Ciarán leans over and brushes my knuckles with his finger lightly. “That’s all I wanted. I just worry about you. I can give you a name if you decide you want to go. She’s nice, doesn’t push.”
My brows furrow. Is he friends with this person, or does he see a therapist? I should know that. And he shouldn’t have to worry about me, neither of them should. I should be able to take care of myself. I want to be able to take care of myself. I close my eyes and take several deep breaths to settle my racing heart, the darkness and quiet blanketing me. When I open my eyes, I say, “Change of topic? Something light.” My tone is pleading. I need a distraction. “Please.”
Ciarán nods, jumps up, and grabs the food, bringing it to the coffee table with cutlery. He hands me a bowl and fork. I take them and try to smile, but it’s strained.
In true teacher fashion, Abbie claps her hands and shifts gears. She winks at me before proceeding. “Okay, this conversation isn’t over, but my boy needs to feel better. So let’s talk tragic comedy. My dating life. Or, more accurately, the barren wasteland where my dating life used to be.”
Gratitude and relief pour over me instantly. I already feel the tension in my shoulders loosening.
“Caused by actually having standards,” Ciarán says, stealing a piece of bread.
My grip on the fork eases. This is what I need right now, to just forget.
Abbie sighs dramatically. “I am this close to letting my sister set me up.” She holds her thumb and finger barely apart.
“I feel like this is how a horror movie starts,” I mutter, which earns me a grin from Abbie.
“No,” Ciarán says immediately, pointing his bread at her. “Absolutely not. She will choose someone who tucks his T-shirts into his jeans and calls you ‘babe’ unironically. Babe, no. Baby, yes. I don’t make the rules.”
My cheeks flame at that, remembering how Noah called me baby. I liked it far too much.
Abbie looks affronted. “She might pick an artist! Some hot, trendy nerd with all the sexy muscles.”
“She will pick a man named Greg, who cannot find the clit.” His eyes cut to me. “I’m gay as fuck, and even I could find it.”
I snort a laugh as Abbie chokes on her food. “Fine. I’ll let fate handle it. Meaning I’ll be single forever.”
"You're not a bit dramatic," I deadpan, causing her to scrunch her nose at me.
“The apps are worse,” Ciarán says, leaning back as he gestures with his hands. “Last month, I matched with a man whose name was literally ‘Mask4Mask.’ When I said hello, he asked if I had, and I quote,girl parts or boy parts.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“Thank you. That was my reaction exactly. I said, ‘I havemanparts, as indicated by the word man at the top of my profile. Also, good-fucking-bye.’“ He grins, clearly proud of himself. “...but not before I told him they rotate with the phases of the moon.”
“You did not,” I say, shaking my head, smiling.
“I absolutely did. New moon: detachable. Full moon: add-ons.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, louder than expected, but neither of them looks startled, just pleased. I relax a little more into the sofa, grateful they're here with me.
“And since we’re on the subject of romantic prospects,” Ciarán says, eyes going sly, “let’s go to the topic of Noah.”
“No,” I say instantly, heat climbing my neck.
“Just a progress report,” Abbie teases. “Light details. Feed us, Gabe. We are so very hungry.”
The puppy eyes are next level.
“There’s nothing to report.”
There’s no way I’m giving them details, no way I’m telling them about Noah’s dirty talk. How hot it was… how much it turned me on. It takes effort not to squirm on the spot.
“Which,” Ciarán says while tapping his chin, “is exactly what a man with something to report would say…”
“I’m not talking about my… about anything.” I wave a hand vaguely, which only encourages them.
“About your…” Abbie drawls, her eyebrows creeping up her face. “Boyfriend?”
