16. Sixteen
Sixteen
Noah
T he buzzing of the tattoo gun helps empty my mind as I sit in Ryan’s shop with Griffin and the few band members from Elephant University, the indie band he currently works for.
Originally, I’d met Griffin at the college where I work. He worked as the video and audio technician before deciding to go on tour. The guy has tattoos covering his body, and Ryan just so happens to be the artist for most of his ink.
The first time I’d met Ryan, I was drunk off my ass after hanging out with Griffin and a few other staff members. Luckily, I made it out without a permanent mark on my body, but a new friend group instead.
What I told Lennon yesterday wasn’t a lie. Most of my old friends were tied up with Alexis. I’d been busy in my doctorate program, and so her friends became mine by default. I hadn’t had time to put in the effort elsewhere. When we split, most of those people slowly disappeared–fading into the void that is my sad and pathetic past.
“How long are you guys here for?” I ask, tossing a stress ball into the air and catching it.
Ryland looks over at me from the chair as his forearm gets decorated by ink. “We have two shows here, then it’s back on the road for a few weeks. We have a long stretch in December, though.”
I look at Griffin, who sits across the room with his face in his phone next to one of the other band members. There are five total, I think. Ryland’s the lead singer. Then there are others. The only one I remember is the one sitting next to Griffin, and even then, all I know is his name is Nolan, and he plays drums.
“I bet you’re happy to be home for Ellis’s birthday,” I say, and Griffin looks up, one corner of his mouth tugging upwards. “Got any fun plans.”
He pockets his phone, shifting and clearing his throat. “About that,” he starts, and the sound of the tattoo gun changes as Ryan pulls it away, and everyone glances at Griffin.
“Go on,” I encourage, my tone somewhat sarcastic.
“I think I’m going to propose.”
The three other guys erupt with congratulations, and all I can think about is the fact that I slept with his future wife’s best friend–and he doesn’t even know it.
Shit .
I smile because I’m equal parts happy and panicking. Originally, I’d avoided acting on anything with Lennon for fear of complicating things, but it seems that things were destined to be complicated.
Ryan leans back, one gloved hand still holding the tattoo gun, as he runs a brown hand over his face. “You pick a ring yet?” he asks, his grin wide.
“Yeah.”
Something in my gut churns at the thought that he’s already picked a ring, and this is the first time I’m hearing it. Griffin’s been busy, that’s for sure. I don’t blame him, of course. He has been on the road, and I still have Ryan here. Ryan has his partner, though. Griffin has Ellis, and I have–a whole lot of fucking time on my hands.
“Well,” I say, raising my brows. “Let’s see it.”
Griffin reaches in his pocket and flashes an absolute fucking rock. Somehow, I realize I saw this coming. Griffin’s never been the type to date around, and he surely doesn’t hook up casually, but even then, I think I knew it was different. Things are different with Ellis. Once they started hanging out, they just didn’t stop. It’s like he couldn’t get enough of her.
I toss the stress ball in the air, a crease forming between my brows. I am stressed. Aren’t I doing the same thing with Lennon? I’ve spent an unconscionable amount of time with Lennon–fixing the house, watching her look so natural with Ellis’s niece.
In the past month, I’ve spent more time thinking about the future–the things I had wanted with Alexis that I’d failed so miserably to obtain. The worst part happens to be the small kernel of jealousy in my gut. Guilt overpowers it, but the thing is there, festering and forcing me to realize I might still want… something.
And currently, the only something my mind keeps drawing me back to is Lennon. We are all heading to her house tonight for the bonfire. There’s no fucking way I can hide the complications that have come up. I want him to know that it’s different–at least for me. It may have been a one-time thing, but Lennon and I are friends.
Well, considering what happened on the couch and the fact that I made out with her last week, we can say it was one and a half times.
Nolan excuses himself to the restroom as Ryan finishes up the tattoo, both of them leaving to check it out in the mirror across the room.
“So, listen,” I start, deciding I should just confess–get it over with. “I slept with Lennon.”
Griffin blinks, his fingers still curled around the ring box–now frozen. I watch him absorb the information, process, and end on a neutral expression. He nods once.“I figured that would happen after she video-called Ellis from your bathroom.”
I shift forward in my seat, my elbows on my knees.“She did what?” I ask.
Griffin leans back in the chair, running a pale, tattooed hand through his dark hair. “Yeah, she was freaking out about kissing you or some shit. Said it was casual and an accident. I don’t know, man, I wasn’t supposed to talk to you about it, and Lennon is fucking scary.” He shrugs. “Plus, it’s not my business.”
I chuckle, the black chair creaking as I sit back and fold my arms across my chest. “Yeah, okay. She’s not as scary as I originally thought, but I get it.”
“If you slept with her, what does that mean?” he asks.
My stomach twists at his words. Accidental might be true, but why does it have a bite to it? “Not much,” I conceded. “Like she said, it was casual. A one-time thing. We’re friends.” The words taste like a lie.
Griffin’s brow furrows. “Friends?”
“Yeah. I’ve been helping her around the house–fixing shit, I guess. She stayed over that night because there were bats in her chimney. We watched movies.” I shrug. “The sex was a one-time thing. You don’t need to worry about it.”
He doesn’t look convinced as Ryland strolls back over, throwing himself in one of the empty chairs. Griffin glances in his direction before pulling out his phone again and sending what looks to be a text message.
Shit.
“Shop opens in an hour,” Ryan says. “Who’s next?”
Nolan returns just in time to claim the spot, and I pull out my phone–trying to avoid Griffin’s puzzled look.
He may not know about Alexis, but he sure as shit knows how my dates normally go. I don’t linger–and I certainly don’t invite women back to my fucking house. There’s a contemplative expression on his face I don’t want to acknowledge.
Helping around the house, allowing her to stay over, watching movies, having sex–it’s all pretty damning.
Distracting myself by scrolling through my contacts, I land on Lennon’s name–or maybe I sought it out, but I don’t want to admit that.
Me: So, listen.
Her response is almost immediate.
Lennon: Ellis already called. It’s fine. I told her we were just friends, but damn news travels fast with those two.
I chuckle, listening to Ryan explain placement for whatever tattoo he’s doing next. I can still feel Griffin’s gaze, but I choose to ignore it and type out my reply.
Me: It’s like they’ve become a package deal. Does Ellis know he got another tattoo this morning?
Lennon: Awe, look at us. We’re becoming our own little gossip package deal, too.
Lennon: She does, by the way. You need to send me juicer gossip.
My chest feels tight as I stare at the screen. Something about that message sends a thrill through my blood. I like talking to Lennon, and the idea that we’d be some kind of a package deal. I enjoy spending hours with her discussing movies and books. Being around her feels simple–easy.
Me: No real gossip over here.
Lennon: I heard one of Griffin’s friends has a green schlong.
I try and fail to suppress my laugh, thankful the buzz of the tattoo gun drowns the noise out a bit.
Me: I heard the green schlong is massive and tastes great with vegetable dip.
Lennon: Noah, I didn’t know you were into such weird shit.
Me: I’ll try anything once.
I wince, realizing the double meaning. Somehow, the text feels all wrong. It makes it sound like I was just trying her out–seeing what the sex would be like without considering her. It makes me feel like an asshole. I type something out, staring at the message for a full minute before hitting send.
I’d do it again, by the way.
A confession plainly written. A risk, but I think we are beyond those.
My finger hovers over the send button for a moment before I press it.
Three dots flash on the screen. They disappear and reappear again. Finally, Lennon’s text comes through, and I’m not sure how to take it.
Lennon: I’ll see you tonight.
When I look up, I realize Griffin is staring at me from across the room. He tilts his head, raising his brows and clearly wanting an answer for what I’m doing. I shrug and pocket my phone.
And as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve never been more fucking excited about a bonfire in my life.