Chapter 11
OLIVER
Two more minutes. Then I’m leaving.
It’s already twenty minutes past when my date was supposed to start, and I’m still sitting alone at the bar. Considering I’m one of two people sitting here—and the only man—I’m not hard to find. If Paul was to walk in, he’d be able to spot me instantly.
Which means he’s not here.
I check the message feature on the dating app again. Nothing. The message I sent asking if he was still coming is marked as unread.
Great. Another wasted evening. So far this year, my date with Colt was the most successful night I’ve had.
Mostly thanks to Aaron. It’s pathetic that he’s the best date I’ve had, even if I can’t call it a date, which is why I went back on the app in the first place.
It’s part of my multi-step plan to get Aaron off my mind.
If I can find someone else to focus my romantic attention on, then it’ll be easier to see him as a friend.
That’s the ideal situation. I’d take getting laid as a close second.
At least then, Aaron won’t be the last guy I took to bed.
Maybe then I won’t think about him every time I jerk off.
It’s getting to be a real problem. He’s always there.
Doesn’t matter if I’m in the shower or in bed.
He comes to mind so easily, with a long list of all the things I didn’t get to do with his incredible body.
The one that’s on display for me weekly during our runs.
No matter what the weather, he’s always in the skimpy little shorts.
On warm days, he strips his top off entirely.
It’s not funny. I almost ran into a mailbox because I couldn’t take my eyes off his abs.
I’m about to call it, downing the last of my beer and motioning for the bartender to get me the bill. I’d rather wallow in my own home. At least I can put on sweatpants instead of wearing these uncomfortable jeans. They look amazing on my ass, which is why I wore them, but they’re hell to sit in.
“Hey,” a familiar voice says.
This has to be some sick joke from the universe. Is Aaron going to appear every time I’m having a shitty date? I can’t possibly deserve that.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I say, swiveling to face him. He’s dressed in black slacks and a salmon polo shirt.
“A few of the guys from work wanted to go out tonight.” He nods toward a group of people at a table in the corner. They’re laughing and nudging each other. “I spotted you and wanted to come say hi. You here on your own?”
“I guess so.” The two minutes I gave myself to wait this out have passed, and I’m still sitting here alone.
“Bad date?” He grimaces, as though he knows what’s coming next. He probably does, considering we bonded over our bad luck.
I’m not sure I’m pleased that he can read me so well. Or maybe my life is so pathetic that it’s easy to figure out without even asking. “I think the other person has to show up to call it a date.”
“Ouch. Do you want to join us?”
Do I want to spend the evening hanging out with a group of people I don’t know, while they pity me for my shitty date? “Sure,” I hear myself say. Apparently, the chance to be near Aaron, even in a group setting, is too much for me to resist.
“Come on over when you’re ready. We’ve got a couple pitchers of beer and some shared food coming.”
“Thanks.”
He walks back toward his coworkers. He motions toward me, a few of them looking up at me as he speaks. I can’t help but wonder what he’s saying about me; if he’s telling them how sorry he feels for me and my inability to get a guy to even show up for a date.
After I’ve gotten another beer and officially closed out my tab, I head over. This way, I’m not mooching off the group.
“You made it,” Aaron says as he pulls out a chair. “Oliver, this is Barrett, Roger, and Casey.” They all mumble variations of a greeting, putting on big smiles.
“We were just trying to solve a debate,” the guy directly across from me says. I’m pretty sure he’s the one that Aaron called Casey.
“No, do not drag him into this ridiculousness.” Aaron holds up a finger, as though he might scold his friend. Hell, I’d be terrified if Aaron did that to me.
It doesn’t faze Casey. “It’s not ridiculous, and if he’s going to sit here, then he should get to provide an opinion.”
“I’m so sorry.” Aaron shakes his head and reaches for his beer. “Please still talk to me after this.”
Honestly, this guy could ask me to help him rob a bank, and I’m confident I’d say yes right now. It’s the first time Aaron’s said anything that suggests he likes having me around for more than just a little bit of instruction.
“What’s the best dog breed?”
“The best?” I ask, confused by the sudden change in tone. I was sure I was about to be asked to weigh in on some sportsball thing or worse, on something to do with dating women.
“Yeah, which one is the best dog?”
I’m still lost. “What are the criteria? Best for families, best for hunting, best for pulling a sled?”
“It’s an overall best dog contest. Which breed of dog is the most dog?” The one on the edge says as though that’s supposed to clear up all my confusion. I’m not getting out of this discussion until I pick one.
“A lab.” It’s a safe bet. People love them, and they’re literally the picture of several examples of dogs in children’s books.
“Okay, but which color?”
Aaron groans and puts his head down on the table. It’d be amusing if I weren’t so lost.
“Chocolate?” Honestly, I’m not sure I even know all the options here.
We were never allowed to have a pet. Apparently, six children was enough chaos in the household without adding anything extra.
The most we ever got was the goldfish my youngest sister, Anne, won at a carnival.
I wasn’t old enough to remember, but family lore says it only survived six weeks before it died to get away from the noise.
“See? I told you so.” Dude-bro number one is very excited. “I like you,” he says, holding his hand up in front of my face. Reluctantly, I give him a high five. This is almost worse than being stood up.
“You should go now,” Aaron says, his head on the table between his hands.
Shit. I knew I should’ve picked a poodle.
“Save yourself from this madness.” He sits back up, a big grin on his face. It melts every ounce of hesitation in my system.
“And leave you here to fight for yourself? Never.”
I know it’s stupid, but I’d rather be here, next to him, even if it does mean spending the evening with the rest of these guys, too.
“What was your vote?” I ask, curious how far apart our suggestions are. Picking the same breed of dog for some imaginary game wouldn’t mean anything, but it would be nice to know we’re on the same wavelength.
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
I shake my head. There’s no way I’m agreeing to something like that, especially if he picked something ridiculous like a Yorkie.
“A dachshund.”
“Seriously? A wiener dog? I’m not sure if we can still be friends.” It’s a joke, but I do seriously question his sanity.
“Don’t laugh. They’re super cute and very recognizable.”
I can’t help the laughter that bubbles up. “They’re ridiculous.”
“All dogs are ridiculous.” Aaron gives me a look.
“Aaron’s a spoil sport. He doesn’t like that you agreed with me,” the guy who high-fived me says.
Shit, I can’t believe that he’s the one I agreed with. If I could do it again, I would be on Aaron’s side even if he picked the worst option.
“Can we change the subject?”
“Fine, fine.”
The guys change the conversation from dogs to work.
Since that doesn’t require my input, I let my mind wander.
It’s weird to see Aaron in this environment.
It’s different from the version of him I get when we’re alone.
Even different from the version I see with his other friends.
I’ve only met them a few times, mostly when he invites me to Matthias’s house.
They’re all great, but I can’t seem to relax.
Maybe because I can tell Aaron’s not comfortable.
Perhaps it’s because I’m there. I wish there was something I could do to help him, especially this evening when he seems particularly uptight, his back stick-straight against the chair.
Instead, I sit quietly, occasionally interjecting with a wow or really so they think I’m following along in the conversation.
An hour later, I’m exhausted and ready to go home and curl up under the blankets in my bed, hiding away until tomorrow morning.
I mentally check my calendar and let myself sleep in until eight.
That still gives me plenty of time to get my work done and be online when people expect to reach me.
I never know when Haskell will be up and working.
It could be four AM or it could be noon.
After several years, I’ve mostly trained him that he’s not going to hear from me until nine, unless we’ve previously agreed on something.
“Thanks for letting me join you tonight. I think I’m going to head out.”
“Oh, great, I’ll go with you.” Aaron stands up and grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. “We can split a ride share.”
“Um… okay.” We live in opposite directions from here, at least I’m pretty sure.
Technically, I’ve never been to his place.
We always meet at mine. The downside of that arrangement is that I have to clean once a week.
The upside being that, with rare exception, my place has never been tidier.
I’m not about to argue with him. At least not here.
“Thanks,” Aaron says as soon as we’re outside. “I needed an excuse to get away. I know those guys can be a lot, but they’re not bad. Plus, I have to work with them, so it helps to be on friendly terms.”
“I get it.” Sort of. One of the great benefits of working for myself is that I don’t have to put up with coworkers I don’t like.
In the rare case that a client and I don’t get along in the long-term, we part ways.
Life is too short for either of us to be unhappy with the arrangement.
“I’m just going to call a car.” I motion toward my phone.
“Oh, I can drive you. If you want.” He motions toward the parking lot. “I drove my car from work. Don’t worry, I only had the one beer when we first got there.”
I think back through the night and find that he’s telling the truth. I’d only seen him sipping on water since I got to the table. “I guess, if it’s not too much trouble.”
AARON
The last thing I expected tonight was to run into Oliver.
I make a point to go out with my coworkers once a month.
They really aren’t that bad, honestly, but they can get a little boisterous.
Most of them are at least five years younger than me, so they’re a bit wild at times.
It’s good to make sure I stay on their good side, though.
They’re the ones who can bail me out when I need to switch a shift or something.
I’m usually counting down the minutes until I can make some escape.
Tonight wasn’t much different, though time passed more quickly with Oliver by my side.
I couldn’t wait until we could take off.
I hated having to share him with the rest of the guys.
It’s selfish, but I wanted to keep him all to myself.
Not share him with anyone. For once, I have something that’s all mine.
When I saw him sitting alone at the bar, I knew he was there on a date. I have absolutely no right to tell him not to see other people. We’re friends. At my insistence, no less. So why did my stomach twist into a pretzel thinking about him out with some other guy?
“Maybe we could do a little crocheting?” I ask when I pull into the parking lot for his apartment building.
“I don’t think I have the focus for something like that.”
“Oh, no problem.” As hard as I try, my disappointment comes through in my voice. “We’re still meeting tomorrow night, right? For our run?”
“Yeah, of course. Unless…”
“Unless what?” Fuck, he’s trying to get out of it. I knew this time would come. It’s not like he needs me. He can run and crochet all on his own.
“You could come up and hang out? We could watch TV… or something.”
“Yes.” I don’t even need to think about it for a minute—anything to get a few more minutes with Oliver.
“You want something to drink?” he asks as soon as we’re inside.
I’ve grown comfortable in his space, used to seeing whatever he’s currently working on strewn around the living room.
He always apologizes and rushes to clean up what’s out, but I like it.
It helps me keep track of his life. Plus, I swear I can tell his current mood and stress level just by looking around.
“Sure, whatever you’re having.” I take my usual spot on his couch. My spot.
Oliver comes in carrying a beer bottle in each hand. “I hope this is okay. It’s all I’ve got in the fridge. There are a few other things, but they’re not cold.”
“This is fine.” Unlike my friend Tyler, I’m not a beer snob. I’ll drink almost anything. It’s not my favorite, but as long as it’s not too hoppy, I’ll take it. “Did you have a show in mind?”
“I’ve been wanting to watch that new crime show, if you’re interested. The one with Sonny Ambrose?”
Honestly, I have no idea what he’s talking about. My TV watching is incredibly limited and usually happens only when I’m stuck on a treadmill for a long run. “Sounds good.” It doesn’t really matter what we put on TV, as long as I get to be with Oliver a little bit longer.
Which is a weird sensation. One that I’m not sure I like. What am I supposed to do with that information?
I enjoy spending time with the guy. Look forward to it even, which is saying a lot for me and my usual anti-social tendencies. Would I go out of my way to spend time like this with Matthias? That’s harder to say.
“You sure this is okay?”
I look up, realizing I’ve been so absorbed in my own thoughts that I have no idea what’s happening on screen. “Perfect.”