“Like if I get the urge to tell someone to eat a shriveled up bag of dicks, I can blame it on parasitic Tourettes or something?”
“Something tells me you’d say it even without the excuse.”
“That’s an awfully rude and accurate assumption,” he sniffed delicately and my mouth tugged into a reluctant smile.
“Well, I’m shit with names but if Bash is your boyfriend-tossing jet skier, then that must make you…Micah?” I guessed.
“Ten points to Theodore!” Micah exclaimed, giving me a golf clap.
I fake-gagged and shuddered. “Agh! Nope. I’m not Theodore. Just Theo.”
“Got it,” he snickered. “Are you having fun so far, not-Theodore?”
“Yeah, it’s a blast,” I lied. Micah’s eyes narrowed at my obvious bullshit.
“Hmm. Is that why you raced up here like someone dropped a piranha down your shorts?”
“Oh, uh, I was…feeling a little queasy, that’s all. I came up to get some air.”
“Because the air five feet below us was so contaminated?”
“It was. With people,” I muttered. Micah smirked and grabbed a popsicle out of a cooler nearby.
“It’s cool that you came today.”
“Oh yeah?” My head was beginning to swim slightly from the alcohol and heat, and focusing was becoming a chore.
“Yep. You know, I haven’t known Dawson very long, but I like to think I can read people pretty well. He’s different with you,” he said without looking up at me, opening his treat.
“Different how?” I asked cautiously.
“In the several months that I’ve known him, I’ve only ever seen Dawson sweet, calm and perfectly put together. He’s like the hot lovechild between a Ken doll and Prince Henry fromRed, White and Royal Blue…only less British and plastic-y.”
I snorted at the comparison, imagining how Dawson would react to hearing that. “What are you trying to say?”
He let out a deep sigh as though I was boring him or a moron…or both. “The point is that from the minute Dawson saw you in our apartment building that day, he’s been a lovesick, tortured mess. He tries to hide it, but we all see it. Well…most of us. Nate and Griff are clueless idiots most days.”
My heart gave a hopeless flutter hearing that Dawson was so affected by me before I remembered to squash that idea flat. He’d already erected the Great Wall of boundaries between us to keep us firmly in the friend zone, so there was no use going there.
“Maybe you’re reading him wrong. I mean, you said it yourself, you don’t know him that well.”
“No, I said it hasn’t been long. And I’m not wrong,” Micah said simply. “I also know that you’ve done a bit of damage already since that day too.”
His tone was gentle, but sweat still slithered down my back and my skin grew clammy. This was it. This was where he told me to leave, that I was a screwup, trash, a jackass not worthy of breathing Dawson’s air.
You’re all that and worse. Did you really think they wouldn’t notice?
I stammered, but Micah gave me a patient smile and cut me off.
“Take a breath. I’m not here to judge or bitch at you. I only say that because it’s relevant. Dawson once helped me when I was struggling with being hurt by someone I loved.” Micah’s voice grew soft, and an echo of pain crossed his features.
“How did he help?”
“He helped give me the courage to give Bash a second chance. He said that even though Bash hurt me deeply, he was the only one who could fix it. And that as long as I was missing a piece of myself, missing Bash, I’d never really heal. That we made each other whole. Knowing what I know now, I’m pretty sure he was talking from personal experience…and that you might behismissing piece.”
Air burned in my lungs as the guilt stifled me. Had Dawson been thinking of me and what I’d done to him when he’d talked to Micah? Has he been as broken as I have been without him?
“Why tell me all this?” I croaked.
