Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Wait. What? Where did that come from? Did you hook up with Anthony or something last night?”
I blanch. “No. We’re just friends. You know random hookups aren’t my thing. It’s just…I want to again make sure you know I don’t care if you have sex or if you have sex in this house. You could have a gangbang in your room for all I care.”
“I don’t want to have a gangbang in my room.”
“That’s fine too…or if you change your mind about Ana. Anything, really. You’re totally free to do what you want.” Translation: I don’t have feelings for you. I don’t think the other night means more than it did. Nothing has changed.
“Fine. Maybe I’ll call her. Or maybe I’ll go have that gangbang you’re talking about.”
“Okay…why do you sound mad?” Eric doesn’t get mad at me, and I don’t get mad at him.
He sighs. “I’m not mad, D. I just…”
He just what? Nothing else comes out, and I hold my breath, waiting for more. He just hates me? He just regrets marrying me? What does he just?
My cell rings, startling us. I take it out of my pocket to see Dad on the screen.
“You should answer that,” Eric tells me.
“I can call him back.”
“You love talking to your dad. Answer it, D. I’m gonna get dressed and call Ana to see if she wants to hang out.”
My gut twists uncomfortably, and I suddenly wish I hadn’t suggested he call Ana. “Oh…okay. I hope you guys have fun!” I say, too enthusiastically. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m being such a weirdo right now.
“I’m sure we will.” He turns around and disappears down the hallway.
For a moment I consider going after him, but he literally just said he’s going to call Ana. Am I supposed to then be like, Nope, you can’t go out with her? And even if it’s a friend thing like he said, I was with Hayes and Anthony last night. Eric deserves time with his friends too.
I answer the call, though what I really want is to ask Eric to curl up on the couch with me and watch stupid shows on TV all day.
“Hey, Pops. How’s it going?” I ask, then go into the backyard.
“Not bad. We haven’t heard from you in a while, so I wanted to check in.”
He’s right. I usually talk to him or Mom every couple of days. They don’t even know Eric moved in with me.
And they definitely don’t know I’m married.
“Sorry. Things have been busy. Eric moved back in with me.”
“Oh, wow. Mom saw Sylvia yesterday, and she didn’t mention it.”
Shit. Eric hasn’t told his mom either. Guilt weighs me down. I didn’t mean to share something Eric hasn’t talked to his mom about yet. “Maybe don’t mention it? I’m sure he wants to tell her himself.”
“Sure, kid. No problem,” Dad says, and I smile at him calling me kid. He always has. “Honestly, I’m surprised you boys ever stopped living together.”
His answer is absolutely not surprising to me. My parents and Eric’s mom are always talking about how close we are and how special our relationship is. I know my parents wish Eric was queer and we’d settle down together. They’ve said it more than once. “We’re not that bad,” I tell Dad.
“Who said anything about it being bad? You know how much we love Eric. The two of you are practically married.”
I suck in a deep breath and then proceed to choke on it, coughing and spurting.
Dad laughs, not realizing why I’m dying. “I know he’s straight and the two of you are just friends. You don’t have to tell me again. We’d love it if the two of you were together, but we have accepted it won’t happen. We just…we just hope you don’t let your friendship hold you back from finding someone for yourself.”
“Eric would never do that,” I defend.
“I’m saying this all wrong. I’m not good at this kind of thing. We just love Eric, and we want you to be happy, is all.”
I nod, knowing what my dad means. “Yeah, well, I tried that with Malcolm, and look how that turned out.”
“He wasn’t good for you. Even before we knew how much of an asshole he is, I knew he wasn’t right for you.”
“You never even met him!”
“Exactly,” Dad says. “One of many reasons, but…I don’t know. I could hear it in the way you talked about him. That spark wasn’t there.”
What he doesn’t say is that he thinks I talk about Eric that way. I’ve tried to explain a million times that it’s just because he’s my best friend.
“How’s work going?” I ask.
It’s the change of subject I need. Dad talks about his job, then asks about work and the hospital. We chat for a while, and when we end the call, my pops gives me an, “Okay, be cool,” the way he always does when we get off the phone.