DEFINITELY NOT GAY
12
Prudence : I didn’t know Nate was an Uber Driver.
Jack : Oh, good, he found you.
Jack : And there were no drivers available, so he offered to pick you up.
Prudence : A little heads up would have been appreciated.
Jack : With the little fight from yesterday, I was afraid you’d be irrational.
Prudence : Irrational?
Jack : Yeah. Like refuse and walk home.
Jack : Or go with Grumpy Guy even though you seem pissed at him.
Jack : You’re gonna have to tell me what happened by the way.
Prudence : I’m not irrational.
Jack : Yeah, you kinda are.
PRUDENCE
This is awkward.
Like, gut clenching and skin crawling awkward.
We’ve been sitting at a table for five minutes that feels like an hour. He’s not talking, I’m avoiding looking directly at him, and we’re both way too interested in our menu.
And I really hope he did not catch me taking a little whiff at his sweater, currently wrapped around my shoulders. Damn him for smelling so good.
Like I said, awkward.
“Are you guys ready to order?” The waitress asks, stopping next to our table with a little notepad.
I clear my throat and risk a glance towards Nate. I wasn’t ready to find his eyes already narrowed on me, and my whole body tenses with more awkwardness.
Yep. He totally saw me sniff at his sweater.
“Sure,” I say to our elderly waitress, my voice probably betraying my level of uneasiness. “I’ll have the zucchini and goat cheese pie, with a side salad.”
“Same for me,” he says, closing his menu to hand it to her. “And some water, please.”
“Thank you.”
She leaves our table with a kind smile, taking both menus—goodbye, oh dear paper shield—with her.
There are only five other people inside the restaurant. Maybe— probably —because no one goes out to eat at a restaurant when it’s raining like the apocalypse has just started. Which it has, to be fair. How else can I explain this unrealistic situation I’m stuck in?
“So,” Nate drawls lazily, leaning back in his chair. Our knees brush from the movement, and I jolt awkwardly. “How have you been?”
Okay, so we’re not going to talk about what he said in the car… What the hell is going on?
“What?” I ask, blinking a couple of times in confusion.
“You know. The last nine or so years? How have you been?”
“Uh… Fine? I guess?”
“Were you at the LAPD for work? To do composite drawings?”
“Hum… Yes. I signed my contract today”
He nods slowly, his eyes boring into mine. He looks so relaxed. How does he look so relaxed when I’m such a nervous wreck? I’ve never confronted him about what I’ve overheard, and he’s never been rude towards me. We’re practically strangers now, but we were never in conflict or whatever. At least not directly. At least not until I found out about the little game Jack and him used to play in college.
Alright, now we’re in conflict.
He starts playing with his fork, and I’m trying my best to come up with something to say, to ask, but I come up empty.
“And, did you know your… friend, Raph, would be there?”
I blink, my brows creasing in confusion. Oh. Okay, that’s what this is, then. Is he stuck in the past? Trying to fix his relationship with Jack by meddling in my relationship like they both used to?
“Not that it’s any of your concern, but no, I did not,” I grit out between my teeth. “And I’m not talking about this with you, especially after what I learned yesterday.”
“Come on, you can’t be that mad,” he says, rolling his eyes like it’s no big deal. “Those guys were absolute assholes, we did you a favor.”
Awkwardness left. Anger entered the chat.
How can he think that what they did was okay? I spent years trying to build my self confidence after that first year of college! Every guy who showed the least bit of interest in me ended up standing me up and proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the year.
“A favor ?” I hiss.
“Trust me it was. Jerkwood was far from being the worst of them.”
“Not the fucking point, Nate! You should never have meddled in who I date or don’t date! Neither Jack nor you for that matter.”
“And let you get hurt?”
I scoff in frustration. “What, like the way you hurt most of the female population back then?”
He frowns and I high five myself in my head. Easy to put the blame on everyone else and forget you’re part of the overall problem.
Truth is, I might not have been hurt in that way, but the way I’ve been constantly rejected still did some damage. Yes, I’ve never really had my heart broken by some dude lying to get in my pants, but because of what Jack and him did, I’ve always felt there was something wrong with me. Before that, I’ve never really paid much thought about myself. I dated a few guys in high school and lost my virginity as a senior to my first real boyfriend—whom I broke up with because we went to college on opposite sides of the country. And then, college. Where guys would talk to me and ask me out before standing me up and ghosting me for the rest of the year, pretending like I never existed when we would ever cross paths.
So obviously, I thought there was something wrong with me. Maybe I smelled bad. Maybe there was something unpleasant about my body or my face, which would have explained why my other siblings were always looking at me like I had the plague.
But of course, Nate would not understand something like this. Because he’s a guy. The guy. The one girls were fighting over for even a minute of his attention. The one who never dated the same one twice. Of course he would never understand what it’s like to be the one left aside.
And to admit how I felt all these years because of him ? No. Not worth the embarrassment.
“It’s not the same,” he mutters.
“Oh, it’s not? How is it not? Were you not one of those same assholes? Were you not sleeping around with all the girls, not giving a shit about their poor hearts, interested only about getting laid and nothing else?”
His hand flexes on the table as his gaze narrows on me, eyes suddenly darker. The muscle in his jaw twitches a couple of times, a clear indicator that I’ve hit a nerve. Good .
“I won’t deny that I’d spent most of my first three years fucking around and I guess it had earned me a reputation if you throw it back in my face even now. But even though you think you’ve got me all figured out, you’re wrong.” He smiles smugly. “I’ve always been honest about my intentions. The girls who shared my bed knew from the start that it was never supposed to be serious.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Yeah, sure. Like you didn’t know some of them would hope for more than that!”
“My intentions were clear,” he shrugs, “I was not responsible for their expectation. And, as I told you, it’s not the same. I was always honest, whether they chose to listen or not,” he says, leaning forward to get closer, invading my space over the table. “The guys I overheard talking about you during that whole damn year? Oh, they were not above lying their way to your bed. So, I’m going to repeat what I said yesterday when you were leaving. I’m not sorry about scaring them away back then. Because if there was one woman I couldn’t see hurt, it was you. So blame me, I don’t fucking care. I did what was right, and I wish Jack and I never fought, so I would have kept doing it, kept scaring all the Jerkwoods of this world away because they didn’t and will never deserve someone like you.”
My breath itches in my throat as we stare at each other, his eyes as dark as a storming sea. What does he mean by all that? If I didn’t suspect him to be secretly in love with my brother, I could almost think—no. It has to be something else, right? Resentment? Those two emotions can easily be confused, right? There is no way he would look at me like this.
But his eyes don’t dart away, and my skin is starting to burn from his—too intense—gaze.
“Here we are! Careful it’s hot, just out of the oven.”
I jump as the waitress places our plates in front of us, and I’m almost certain I see his eyes spark with satisfaction and the corner of his lips tilt upwards.
I’m hallucinating again. I might really have to check in with Jack’s neurologist, it’s getting out of hand.
“I—I need to use the washroom,” I stutter, standing up abruptly.
The waitress points to the door next to the kitchen entrance and I grab my phone before I flee. I lock myself in and freeze in front of the mirror, grabbing the lip of the sink.
Why am I freaking out?
Because of that weird look in his eyes? I’m obviously wrong. Either my damn brain or my storytelling eyes are trying to fuck with me.
I need to focus on the facts.
He scared guys away because he didn’t want me to get hurt. Why? Because he was friends with Jack who was overprotective of me.
His reputation as a heartbreaker is a little bit exaggerated, if what he says is true. After all, I hate to admit it but he’s right. He’s not responsible for other people’s expectations.
For whatever reasons, he thinks he’s doing me a favor in meddling with my relationships, and I need to put an end to this. I don’t care if he plans on doing this again to reconnect with Jack or something, but I won’t let that happen. It was not okay then, and things have changed. Jack is not like that anymore.
Jack…
What did Nate say about Jack giving him the go ahead to f—
Oh god. I can’t believe he managed to…
My phone pings on the side of the sink.
Unknown : How long do you intend to hide in the washroom? Food is getting cold.
Prudence : Then eat.
Unknown : I have manners. I’m waiting for you to come back to start.
Prudence : If you had manners, you wouldn’t be pressing me and complaining.
Unknown : I said manners, not patience.
I roll my eyes. What a jerk.
I take a few deep breaths, staring at my reflection and going over the facts in my head again to clear my mind.
1 – Except for what happened in college, I have no reason to be mad at Nate. We were not friends, but we were always cordial. There’s no bad blood.
2 – He helped me out a couple of times and that got him in trouble with my brother, and just for that, he gets a few brownie points—I kinda feel guilty about that still to be honest.
3 – If what he says is right, he was not the heartbreaker I thought he was in college. After all, he shouldn’t be blamed for people’s expectations.
4 – He’s obviously trying to patch things up with Jack, whether it’s because he secretly loves him or not. But it’s not a reason to let him invade and meddle with my personal life either.
Alright. I’m good. The look I’ve seen on his face was in my head and I can focus on the facts. I don’t know why I’ve been “glaring” at him or felt awkward about being alone with him, but I have no reasons to. I’m not nineteen anymore, and I’ve learned to look after myself and speak my mind. Jack has changed too, and there are no reasons for Nate to be stuck in the past.
So, I’m going to take a long breath of this sweater—so good—and then I’m going to get out of this restroom, walk back to the table, eat my food while it’s not too cold, and talk to him like a reasonable and rational adult human being.
Because, unlike what Jack says, I am not irrational.
Then why do I want to kick Nate in the shins for the smug look on his face as soon as I sit back down in front of him? Does he have cameras in the bathroom? Does he know I’ve been smelling his sweater like a lunatic?
Deep breaths.
“So,” I start, cutting a small piece of pie from my plate, “now that we’re out of the imminent death by rain, will you please explain what the hell you meant by… when you said my brother gave you the go ahead to… You know?”
I’m a rational adult human being. Adult being the key word here. Why can’t I say it?
“To?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, the corner of his lips tilting upwards slightly. “You’re going to have to be more specific, I’m afraid.”
“Come on, you know what I’m talking about.”
Fuck. F-u-c-k. Come on, I can say it. I’m not a child. I even had a one night stand not that long ago, I —
“Please, enlighten me.”
My face feels like all my blood has moved there. I feel purple with embarrassment. So much for speaking my mind and being rational .
“When you said you were mad at Jack. For being out of his mind and giving you his blessing,” I say, stilling my spine and willing the flush to leave my damn face.
He smirks then—that arrogant ass—and leans forwards, invading my space and I force myself not to back away. “Oh, you mean when I mentioned that your previously overprotecting brother said it was okay if I fucked you in my car?”
Here . That word. Why couldn’t I say it? And why am I blushing even more now that he said it?
Come one Prue, pull your shit together. You’re not a child. You’re 27, nearly 28. You had sex before, it’s nothing new.
“Yes. That,” I say, clearing my throat.
“What about it?”
“What about it?” I frown. “Well, can you just explain how the hell did that conversation occur? I mean, you guys had a fight about assumption on this particular subject 9 years ago, so why the hell did—”
“Because there’s something wrong with him and I tried to poke him to get a reaction,” he cuts off, crossing his arms over his chest with a shrug. “He can smile and joke and laugh all he wants, I don’t buy it. There’s something wrong.”
“Of course there’s something wrong!” I whisper yell frantically. “He’s sick and in pain, and afraid! He knows he won’t live long and he wants to make things right with you, so can you please stop messing with his head?”
His eyes narrow on me and he bites the inside of his cheek, like he’s lost in his thoughts.
“Hm… So you do know how bad it is,” he muses. “But, do you know what scares him the most?”
Do I? I know he has a list he won’t show me or talk about and having a sit down with our parents is on that list. Is he afraid of dying before he can go through it all?
“Leaving you behind,” Nate answers, his voice and eyes suddenly softer. “He’s afraid of leaving you alone. He thinks because he protected you from guys when you were younger, he doomed you to loneliness. That, because of him meddling and needing you so much, you’ll be alone and sad when he’s gone.”
He releases a long and heavy sigh and I notice the muscle of his jaw flexing. I’m frozen in my seat. That’s why he’s been acting like this since we moved here. That’s why he’s pushing me away. Because he knows how I feel. He knows that, without him, I’m not sure I can move forward. That I’ll be stuck in grief, unable to move on. That he is all I have, and somehow, he feels guilty about it.
“How long has he been—Let’s say, less protective of you?” He asks.
How long has he? Not that long, honestly. I remember freaking out about two years ago when he encouraged me to date some guy he met at a book signing. I was so shocked that he actually tried to set me up that I laughed to tears before dismissing it.
How surprised I was that he actually seemed happy for me when I mentioned I was seeing someone a few weeks later. He was usually never happy about me dating, and I used to dread these conversations.
“A couple of years,” I admit softly.
He nods slowly, eyes boring into mine, and I pick up my fork again to eat another piece of pie—this shit is absolutely delicious.
“Anyway,” Nate says in a sigh, picking up a little bit of salad from his plate, “I was just trying to get a rise out of him. When I offered to pick you up, I was expecting him to outright refuse. When he didn’t I pushed a little, trying to see if he really trusted me or if it was a test of some sort, I don’t know.”
“Maybe he’s just trying to show you he’s really sorry about what happened and that he trusts you,” I muse. “Because he is, you know? Sorry?”
He chews in silence, looking down at his plate for a few seconds before answering. “I know.”
“And he missed you.”
Another silence. “I missed him too.”
My lips stretch in a small smile. Before Nate, Jack never had this kind of male companionship. Most guys he tried to befriend before college were… Well, either had trouble accepting his disabilities or sexuality, even though he was not advertising it to the whole world. Nate had been different from the start. Accepting him as he was, not pushing him away or weirded out. They met when they became roommates and were inseparable until that damn night.
“So can you please stop torturing him now?”
“Torturing him?” He frowns, lifting his gaze to meet mine.
“Yes. Stop trying to push his buttons by implying stuff.”
One of his brow rises. “Oh no, on the contrary. If he is desperate enough to let you date guys like that clown at the precinct, I’m going to push his buttons even more.”
“And here’s to my next point; stop meddling in my personal life,” I say sternly, pointing at him with my fork. “You can reconnect with Jack without reliving the good old days.”
“Oh, I probably won’t. I’ll even say that I’ll be doing it more. If Jack doesn’t make sure they deserve you, I will.” I frown, but he continues before I can say anything. “Oh, and by the way—Let’s clear the air, shall we?” He pauses and stares at me, his eyes bluer than they’ve ever been. “Me?” He asks, pointing at himself with his own fork. “Definitely not gay.”