18
Courtland
I've spent the entire evening on Buzz's couch eating my feelings, worried about letting him know my chat with Zane didn't go according to plan.
I'm not proud of the way I behaved.
And not just today.
Right from the very beginning.
Zane is right, I haven't liked him since the moment we met. Which is juvenile and unfair of me.
My whole jealousy thing when it comes to Buzz is juvenile and unfair.
I have no claim on the guy whatsoever. If anything, I should be pushing him to be with someone, since deep down, I know that someone can't ever be me.
I'd like it to be me.
I'd love it to be me.
But we lead two very different lives in two very different places. That's never going to change.
I've only ever wanted what's best for him, and I've let my irrational feelings get in the way of that. What if Zane is his guy? Why am I being such a selfish prick and standing in the way of Buzz's happiness?
Because I want to be Buzz's happiness.
It's been gnawing at me all night—the realization that what I want and what I can have are two dramatically different things.
I tip my head back and shake the last salty Lays crumbs straight into my mouth, momentarily drowning my sorrow with potatoes, oil, and salt.
As I finish chewing, the key clicks in the lock, and the front door opens. Buzz steps in, and even though he's coming off a brutal two-day-shift, he still looks like he could be the lead star in a fireman porno.
His turnout jacket is slung over one shoulder, his shirt clings to his sweaty, soot-smudged skin, and his suspenders hang loose at his sides. He must be exhausted because instead of heading straight to the shower, he kicks off his boots and collapses next to me on the sofa, eyeing what's left of my pity party for one spread on the coffee table.
"This feels familiar,"
he says, and even when he's tired, that low, deep voice of his ignites a fire in my belly.
"Please don't ever compare me to Howie."
He angles his head to me and grins.
"You're right. I'm sorry. At least you're wearing pants."
"He…didn't? Ugh. Straight guys."
"Tell me about it."
He sits up, drums his fingers along the side of the table, and picks up an Oreo.
"So, how did it go with Zane today?"
he asks, taking a bite.
"Yeah. About that. You might want something stronger than an Oreo."
He groans and slumps into the sofa.
"What happened?"
"Things got a little out of hand."
I inhale slowly.
"He didn't believe me when I said you're not ready or looking for a relationship. Accused me of lying. Oh, and he knows I don't like him."
Buzz cocks his head.
"How does he know that?"
"He figured it out. Guess I didn't do as good a job as I thought of hiding it."
"Court,"
he sighs, exasperated.
"I asked you to be nice to him."
"I tried my best…which obviously wasn't good enough. I'm sorry."
He frowns, and I can tell he's hating this. Buzz is not a confrontational guy at all. He has no need to be. With his easygoing personality, he rarely gets into conflict with anyone.
Unlike me.
People either love me or hate me. More often than not, it's the latter.
I don't know why. Maybe I give off bad vibes?
Mom once said I needed to smile more. That I'm a nice guy, but my stony expression gives people the wrong impression, that it makes me seem unapproachable or intimidating.
I guess I am those things in a way. Buzz can make friends anywhere with anyone in no time at all. It takes me longer to warm up to people, to trust them enough to let them get to know the real me.
"What was the worst thing you said to him?"
he asks, snatching the entire packet of Oreos.
I wince.
"There were a few doozies,"
I admit reluctantly.
"Pick one."
"I told him he should get a haircut."
Silence.
Buzz stops chewing.
He bites back a grin, knuckles pressed against his lips.
"That's not funny."
"Then why are you trying so hard not to smile?"
"That's not what I'm doing. I'm…chewing."
"Sure you are."
He chuckles and shakes his head.
"Fine. It's a little funny."
He turns to me, and the smile fades from his face, replaced by a quiet intensity.
"But it's a lot inappropriate. Zane is my friend, Court. Whether you like it or not, you are going to have to live with that."
"I know,"
I say, hanging my head.
"I'll make more of an effort to be civil."
"You promise?"
I nod.
"Yeah. I promise."