Chapter Nine
Abby
Acouple of days later, I’m knee-deep in work when a loud banging on my door scares the shit out of me. I figure it can’t be Don because he should be at work right now.
And his knock isn’t nearly so aggressive.
After hitting the SAVE button, I get up to see who it is. Staring through the peephole, I see that no one is there, but there’s a giant bouquet of flowers on the doormat.
I slowly swing the door open and bend down to grab the flowers. When I bring them in and set them on my counter, it takes me a minute to search through all the stems to locate the card.
When I finally find it, I read it out loud.
“Abby, please don’t kill me. I’m so sorry the date was a bust. Call me when you get these so I can apologize some more. -Jenson.”
Leave it to Jenson to do something extravagant instead of just answering my calls or texts. It still baffles me how he and I have stayed friends all these years. We met back in college—back when Jenson had just come out of the closet and was struggling with his identity.
And I was just struggling in general.
We helped each other get back on stable footing. Eventually, Jenson carved out a whole new life for himself. He fell in love with the New York nightlife and everything that went along with it.
Meanwhile, I have always avoided that scene like the plague. He convinced me to go dancing one time. Ten minutes in, I tripped over someone and fell, breaking my ankle and having to wear a cast for over a month. It still aches when it rains.
That was all the nightlife I needed. I wouldn’t mind going to a Broadway show, but that’s not Jenson’s cup of tea. And since I don’t want him to bug me about clubbing, I don’t bug him about a show.
Pulling out my phone, I scroll through and find his number before starting a video call.
When he answers, though, all I see is darkness.
“Hey, beautiful,” he answers.
“Hey, you. Why is it all dark? I can’t see you.”
“Sorry. You’re in my pocket. Give me a second.”
Moments later, I see the screen brighten and Jenson’s face looking back at me.
“Are you mad?” He asks.
“If you would have answered before now, you’d know I have calmed down some.”
“Good because I have another surprise.”
Finally paying attention to where he is, I ask, “Are you in my hallway?”
“Maybe.” He grins. “Come open up the door and find out.”
When I do, he’s standing there with a box of chocolate truffles and two iced coffees.
The second he sees me, he says, “I am so sorry.”
I get out of the way so that he can come inside. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” I ask.
“I sort of got suspended.”
“What?”
He sets everything on the counter. “Oh, it’s dumb. Don’t worry about it. I came here to focus all my attention on you.”
“Well, don’t I feel special?”
“You should.” He hands me one of the coffees. “Iced caramel latte with almond milk.”
“Thank you. Now, why don’t you tell me exactly what you were thinking when you set me up with that jerk?”
He wiggles his mouth back and forth trying to get past his nerves. “Hooking you up with Justin wasn’t exactly the plan.”
“I’m going to need more information.”
“Originally, I wanted to set you up with Grant, a guy I work with at the gym. I think you two would have really hit it off. The trouble was that Grant had an emergency with his grandma. She fell or something. I don’t know; it doesn’t matter. Anyway, Grant said that he had a buddy that had been staying with him and could go instead. I never figured that he would be such an ass. I didn’t think he’d say all those terrible things about you.”
“Yeah, he was really a piece of wo—” I stop. “Wait a minute. How do you know what he said about me? I didn’t give you any details in my messages.”
He taps a finger on the side of his plastic cup. “Well,” he draws out the word. “He came into work to give Grant some hell for setting him up with you. I heard him talking shit, so I punched him in the face—which is why I got suspended.”
“Aw, you punched somebody for me? That’s so sweet of you. Look at you, being all masculine and shit.” I hold my hand over my heart.
“Someone had to teach that prick a lesson. And I wasn’t going to continue to listen to him say awful things about my best friend.”
“Why didn’t you answer the phone and tell me all this when I called?”
“Because you’re scary when you’re mad. Look, Abby, I should’ve vetted this guy better. That’s a hundred percent on me, but I just wanted you to get out and have a good time.”
“I know you worry about me, but I need you to just chill out a little.”
“It’s just hard.”
“I think you owe it to me after this shit show. Just because you like going out and partying doesn’t mean that’s how I want to spend my time. I like hanging out at home. If I am going to eventually be with someone, he’ll like that too.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
“Then, he’s not the right guy for me.” I take a swig of the coffee. “You know probably better than anyone that I have my routines and my habits. If I stray from those, my anxiety shoots through the roof. Then, no one’s having a good time.”
He laughs. “I do know that.”
“Once upon a time, you liked hanging out at home with me.”
“I still do.” He shoots me a wink. “But I also like getting laid. And usually, to do that, I have to venture outside of the house.”
With my best shocked face, I say, “So, you mean to tell me Prince Charming isn’t going to just show up at my door?”
“Oh, if only it were that easy. But how about you and I hang out tonight? We can lay on the couch and watch trashy reality TV, and eat junk food.”
Jenson and I haven’t done that in forever, and it sounds great. But I already have plans with Don. Sure, we’re just doing the same thing we’ve done the past few evenings, but I’ve grown to look forward to it. I find myself excited at the idea of him coming over—which is completely insane.
Because it sounds so absurd, I choose not to say it out loud to Jenson. I don’t feel like answering a million questions at the moment.
“As much fun as that sounds, I actually have to work tonight,” I lie.
“What? Why do you have to work? Don’t you technically make your own hours?”
“Yes, but I have a huge project I need to finish, and I’m already wasting time sitting here with you,” I tease.
“Okay, okay. But you have to put up with me a little while longer.”
“Deal.”
“Do you have any water?” He asks, standing up.
“There should be some in the fridge.”
I pull a blanket off the back of the couch and get a little cozier when I hear, “Uhm, Abby?”
“Yeah?”
“Why is there beer in your fridge? You never drink beer. And there’s pizza! With real cheese? What in God’s name is going on here?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say, trying to buy myself some time to think of another excuse.
Any other excuse.
“Abigal Jones, I know you would never go out of your way to buy beer. I also know that your stomach has an extreme prejudice towards dairy. Your pizza always has to have special cheese.”
“Maybe I changed? Maybe I’m trying new things? Maybe I’m a masochist who likes having an upset stomach?”
“Maybe you’re full of shit, buttercup. Spill it. Who’s the guy?”
“Guy?
“What are you? A fucking parrot?”
I hold my hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright. I’ve been hanging out with my neighbor.”
He looks extremely confused. “The old guy who walks down to get his mail in his bathrobe? Are you that lonely, Abby?”
“Ew! Not him! The neighbor on the other side. Don.”
I can practically see his wheels turning until it finally dawns on him.
“The hottie? You’ve been hanging out with that stud?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer before going on. “Oh my gosh! Tell me everything! How is he in the sack? Is he hung like a horse?”
“Slow down, Tanto. Nothing has happened. It’s not like that.”
“I’m confused.”
“We are just friends. He saw me crying after the terrible date and came to check on me. We had a good time and decided to just hang out more often. We get takeout and talk and watch Gilmore Girls.”
“Hold up,” he interrupts. “This man came to check on you? And now, he comes over to watch Gilmore Girls? And he’s not trying to sleep with you?”
“Is that weird?” I ask although I already know the answer.
“Honey, we are so far past weird that we can’t even see it in the rearview mirror. The oddest part of all is why you aren’t trying to sleep with him.”
“Are you kidding?” I ask. “Have you seen that man? He’s way out of my league. We are having fun just as friends.”
“Do you think maybe he wants it to be more?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Picking at the lid of my cup, I reply, “Because I’m not that girl. This isn’t a romance book. We’re friends. Nothing more. Eventually, he’ll find some leggy model to settle down with, and I’ll find my own weirdo.”
“Have you considered friends with benefits?”
“No,” I lie once again.
I know nothing sexual will happen with Don. I’m not dumb. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t wonder what he’d be like—especially when I’ve heard the noises the women he fucks make. He makes a gal curious.
Once again, I’m not going to say any of this to Jenson.
“Man, I would climb that man and show him a good time,” he says as though getting lost in the fantasy playing out his head.
When he snaps out of it, a sudden realization hits him. “You’re hanging out with him tonight, aren’t you? That’s why you can’t hang out with me!”
My silence gives him the only response he needs.
“You little dawg, you!” He exclaims.
“Are you mad?” I ask.
Pulling me in for a hug, he replies, “On the contrary. I’ve never been more proud.”