I made myself very still and silent. I hated my own cowardice. I’d done the same thing with Roger, thinking that if I could make myself invisible, he might leave me alone. But this time I wasn’t the victim, I was the aggressor. A predator. I’d preyed on Bobby.
“It was wrong of me to do it,” I said at last. “I’m very sorry. It willneverhappen again.”
Bobby leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table. His hulking shoulders crowded me out, but I didn’t get the sense he was trying to intimidate me. Still, I shrunk away from him.
“Did we…” He glanced up at me, a tight expression on his face.
“We kissed,” I admitted, burning in shame. “And cuddled, somewhat aggressively.”
“And that?” he motioned to my split lip.
“I did it to myself.” I bit down on the puncture and tasted blood. I deserved the pain.
He breathed out a long sigh. “I don’t know how the fuck you did it, and honestly, I’m not sure I want to.” He shook his head and gestured at me. “I mean, why would you think you’d need to force someone to be with you? There are a ton of guys here who’d be interested in you without the bullshit.” I was about to respond when he continued. “But what you did was fucked up. Like, seriously.” He banged his fist against the table. The coffee cup jumped but didn’t spill.
“I know it was. So fucked up.” Words couldn’t describe it. We should both be in jail.
“Look, I don’t know what to tell you,” he continued. “This shit is just too fucking out there for me.”
I nodded vigorously, gulping down my relief. “I swear to you, Bobby. It will never happen again. I’m so, so sorry.”
He glanced up at me, supremely disappointed. “Such a shame.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. I was no better than Roger. I’d manipulated Bobby to get what I wanted without thinking about his wishes at all. And I didn’t even have the guts to be honest about it.
“Listen, don’t cry.” Bobby went to grab my hand but then thought better of it. I didn’t deserve his kindness. “Don’t do that again, though. To me or anyone else.”
I shook my head. “I won’t.”
“And next time you like a guy, just grow a pair and ask him out, okay? None of this voodoo shit.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and tried to suck back the tears. A few escaped anyway. “Okay.”
He glanced behind him at the kiosk before saying his final words, “Listen, I got to get back to work. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s better if we keep this between us.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” I promised and used the heels of my hands to dry my eyes.
Bobby gave me one last wary look before returning to work. I escaped to the bathroom where I poured his latte down the toilet, then vomited up my breakfast in fits and gags.
I was fucking disgusting.
15
Henri
The dying kept me busy over the next few days. A car flipped on the highway, which resulted in a pileup on I-95. Two people died on impact and three more were rushed to the hospital in emergency vehicles. I had just finished at the scene of the accident when I was summoned to the intensive care unit at Mercy Hospital. One perished during surgery and another just a couple of hours later from a cerebral edema. The third was clinging to life, so I waited until it seemed their condition had stabilized. One of the victims was quite young—around your age—and I couldn’t help but worry over you.
I was constantly reminded of the fragility of the human body.
When I was finally able to visit you again, you looked unwell. Your cheeks were gaunt, and you appeared thinner than usual. My other clue was that you were at home in bed during the time when you were usually at the studio.The Nutcracker’sopening night was only a week away. I’d seen you dance through injury and illness, so naturally I assumed you’d contracted some life-threatening disease.
“Orlando, what’s wrong?”
You were lying in your narrow bed with only your sweatpants on. Your skin looked sallow and your eyes sunken. Upon hearing my voice, tears seeped out of the corners of your eyes and left tracks on your temples.
“Orlando,” I said a little more severely in an attempt to shock you out of your stupor.
“What we did was wrong,” you rasped. Your voice was hardly more than a whisper. Your throat was in bad shape as well.
