Page 20 of Blueline Baby

“You have to stop,” I say. “The pens, the light, all of it. Stop. I don’t want anything from you.”

“I know you don’t.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. He looks terrible, honestly. Not hungover terrible, just exhausted. Like he hasn’t been sleeping. I absolutely refuse to feel even slightly sorry for him. “That’s kind of the point. I’m not trying to buy you. I know I can’t buy you. I tried to think of all the ways I could apologize, and every version was shit. So I figured I’d just try to make your life easier and not say anything and hope you noticed.”

“I noticed. Everyone in a fifty-foot radius noticed. Stop.”

And then he does a thing I never once imagined he’d do, which is completely run out of confidence.

“Chloe, please.” His voice drops. “I don’t do this. I’ve never done this. I’ve never had to ask twice for anything in my life, and I’m standing here begging you, so you can see how bad it is. I’ve never felt like this about anybody. And I threw it away in the first ten minutes, drunk, doing the exact stupid thing you already knew I’d do. I don’t want that to be our whole story. Give me one chance. One. I’ll do anything.”

It’s a pretty good speech. I can literally feel my resolve cracking, which means I absolutely can’t trust it.

“You’ll do anything,” I say. “For how long? Until I’m boring? Until somebody easier comes along?”

“That’s not what’s going to happen.”

“That’s exactly what’s going to happen with a guy like you.”

“Britt told me to quit.”

That stops me short. “What?”

“Britt. She’s been telling me to give up on you for two weeks.” It comes out fast now, like it’s been building in his mind and he finally has to let it out. “She’s at Smitty’s every night, and every night she tells me the same thing. That I’m wasting my time and should go find someone who’ll actually put out—I mean,” he catches himself, but I’ve already got the gist. “She said you were a lost cause. Like she was doing me a favor.”

And the thing I didn’t expect is that I’m not upset about Jack. I’m upset about Britt.

Because my roommate, my supposed best friend, the one who’s always said to loosen up and live a little, has been telling a guy I’m a lost cause. Deciding my answer for me. Handing out my no like it was hers to give.

I’ve spent three weeks being smart and completely in control of this situation. Suddenly, the anger entirely overrides everything, and I am blindingly done being careful.

“Fuck this,” I say.

Jack blinks. “What?”

“Fuck this. Fuck Britt, and fuck being careful. And fuck you a little bit too.” I zip my jacket up to my chin. "You get one date. One. Not because of the pens, and not because of the speech. Because I’m choosing it, and nobody else gets a vote. Including you. Do you understand the difference?”

“…I think so.”

“Say you understand the difference.”

“I understand the difference.”

“Good.” My heart’s pounding like I ran here. “Then pick me up on Friday and take me somewhere quiet. And if you so much as look at a shot glass, I’m gone, and I will never speak to you again.”

He’s grinning now with his whole face, and I point a finger at him before whatever he wants to say can come out.

“Not a word. You used up all your words. Go home.”

He goes, walking backward so he can keep looking at me, nearly taking out a bike rack on his way. I realize that my impulsive decision to go out with him actually started the night I opened my apartment door.

11

JACK

CAN I GET A REDO?

“Dude, are you okay?” Jude yells through my bathroom door.

My only answer is the sound of me flushing the toilet, because even if I didn’t actually puke, the gagging was loud enough to sound like I did. Sweat’s dripping off my forehead like I just came off a double shift, and I’m dizzy in a way that beats any hangover I’ve ever had. All because she said yes to a date, and the date is tonight. Right now.