6. Malcolm
MALCOLM
K aylin is sketchy about the idea of taking a break. She’s going on a trip to Europe for three weeks with some of her college girlfriends in a few days, so I thought it’d be good timing for her, which is why I don’t get why she’s pushing back. I thought she’d be relieved.
But maybe it’s the “date” I went on with Isla that’s got her looking at me funny. Admittedly, I’m not proud of caving to Isla’s relentless flirting either. I wanted to prove something to myself, I guess, but I only ended up making a bigger mess.
When I tell Kaylin about it, she stares at me like I just struck her. “Your mentor? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I told you—nothing happened.”
Kaylin crosses her arms and breathes heavily, facing off with me in the kitchen. “I’m not the one asking for a break all of a sudden.”
Is it all of a sudden, though? She’s gotta feel this relationship malaise, too. Right? Is it just me? “I’m not the one going to Europe for three weeks,” I mumble.
Her gaze narrows, but with a little less heat, she asks, “Nothing happened? Really? ”
I sigh, remembering Isla’s hands all over me at happy hour.
I’d tolerated it, tried not care about the fact that I was putting myself in a compromising situation, but the second she started sliding her hand down my abs, I’d balked, asked for the tab, backed away from her, and left the bar.
I didn’t even jerk off when I got home, which is as much a part of my routine as brushing my teeth.
“Really,” I assure her. “But I feel like the fact that I even considered it is enough reason to take a step back here. I’m obviously a fucking mess right now.”
Her lips press together as she studies my face. “Why is that?”
“The internship I guess. This stupid challenge,” I say. Ryan .
She drops her arms and sighs before taking a look around the kitchen. “Right. Well, if they’re on their way, we should…” She gestures at the cluttered kitchen like she’s run out of words for how much of a disaster I am.
“You don’t have to help,” I tell her. “I’d understand if you want to go.”
She inhales deeply through her nose and gives her head a small shake, her disappointment in me evident. “No. I’m okay. I wanna see Ryan anyway.”
Ouch.
He and Bailey are going to be here soon, and my apartment is a mess from a chaotic weekend spent ordering takeout, letting dishes pile up, and leaving things wherever.
Kaylin grabs a sponge and some cleaning spray from under the sink, getting to work on the kitchen island.
As I do the dishes, I let her go on about what a screw-up I am.
“Did you decide to take this break before or after you reached out to Ryan?” she asks.
“Before. Why? ”
“Because you’re right. You’ve been a hot mess since you started that internship.”
“It’s fucking hard,” I say.
“Being around him?” she asks leadingly.
The question makes me clench my jaw. What is she implying? “No,” I say, annoyed. “The internship. I’m not sure finance is for me.”
“Oh my God. Mal .”
“ What? ” I snap, already knowing what she’s going to say.
“Please tell me you’re not gonna quit this, too.”
“I didn’t say that.” I’ve thought about it, though. I’ve been thinking about it all weekend.
“Can you ask for a new mentor? It sounds like Isla is more interested in getting laid than teaching you anything.”
Kaylin’s not wrong about that. I have no idea what I’m in for the next time I see Isla. “I’m considering asking.”
“If you think fucking her is gonna make it better—I’ve got news for you?—”
“I am not going to fuck her,” I say definitively.
“But if she’s the problem…” She trails off leaving me to think things through, which is never a good idea.
I’m not sure Isla is the problem. She’s not making life any easier, but at least I know where I stand with her.
“It’s more like I feel like a loser,” I tell Kaylin as I close the dishwasher and start the wash cycle. “Everybody else seems like they’re doing great, and I’m over here flailing.”
“Flailing is one word for it.”
“Do you have a better one?” I ask.
“I’m interested to see how you interact with Ryan.”
I groan. “It’s not even about him.”
“Are you sure?”
No. I’m not, and I hate that she can see right through me. “It’s not only about him. ”
“Is there something in particular you’re hoping will happen with him?” she asks.
My shoulders stiffen as I turn to face her. “What does that mean?”
She also turns, a shockingly dirty sponge in hand.
I asked Kaylin to be here for three reasons.
To tell her about what happened with Isla and how I needed to take a break.
To help me clean up my apartment, and for moral support.
She knows the history between Ryan and me, and she can help pull me back from the edge if I find myself too close to going over.
This all presupposed the theory that she’d be okay with taking a break, but since she’s not a hundred percent agreeing to it, I’m leaning into the other reasons.
The other problem is she brought her dog.
It’s a Yorkie—a tiny blue and tan ball of nervous energy who’s clingy as fuck—and not with Kaylin like she should be.
With me . The dog is like velcro when I’m around.
Like we’re bonded mates or something. She’s currently circling my feet, and I pick her up, tucking her under my arm so I don’t accidentally step on her.
Her name is Stephanie, which is a ridiculous name for a dog, but suits her.
Today, Stephanie is dressed for a night out with a crystal collar and a little black satin bow over her right eye. Kaylin is a pretty normal person except when it comes to her dog, who has the bigger wardrobe and far more accessories.
“I mean—are you ready to clear the air and put the past in the past?” she asks.
“I told him I forgive him.”
She lifts her brows. “How’d that go over?”
“He made me feel like I’m the one who needs forgiveness.”
“He’s not wrong…”
“You always take his side,” I complain.
“We haven’t talked about him in years,” she argues.
“It’s fucking complicated, okay? Do you think I should mop?” I stare down at my kitchen floor. If the counter’s that dirty…
“Do you own a mop?”
“I have a Swiffer, but I never feel like I’m using it right.”
“How can—? Never mind. Just sweep. I’ll get the stovetop since you’ve got your hands full.”
“Thanks,” I say, very grateful. Before Kaylin arrived, I cleaned the bathroom and vacuumed the living room rug.
After that, I suctioned out all the crumbs between the couch cushions and wiped down the coffee table.
Now, with the dog tucked under my arm, I sweep the kitchen one-handed then take a bottle of spray cleaner over to the dining area, figuring we’ll work there whenever Ryan and Bailey get here.
I offered my place to meet since I don’t have a roommate, although I realize it’s gonna look like Kaylin lives with me with her dog here and all.
“Are you nervous?” she calls from the kitchen.
“No. Sort of.”
“Who scares you more? This Bailey person or Ryan?”
“They scare me equally,” I say, but I’m far more nervous about being around Ryan and keeping my cool.
The effect he has on me is unpredictable.
Sometimes I manage complete indifference, and other times I feel a rage so primal, I could literally kill him and get off with the insanity defense—it’s that irrational.
“Sorry you suck at blackjack,” Kaylin says.
“Yeah. Well. Thanks for staying.”
She walks over to me and rubs her hands on my arms before leaning in to peck Stephanie’s forehead. Then she looks up at me. “For better or worse, you’re stuck with me. Break or no break.”
“So the break…are you okay with it?”
Her mouth flattens into a grim line. “If that’s what you need. ”
“I thought you’d be more receptive,” I admit.
She sighs. “Look, I get that this might not feel like mad, passionate love anymore, but I do love you.”
“Like— in love ?” Because it hasn’t felt like that since we graduated high school.
“More like solid, I want you to be happy love,” she concedes. “So if this is what you need…”
“I want you to be happy, too,” I tell her.
“I appreciate that. And I get that we’re both creatures of habit,” she says. “What we have is easy. You’re still my best friend, Mal.”
“You’re mine, too,” I tell her.
“Is this just a prelude to a break up, though?” she asks.
“I’m honestly not sure.”
She breaks eye contact and takes another deep breath. “Wow. Okay.”
“Please don’t,” I nearly beg. The last thing I want is for her to be sad. “I only mean I don’t want to waste any more of your time if I’m not sure.”
“What are you not sure about, Mal?”
The question is too direct. It causes a pressure drop in my stomach.
I dodge. “Maybe we can table this until after you come back from Europe.”
She returns her gaze to my eyes and squints like she’s trying to read the fine print. “Okay,” she says carefully. “Any plans?”
I shake my head. My mind is literally a blank space. This is the right move—I know that for sure. What I don’t know is why I’m so sure about that but absolutely nothing else.
“Steer clear of Isla.”
“Have fun in Europe, okay?” I say in return.
Her expression is grim. “I feel like you want me to thank you or something. ”
“It’s not that, I promise.”
“When you figure out what it is, you’ll tell me?”
That, I can do. “Yes.”
A knock at the door causes Stephanie to yip, and I nearly come out of my skin.
Kaylin asks, “You want me to get it?”
“No,” I say weakly, then clear my throat and try it again. “No. I got it.”
I take a deep breath that doesn’t quite reach the bottom of my lungs and open the door.
It’s just Bailey. She’s wearing olive green denim overalls over a white tank top.
She’s got a half sleeve tattoo on her right arm of the Lovers tarot card, but in this case, both lovers are women.
It’s a really nice piece of ink, fully saturated color and fine details.
“That’s really pretty,” I tell her, nodding at her arm.
I get the glare I expect for that, but then a grudging, “Thanks. Cute dog.”