“Yeah, I suppose,” I mumble, ironically chewing on candy for dinner.
“So, what makes you think I want you as a fanboy? And I’m still trying to figure out who these so-called groupies-slash-minions-slash-fanboys are that you keep mentioning.”
“You’re not fooling me—you know exactly who I mean. It’s none of my business, but I won’t be joining the team.” Lies, all lies.
“Now they’re a team? Hmm, guess I should contact them and let them know they can disassemble, as they’re no longer needed or wanted.”
I aim for indifference as I shove more candy in my mouth to resist the urge to flirt back. “Whatever floats your boat.”
His deep huff is the only acknowledgment he gives me, followed by more noise in his kitchen.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?”
I hesitate. “No, not yet.”
“Would you like to join me?” I can tell he’s treading lightly, pausing slightly between words.
I consider the gesture for half a second before blurting out, “I’m staying in tonight, but thanks for the invite. I’m actually going to make myself some food now.” My brain tells me to shut up at the same time as my mouth extinguishes any chance of this night ending well. “Enjoy your dinner, though.”
“Umm, okay then. You, too.”
He barely gets a goodbye out before I end the call.
Candy spills across the floor as I let myself fall face-first into the couch, the throw pillow muffling my frustrated growl. My mind churns over and over, trying to answer the question that plagues me day in and day out.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’m woken by an incessant vibrating against my stomach.
Huh? When did I fall asleep?
I’m still trying to work that out as I squint at my phone screen. I’ve got three missed calls—one from Gabe and two from Kaden—and several text messages.
Did I say something to offend you earlier?
I’m not sure what it could’ve been, but it wasn’t intentional, I can assure you.
Why is he so concerned about me? He doesn’t even know me.
For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk, I understand. I’ll leave you alone.
I can’t help but trade my phone for the candy on the floor, throwing it across the room before gathering up the mess I made earlier and putting the last of my stash back in the bag. This was my last bag, so I’ll have to go out and get more now. I ignore the missed calls and messages, focusing on that task instead. Driving and music is like therapy to me, and exactly what I need right now.
After picking up more candy and a drink, I drive aimlessly as I listen to my music, knowing it’s the only thing that will clear my head right now. I don’t understand why I’m sabotaging aconnection that could’ve had potential, with the first person who actually reciprocated my interest in years.
It’s after 11 p.m. when I start heading back home. At a red light, I decide to take the opportunity to respond to Gabe.
You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who owes you an apology. You were the one being nice and offering me dinner. I’m the one who doesn’t know how to act right. So, I’m sorry.
I finish texting and throw my phone into the passenger seat to avoid staring at it for a response. It’s late, and he’s probably sleeping already, which is for the best because I have no idea what else I’d say to him.
I don’t get more than a mile up the road before a call rings through on my car’s connection, and Gabe’s name pops up on my display.
Two deep breaths later, I hit the answer button.
“Hey, Gabe. Sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn’t, but I wouldn’t have minded if you did.”
