I waited.
Sometimes people needed space to talk.
Sometimes they needed a push.
With Skyler, I wasn’t sure which one applied, so Isplit the difference.
“You wanna grab a booth? They’re a lot more comfortable than these stools, and I’m officially on break.”
He hesitated, glancing around the bar like he was checking for paparazzi or teammates or whatever famous people worried about when they were caught looking less than perfect in public.
“It’s also a little more private,” I said, glancing around the same path his gaze had traveled.
“Private, right,” he said. “Yeah, sounds good.”
I led him to a booth in the back corner, the one with the torn vinyl seat that Mark kept meaning to fix. It was tucked away from the main floor, offering a small semblance of privacy that the rest of the bar didn’t have.
Skyler slid in across from me, setting his whiskey on the table between us. In the dim light, he looked tired—not just tired, but the bone-deep kind that sleep couldn’t fix.
“So,” I said. “You want to talk about it, or do you want me to distract you with more Space Duke updates?”
“There are more Space Duke updates?”
“Benji’s been tracking him on social media. Apparently he’s now claiming to have invented a type of sustainable energy that involves glue and batteryacid. I didn’t get the details.”
“Of course he has.”
“Also, he may or may not be a secret member of Mensa.”
“Naturally.”
Skyler’s smile was a little more genuine this time, but it faded quickly. He took a sip of his whiskey and set the glass down with more care than necessary.
“I had a date tonight,” he said.
Something in my chest tightened, but I ignored it.
“Yeah? How’d that go?”
“She broke up with me.”
I blinked. “Oh. Shit. I’m sorry, man.”
“Don’t be. She was right to do it. She said I wasn’t present, that part of me was always somewhere else.” He traced a finger around the rim of his glass. “She was right. I’ve been distracted for weeks, and I couldn’t even tell her why because, fuck, I don’t even know why.”
What was I supposed to say to that?
The tightness in my chest shifted into something else, something I didn’t want to examine too closely.
“For what it’s worth,” I offered, “she sounds like a smart person. Most people wouldn’t be that honest.”
“She is smart. She’s great, actually. Funny, successful, beautiful.” Skyler shook his head. “I should havebeen crazy about her.”
“But?”
“But I didn’t feel a thing. I mean, I liked her. I enjoyed spending time with her, but that thing you’re supposed to feel when you’re with someone you’re dating? That spark, or whatever? It . . . wasn’t there.”
He looked up at me, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. His eyes were searching, confused, like he was hoping I might have answers he couldn’t find himself.
