“Yep.” I hopped out of my chair. “Uh, sorry, forgot a stir stick, I’ll be right back.”
“I got it.” He picked up a ball point pen and used the non-writing side to stir.
It was a weirdly unrefined thing to watch him do. Jack always seemed so put together, ready for any new challenge. To see him stirring his coffee with a cheap blue pen was incongruent with my idea of him.
Then again, he still had only half of his hair combed. And his laptop screen was dark, as if he’d been staring at it for long enough to go to standby.
“Um. Everything...okay?”
“Not even a little bit. No. But you don’t need to hear about my problems. I hope your appointment today is a positive thing instead of a negative thing.”
“Sure, I mean, more a check-it-off-get-it-done thing. Two of my best friends are getting married, so the rest of us are going to get our suits fitted today.”
“Ah. Marriage.” He nodded, absently running a hand through the side of his hair that had, until then, been neat. “I wish them the best of luck.” He said it so darkly that I wasn’t sure how to respond.
After a too-long pause I went with, “Thank you?”
“Jesus. Sorry.” This time he went at his hair with both hands, took a gulp of coffee, and stood up. “I’ll be right back.” Out he went, down the hall toward the nearest bathroom.
My guess was confirmed when he came back seven minutes later (I wasn’t tracking the time for any reason other than I thought I might have to go make sure he was okay if he...never came back). His hair was damp and roughly styled, his cheeks were fresher like maybe he’d splashed water on them, and he’d unrolled his cuffs to his wrists. All around he looked more awake. And more Jack.
“I apologize for being a basket case,” he said as he snapped his laptop shut and shuffled his papers together. “I have a personal thing, but that’s no excuse.”
“I think it is an excuse, though? I mean, for looking tired.” The thing was, we’d been mostly on-the-chilly-side-of-civil to each other, which made it hard for me to sound sincere in offering sympathy. But I found, somewhat to my surprise, that I was honestly sympathetic. “Sorry you have a personal thing.”
“Thanks. I’ve only got a few more calls to make later today and then I’ll be ready to start assembling the Fling bricks and goody bags. And thanks for the coffee.” He raised the mug, shouldered his gym bag, briefcase, and left.
I sat alone in the fish bowl and stared after him.
* * *
My evil plan (which was to say the one my boss knew about and thus wasn’t evil at all) worked and I got out of there with enough time to get to the fitting before the appointment. I parked and wiped imaginary sweat from my brow.
Mase was already inside waiting on his suit to be brought out. “Hey, Dec.” He kissed my cheek. “Please tell me you stayed after the show and had such amazing sex with Sidney that you completely forgot to tell me about it.”
“Oh my god.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Spill. You owe me all the vicarious details.”
“We did not—” I lowered my voice “—have sex after the show. But when we do, I’m pretty sure it’ll be amazing.”
“Details, cupcake. At least tell me about the making out. I know there was making out.”
I’d always been this guy, the guy who delighted in sharing all the details. Not in a gross way, in a celebratory way. Which made it weird that this thing I felt so celebratory about...also made me kind of want to keep them to myself.
This wasn’t the same as hooking up with a cute guitar player at a party in college and going back to my friends full of stories. This felt...more real. More soft, almost, like I didn’t want to risk leaving indentations from talking about it with other people. “Um. I think... I think it’s private?” I made a face. “That’s bizarre, right? Me feeling private?”
He smiled and brushed his lips over my cheek again. “Aww, baby, I’m super happy for you. That’s so sweet.” He might have said more, but we were interrupted.
“Mason?” A crisp young Latinx man gestured to a fitting room and hung Mase’s suit. “This is you.”
“Thanks.” He straightened his shoulders and headed in.
“And you are?” the guy said to me.
“Declan Swick-Smith.”
“Same party?”
“Yep.”
He nodded and disappeared to the back, leaving me scuffing my sneakers on the floor and wondering if I could find the shoe polish I knew I’d bought at some point. Maybe? I’d kept it on the floor of the closet in my last apartment, and then I’d moved. I didn’t remember packing it or unpacking it. Then again, I didn’t remember throwing it away.
“Declan.”
I followed the guy and thanked him. “Mase?” I called over the half-wall. “How’re you looking?”
“Irresistible. You?”
“Half naked, will update.”
He laughed. “I like you half naked, Dec, but I don’t think Mia’s parents would be thrilled with that as a ceremony look.”
“I’ll have to rethink.” I sighed loudly. “Weddings are so inconvenient.”
“Hopefully Mia and Ronnie go through with theirs. The Motherfuckers are oh-for-one right now.”
Ouch. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but thankfully Oscar’s voice giving his name—presumably to the fitting dude—provided a distraction. “Hey, Oscar!” I called.
“Must you speak to me through a dressing room door?”
“Um, yes?” I pictured the disgruntled expression on his face and grinned, alone, to myself, in my dressing room. “How was your day? How’s work? Anything exciting happen?”
“You’re a terrible person,” he muttered as Fitting Attendant Dude got him settled next to me.
“I know! Too bad you love me in all my terribleness!”
“Y’all,” Mason said from my other side. “Ronnie did right by us. I look fly.”
Fly, omg. “I’m gonna report you to the Department of Outdated Terminology for that. Also, I wanna see!”
“Get your ass out here, then.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I turned sideways and surveyed my appearance. I had to agree. We were in cream colored suits with lush lavender ties to pick up the lavender the brides were wearing. My suit looked damn good on me and the fit was perfect.