Chapter 9 #2
Jared hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. Is he debating whether to go with the car accident or the random Halloween hookup between Darth Vader and Yoda? Or maybe he’s going to explain that we live down the hall from each other?
I answer for him.
“Jared actually saved me from a car accident about a year ago.”
Jared shifts in his seat awkwardly. “I didn’t save you. I just happened to be first on the scene and waited with you until help came.”
“You climbed down a tomo to rescue me.”
Ryan’s forehead creases. “You’ve never told me about that.”
“I was off-duty,” Jared says stiffly.
Jared still looks uncomfortable with the attention focused on him. Does he not want people to know about another heroic deed of his? Or is it considered against professional standards to hook up with someone you’ve rescued? Although the fact that he was off-duty would mitigate that, wouldn’t it?
I decide to help Jared out by diverting attention away from him.
“What about you guys? How did you two meet?” I ask Cody and Ryan.
Ryan suddenly becomes interested in peeling the label off his beer bottle. “Um… we met when we were little.”
Jared raises his eyebrows. “That’s not quite the full tale.”
Ryan rolls his eyes as he stops harassing his bottle.
“Okay, yeah, it’s a bit complicated. The story basically goes: once upon a time, my mother was married to Cody’s dad.
They had our sisters Kate and Mel, and then they divorced.
My mum went on to marry my dad and have me, and Cody’s dad married his mum and had him.
So we’ve never been stepbrothers, but we do have sisters in common.
And we saw each other at stuff like our sisters’ birthday parties and music recitals when we were kids. ”
“You’re missing the part in the fairy tale about how our parents loathed each other for years, so we hardly knew each other growing up,” Cody says.
“Oh yeah, and I also forgot to mention how our sisters constantly told me they wished I’d be more like their other brother when I was a kid. But they weren’t exactly pleased one summer when we got to know each other and I decided to adopt the motto, ‘If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em,’” Ryan says.
“So, a simple, straightforward love story then,” I deadpan.
I love the look Jared gives me when Cody and Ryan laugh. It’s a combination of affection and pride. My stomach does this swooping thing in response.
The conversation moves on to paramedic stories, which is probably fitting for a Hero Awards banquet.
Although the focus of the stories is more about the funny shit that paramedics see rather than their heroic deeds.
Ryan launches into a tale about a man who got his head stuck in a fence trying to retrieve his toupee.
“At least animals have better excuses,” I say. “I’m training to be a vet nurse, and last week, I had a dog who needed stitches on his ear after getting stuck in a letterbox slot. But that’s just dogs being dogs. Humans should know better.”
“You’d think,” Jared agrees. “But last month, Ryan and I had to attend to someone who glued their fingers to their eyelids trying to apply false lashes while drunk.”
“And the difference is your patients can’t lie about what they’ve shoved where they shouldn’t have,” Ryan adds. “Our patients try to convince us that, somehow, a remote control just naturally migrated to places remotes really shouldn’t go.”
I’m busy laughing at Ryan’s words when I spot a familiar figure across the room. My stomach drops like an elevator with cut cables and my amusement dies a premature death.
It’s Carlos.
He’s here with a date who could be my ghost from two years ago. Platinum-blond hair styled to perfection, sharp cheekbones, designer clothes. The guy is young, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two, with that polished look I used to have when I thought being beautiful was a career plan.
Carlos sees me at the same moment I notice him. His eyes widen slightly, then slide to Jared beside me. There’s a moment where I see him calculating before he steers his date toward us with the determination of someone who can’t resist poking at a bruise.
“Felix,” he says smoothly, stopping at our table. “What a surprise.”
His date sways slightly, pupils blown wide. Not drunk, but definitely on something. Molly maybe, or cocaine.
“Carlos.” I stand to face him, and I’m surprised to find I feel…nothing. Not anger, not hurt, just a deep-down realization that Carlos is not worth my time.
Carlos’s eyebrows rise. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Aren’t you working with animals now?” He manages to say those words with a hint of disdain.
“Yes, I’m still training to be a vet nurse. And I’m here with my date, Jared.” I turn to Jared. “Jared, I believe I’ve told you about Carlos.”
Even though Jared and I are only in the FWB category, I have no doubt Jared will have my back in this situation. Because Jared is the type of guy who protects people, whether they’re officially his or just his right now.
Sure enough, Jared stands, extending his hand for a handshake with perfect politeness The side-by-side matchup doesn’t do Carlos any favors. Jared’s got several inches on Carlos and is far more handsome than Carlos with his overly groomed ferret-like face.
I hide a smile when I see Carlos discreetly shaking out his hand after Jared lets go, and I catch the tiniest satisfied quirk at the corner of Jared’s mouth. He’s not usually the territorial type, but something about seeing him claim me, even in this small way, makes my chest warm.
“This is…” Carlos pauses, and I realize he might not actually remember his date’s name. “Tyler.”
“Ty,” the boy corrects softly, but Carlos is already talking over him.
“The bank sponsors these awards. You know how these charity things are, have to show face.” Carlos’s doing that thing where he makes everything sound like an exhausting obligation he’s too important to enjoy.
At the mention of the word face, Ty’s eyes flick to mine, and then his hand goes up to touch his own face, like he’s just checking that his cheek is still perfect. It’s like he’s concerned that my scars are contagious and he needs to make sure he hasn’t caught them.
“Jared’s actually being honored tonight,” I say, letting pride color my voice.
Carlos’s eyebrows crease. “You’re a first responder?”
“Paramedic,” Jared replies.
“How…noble,” Carlos says.
“It’s ridiculously noble,” I say with a grin. “Do you know how hard it is to date someone who literally saves lives? Last week, I tried to impress him by opening a really tight jar after he’d just finished a twelve-hour shift where he delivered a baby in a taxi. The bar is high.”
“I think you manage to sufficiently reach the bar,” Jared says with a grin in my direction before he reverts his attention to Carlos. “And what do you do, Carlos?”
“I’m a compliance analyst at a bank.”
“Oh, right.” Carlos’s job is a conversation stopper, mainly because I’m pretty sure no one at the table understands or actually cares about what his job title means.
“That’s a beautiful suit,” Ty says to me, clearly trying to change the subject. “The color is amazing.”
“Thanks,” I say warmly.
“Felix has excellent taste,” Jared says, his hand finding my lower back.
“I wish I could pull off something like—” Ty starts to say.
“You can barely pull off basic black,” Carlos interrupts him with that same fake-affectionate laugh he used to use when he put me down. “Stick to what you know, babe.”
I watch Ty shrink into himself, the same way I used to, and something in my chest flares to life. It’s not jealousy or regret, but recognition. That was me. That was exactly me, being decorative and quiet and letting someone else decide what was worth saying.
Jared’s jaw tightens. I know he hates bullies. I’ve heard him talk about it after difficult calls involving domestic violence situations.
He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.
“Actually, knowing your basics is the foundation of style,” I say.
“It’s why people who really understand fashion can make a white T-shirt look incredible.
It’s knowing what works for you.” I look directly at Ty.
“That jacket you’re wearing is perfect for your build. You clearly have excellent taste.”
Ty’s face brightens.
“I think you could pull off a suit like this,” I continue. “I actually know the designer who made this suit, so if you’re interested in seeing what else they do, let me know.”
“That would be great,” Ty says.
“I’ll track you down on social media,” I say.
Carlos doesn’t seem particularly happy about this interaction.
“Anyway, we should get back to our table,” Carlos says. “It was…interesting to see you, Felix.” His gaze jumps to Jared.
“Good to see you too,” I say benignly.
As Carlos and Tyler walk away, I hear Carlos saying something in a low voice and Tyler’s murmured apology.
“You okay?” Jared asks quietly, his hand finding mine.
I look at him, really look at him. At this man who listens with genuine interest when I talk about cat parasites, who lets Emmy paint his nails because it makes her happy, who brings me soup when I’m sick and actually remembers I hate celery, who gets genuinely excited about Getting the Goons plot twists like they’re Shakespearean revelations.
“I’m better than okay,” I say, and mean it.
“So, that guy is your ex,” Ryan says as we sit back down.
“Yeah, but don’t judge too harshly. When I was younger, I thought having abs was a personality trait and you were supposed to collect toxic relationships like Pokémon cards.”
The whole table laughs, and Jared squeezes my hand.
And I suddenly realize it doesn’t matter that I’ll never again be the prettiest person at any party. I’m currently sitting at a table with people who actually seem to like me, who laugh at my jokes, include me in conversations, and don’t treat me like an accessory.
And that’s worth more than all the perfect cheekbones in the world.