Screw it.
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t know much about what those three have going on that they’re not telling us, but as far as Blaine is concerned? He isn’t willing to give up whatever bounty they’ve got on the table, so it must be good.”
My stomach drops at the same time my heart sinks.
Bambi takes another bite of her rice cake, waving it around in the air as she thinks out loud. “I mean, think about it. You’re incredible—smart, beautiful, rich. Any guy would be a fool not to want to date you. So what is it that’s holding him back?” She squints, looking out the window for answers. “What the heck do those guys have going on?”
Wait.
Bambi thinks I’m incredible and smart?
My mind reels from this information, forgetting the fact that we’re theorizing about our man troubles and focusing on Bambi’s compliments.
I open my mouth to tell her they have a club and the club has rules, but then I close it.
Brooks didn’t tell me that little tidbit so I could share it with anyone who will listen—he told me by accident, and it’s not my secret to tell, even if Bambi does have a vested interest in knowing it.
25
Brooks
“I forfeit.” I remove my beloved smoking jacket, fold it in half, and gently lay it in the center of the table. “Here.”
Both guys are looking at me like I’m a stranger who just sat down and began eating their food at the dinner table.
Like I’m nuts.
“Forfeit what?” This from Blaine. “What are you giving us your jacket for?”
“The bet.”
“Hold on—back up. What do you mean, you forfeit?”
“I’m out. You guys win, I lose.”
“I don’t get it. How could you lose when you’re not seeing anyone?”
“I’m not seeing anyone and I’m not dating anyone. Not technically.” But I was, sort of, in a roundabout way; I just failed to mention it to my best friends, and now she fucking hates my guts, so it hardly matters.
“Then why are you telling us this?”
“Because I want her back.” Even though I didn’t actually have her, I’m not willing to let Abbott out of my life. Running into her in the lobby of our building won’t be enough. Bumping into her in the hallway in front of our apartments won’t be enough.
“I love her.” The confession is strangled, the words the truest I’ve said in weeks.
“Who?” Phillip asks as Blaine says, “I’m confused,” at the same time.
“Abbott.”
Blank stares all around.
“My neighbor?”
More blank stares.
Then, “Phew. I thought you were going to tell me you were in love with my sister.” Phillip laughs.
Blaine hits him. “Don’t be an idiot—your sister is horrible. No one is in love with her.”
“Shut up, asshole. My sister is awesome. She did a favor for your sorry ass—show some respect.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Looks like everyone in the Bastard Bachelor Society is a wee bit testy tonight, not just me. I put my hands in the air so Blaine and Phillip will calm the fuck down, waiting while they simmer.
It’s Phillip who finally calms us down, circling back around to the topic at hand: Abbott.
“You met your neighbor and his name is Abbott?”
“Her. She. Abbott is a female—I said I love her, not him.”
Blaine winks. “No judgments.”
Why does everything with my friends have to be so damn complicated? If they would just listen and focus, we wouldn’t have to go round and round with the same shit over and over. Jesus Christ, it’s exhausting.
I sit silently, waiting for them both to zip their lips so I can get a word in edgewise. Wait several minutes longer while they derail, wanting to know why I never invite them over when my apartment building is totally sweet. Why I never have them over when I have an awesome television and a liquor store nearby so we’d never run out of beer during a football game.
I wait. And wait. And wait.
Finally, “So you’re in love? When the hell did this happen?”
“More importantly, why are we just hearing about it?”
“I didn’t think it would matter. We were just supposed to be friends.”
Phillip wrinkles up his nose. “Since when have you ever had friends who are girls?”
Since never.
“So you’re in love with your neighbor? That’s…different.”
I sigh, already exhausted from having to explain. “She lives in my building and one day we met in front of the elevators.” I have a moment of déjà vu, the memory of Abbott racing to the elevator car and pounding on the close button so she wouldn’t have to ride up with me. “She didn’t want me to ride up with her, which I thought was weird.”
I never did ask her about that day and what her problem with me was.
I hope I get the chance to find out.
“Then,” I go on, “one morning I was jogging and took the stairs up to my apartment, and when I blew through the door from the stairwell, she was standing in the hallway in front of her door, holding a steaming hot bag of takeout.”
“At least it wasn’t a steaming hot bag of shit,” Phillip jokes.
Blaine smacks his arm. “Would you shut the fuck up and listen?”
I wait for them to stop bickering before continuing. “Anyway, she had this food and wound up inviting me in for breakfast—”
“Is breakfast the new word for sex?” Phillip interrupts, clearly a few drinks in.
“No.” I can’t not roll my eyes. “Breakfast is the word for breakfast. Would you be quiet?” He closes his mouth. “After that, she and I just…started hanging out a lot. Almost every day.”
“She must be hot, eh?”
It comes as no surprise that they’d want to know, but it does come as a surprise that Abbott is not, in fact, hot. She’s better than that.
“I wouldn’t call her hot. I would say she’s more…” How do I describe her without sounding like a lovesick chump? “Pretty. She’s really girly and not at all fussy, except maybe for work. Abbott loves to eat and chill and she’s funny in a cute kind of way. Like, not so much ha ha funny as adorable funny.”
“Say funny one more time,” Blaine deadpans.
“She’s fucking funny, okay? Quit riding my nuts.”
Phillip is quick to stick up for me. “Yeah bro, you’re taking the wind out of his sails.”
“I should be riding his nuts,” Blaine argues. “Our boy here didn’t even try to win this bet, and he’s the one who came up with the idea in the first place. What kind of bullshit is that?”
Of course—he’s right. I gave it a good effort for a solid week, tops, then warred with myself through most of the rest, putting in a half-assed attempt to keep my distance from Abbott once we got to know each other better.
Then, once we became friends…forget about it.
“Have you slept with her?” This from Blaine, who leans forward in his chair, insatiably interested in my answer.