Chapter 8 #3
I was about to respond with something defensive, but before I spoke all the air went out of me.
Because he was right. I was always anticipating disaster or predicting all the ways in which people would let me down before we even got started.
There was nothing about Tom to dislike or judge.
I knew he wasn’t perfect—no one was—but so far all he’d been to me was decent.
“Fine. I’ll try to keep an open mind.”
Juanpa and Patrice both widened their eyes after I said that.
“Wow. This guy must be something,” Patrice said in a rare display of emotion.
Juan Pablo, who thought he was fucking hilarious, got up and put his palm on my forehead pretending to feel for a fever. I slapped it away and took another sip of my wine.
“Leave me alone, you idiot.”
He took his phone out of this pocket.
“We’re calling Nesto, because he needs to know there’s some molecular level shit happening with you. I mean you almost admitted to me being right about something, and if that’s not an indication we need to keep you under close observation, I don’t know what is.”
I just ignored him as Patrice laughed on the other side of the couch. Pretty soon I could hear Nesto.
“Yo, is that the new couch? It looks fly, man.” I immediately stood up and yelled at the phone before J could get a word in.
“Don’t believe anything Juan Pablo says Ernesto, you know how he lies.”
Our best friend’s amused voice sounded through Juanpa’s apartment. “Oh shit, are you all drunk already, it’s like seven! How come you’re not at the stadium, J?”
Juanpa was a physical therapist for the Yankees and this time of year, he was usually working all the time. He shook his head as he looked at the phone.
“I’m off tonight, working six days straight next week.”
Patrice stood up and calmly took the phone from J, which meant he was about to bring the conversation back to me.
Great.
He winked at me before smiling at Nesto’s face on the screen. “We’re not drunk. We’re just trying to gently tell Camilo he’s occasionally judgmental and impulsive.”
J and I sat down on either side of Patrice as he held the phone out, so we could all get a look at Nesto. I bit my tongue as our friend cackled. “Damn and he hasn’t slashed your faces with a rusty razor yet? Camilo, you’re losing your edge, pa.”
I grumbled under my breath but stayed quiet as Patrice relayed my woes to Nesto. As he talked, Jude, Nesto’s partner came into the room, put his head on his shoulder, and joined the conversation.
By the time Patrice finished, Jude’s pretty face had broken into a grin, and his bright blue eyes were looking in my direction.
“Camilo, this guy sounds great.” He gave me a sympathetic look, an adorable pout forming on his lips. “And like he’ll keep you on your toes. I can’t wait to hear how you guys get on.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. “I’m not dating this guy, people! He’s a donor for the agency.”
Nesto shot me some side-eye before chiming in with his hot take on the matter.
“First of all, it feels amazing to be giving you relationship advice. Second, bitch, please. This man asked to meet with you every week so he can get a random update you could send him in a two-line email, and you don’t think it’s because he’s looking for an excuse to see you? Come on, Milo.”
“Fine. Okay,” I answered a little wildly. “But it’s really not that deep.”
Various protests resulted from my very obvious lie, and I finally conceded.
“Okay, maybe he does want more, but I really don’t want to go there, because I’m really attracted to him and so far, he’s been very much sticking to business.
” I sighed feeling like I needed to let this out.
If only to admit it to myself, and if I couldn’t say it to these people, then who could I say it to?
“And I’m kind of freaked, because he’s amazing, not just because he’s gorgeous, and rich and really does have a magnificent cock.
” That broke the tension a bit at least. “He’s nice and down-to-earth.
He talked about his family in the DR when we met today, and about the aunt he’s honoring with the shelter renovation. ”
“Yeah, I can see this is all a big problem.” Nesto thought he was cute. He wasn’t.
“It is, you asshole.” I pressed my fingers to my eyes as I talked.
“I get carried away when I like someone this much and then ruin everything by running my mouth or acting jealous. I just don’t want to get my hopes up, that’s all.
I don’t want to end up brokenhearted and jobless over this.
I mean that seriously, too; my boss will not be okay with me fucking around with a donor.
Hell, I’m not okay with it. It’s inappropriate and…
fuck it’s just not a good idea,” I said, feeling miserable.
When I stopped talking I saw they were all looking at me with worried faces. Patrice put his arms around my shoulder.
“Camilo, you’re not going to lose your job.
You’re amazing at it, and you will run that renovation like the pro you are.
As far at Tom is concerned, just see where things go.
You’re being too hard on yourself right now; nothing has happened yet.
” He tugged on my ear then, like we usually did to each other when one of us was being particularly dense.
“And for the record, whether it’s with Tom or anyone else, just let go a bit.
Be yourself, don’t try to be who you think you should be.
The person you are,” he gently tapped my chest with his finger.
“The guy we get all the time, is wonderful. No one who gets to see the real you would ever walk away.”
I looked around at my friends, and their faces were so full of affection, so certain I deserved to be happy. I felt the tightness in my chest loosen a bit. Maybe if I could not trust myself, I could trust what my friends believed about me and what I deserved.
“Thank you, but now we have to stop talking about this. Please?” I pleaded then turned my attention to Patrice. “Nesto, give us the real report on what Patrice is up to with Easton. Are they fucking or what?”
Juanpa muttered, “Dayum, you’re just gonna drag him like that, huh? Ruthless little fucker.”
I preened at what was clearly a compliment and let the conversation steer off me and onto Patrice’s new job.
As I sat there hearing my friends chatter, I thought about Tom, and wondered if he was thinking about our talk today. If like me, he was anxious and eager for next Wednesday.