With a click of her tongue, she downs the half-full cocktail sitting on the table.
My eyes widen. “Whoa.”
A quick swipe of her mouth, and she shrugs. “I just went on a date with a man who’s pining after another woman. Give me a break.”
I’m not pining. Much.
No, the pining comes much later, when I’m in my cold bed alone, dithering over a text I’m not sure I should answer.
I had a date.
There. Now she knows. I’m not hiding.
Oh.
Did you have fun?
I mean... you’re already home texting me
So maybe not?
Heat floods my face, my hands.
What the hell? That’s what she leads with?
The impulsive, reckless answer that would hum like magic in the moment but burn with self-loathing for the rest of time jolts to my fingertips.
Not all of us fuck on the first date.
I suppress that urge, but it takes a minute. In the interim, she continues...
That was a joke
Asher it was a joke.
You could be with her right now. What do I know?
I shouldn’t have said that
Her clear panic softens me. Jocelyn has some sorcery in her blood. It weakens even the firmest resolve.
It’s fine.
I’m tired though. Going to sleep.
Asher.
I anticipate another text, but nothing comes, so I prod her.
What?
Pre-sleep wonderland steals my awareness for several minutes while waiting for her to answer. The light from my phone jolts me awake.
Are we going to be okay?
Her text holds me enthralled. Can’t pinpoint why exactly. Perhaps it’s thewe. That word is a tether. Verification thatI’m not in this alone. That I’m not the only one experiencing pain. Jocelyn cares about me, too, even if it’s not the way I want. It’s a balm, but it’s also a dreary reminder of the truth. We might not be okay.
I don’t know.
