Chapter 14
WAYLON
It’s been a very nice, solid month of hooking up with Lyric. And true to our agreement, we haven’t actually done any sleeping together. It’s been close a couple times, but we’ve managed to get back to our respective beds.
Today, we’re both at work, but we’ve been texting a bit this morning about random shit. We tend to do the same in our conversations.
LYRIC
Do you believe in aliens?
ME
Oh, for sure.
LYRIC
Based on what?
ME
Because there’s no way we’re all there is.
LYRIC
What about Bigfoot?
ME
Less convinced. What are your thoughts on the possibility of zombies?
LYRIC
I really hope not, considering where I work. But I’m not a scientist. Though I’m fairly certain I would totally survive.
ME
Oh, I’m sure you would. You’re feisty as hell.
LYRIC
Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.
I laugh out loud, capturing the attention of Banks, which is unfortunate.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“Just something Lyric said.” I shrug, not thinking anything of it, and tuck my phone back into my pocket.
“So, that’s working out then?”
“What’s working out?” I might’ve snapped that out with a bit too much bite.
“Uh, being roommates? What else would I mean?” he asks, his eyebrows arching with suspicion.
“Oh, yeah, it’s fine.”
Banks stares at me as I do my best to ignore him. His eyes are burning a hole in the side of my face.
“Stop looking at me, dude.” I don’t even make eye contact with him.
“I’m not going to push,” he says, refilling his ink bottles. “But there’s definitely something you’re not telling me.”
“Listen, pretty boy, how about you go fluff your hair in the mirror and fuck off?”
“Classic deflection,” he says, shaking his head.
He goes back to his task, so I pull my phone back out.
LYRIC
I know we’re supposed to have that prepped chicken in the fridge for dinner, but I’m thinking we should blow each other, have a smoke session, and get some cheeseburgers delivered instead. Thoughts?
ME
Deal.
I put my phone away and focus on tracing over this image for my next client. It’s a floral piece with a dagger in the center. I’ve been given artistic freedom, which made me pretty happy.
“You know that’s totally couples’ stuff, right?” Banks says.
When I look over at him, he’s still just filling his bottles. No eye contact, no pause in his task. He’s just opening his dumbass mouth.
“Eating food together? That’s all it takes?” I don’t stop my task either. I just keep tracing my lines and rolling my eyes.
“Okay, I’m like 99.3% sure eating food isn’t all that’s going on, but I won’t push.
But all I’m saying is that it feels like a little more.
Very couple-y. Hosting a party together, having this many meals together, spending all your free time together.
” He shrugs his shoulders, pressing his lips together tightly. “But who am I to say anything?”
I really hate him sometimes. Banks can be such a little instigator.
What the hell does that pretty boy know about relationships with women, friend or otherwise?
Not a damn thing, that’s what. The only reason he even brought that girl Megan was to use her connection to some photographer.
That’s not even friendship. And I literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual girlfriend.
Maybe I’m more pissed off at the fact that he’s possibly right.
Lyric and I do spend a lot of time together.
We eat almost all our meals together and have a couple of smoke sessions a week.
Neither of us have gone on dates with anyone else.
We’re having… a lot of sex. That’s… that is dating. Sort of. Fuck.
This is all I’m going to be able to think about for the rest of the day.
Maybe I should cancel tonight’s festivities and say I’m busy or something.
Wait, wait. We have rules and we’ve followed them.
No falling asleep together. Check. Mostly, anyway.
I guess that’s the only rule we have. Well, we had the first rule.
No hooking up. But that didn’t exactly work out.
Now, we have this rule, this boundary that helps us keep things separate.
Is it working? That’s a good goddamn question. Banks opened his mouth, and now I’m all turned around about it. I mean, I wanted a roommate I could hang out with. I wanted more than what the previous ones were giving. But now, maybe I’m getting too much.
I pull out my phone and send a message before I can give it any more thought.
ME
Actually, rain check. I’ve gotta do another thing tonight.
She replies a second later.
LYRIC
Oh ok.
I’m not sure what I expected. I don’t know if I was thinking there’d be more or… maybe more is the right word. Why am I even worried? I should focus on what the hell I’m going to do now since I can’t go home.
“Hey, you wanna get drinks later?” I turn to Banks, who looks at me quizzically.
“Uh, sure,” he says.
He’s probably wondering how the hell I went from “shut the fuck up” to “let’s hang,” but we’re guys so we won’t talk about it. Ever.
“I’ll text Killian and Ridge, see if they want to go,” he says.
“Cool.” Fuck. If Ridge comes, Darcy will know and she’ll tell Lyric. Wait. So what? She’s not my girlfriend. It should be totally fine if I want to hang out with the guys. I’m overthinking this and it’s all Banks’ fault.
I’m just going to keep my head down for the rest of the day and try not to think about anything at all. That’s my sweet spot.
“I’m telling you, man, we should definitely do Las Vegas for the bachelor party,” Banks says. “I bet we could ask Avery for a ride on his wife’s private jet.”
“I think it’s his private jet, too,” Ridge says. “They’re married.”
“You don’t think she had him sign a prenup?” Killian asks.
“I mean, maybe she did, but honestly, if you spend more than an hour with them, you’ll be convinced that they’ll never leave each other.
Ridge and Darcy are annoyingly in love, right?
Well, Avery and Helena put them to shame.
Disgustingly in love with each other.” Banks takes a swig from his longneck.
“Hey, fuckface, I love Darcy a disgusting amount, too,” Ridge says.
“This isn’t a love-measuring competition,” I say, chiming in. “No need to whip it out and grab a ruler.”
“Yeah, because you’d need a yardstick,” Ridge says. “Pfffft. Ruler.”
“This is a weird conversation,” Killian says.
“Yeah, so tell me, Waylon, how’s the new roommate situation?” Ridge asks.
“What? Fine. Why?” I take a sip from my beer.
“Uh, I’m just asking, dude,” he says.
“Awfully defensive…” Banks says, his words trailing off.
“No, really, it’s fine. She cooks, which is great. We hang out,” I say, shrugging. “Not much else to tell.”
Killian narrows his eyes at me, but the other two don’t seem to notice because all eyes are on me—narrowed or otherwise.
“So, Ridge, Las Vegas?” I probably said that a little too forcefully. But Banks is more into the idea of a bachelor party than literally anything else right now, so I pray he’ll take the bait.
“Yeah, man! We have to. It will be so great,” Banks says.
As predicted. I zone out as Banks lists all of the reasons it’s an excellent idea. He mentions getting snazzy suits, drinking top-shelf liquor, and something about gambling inside a strip club, which apparently doubles the fun. Sounds to me like a good way to waste your money twice as fast.
Ridge says he’ll think about it, but I know it’s only to placate him in the moment. There’s no way in hell that’s Ridge’s idea of a good time.
“Also, I don’t mean to brag or anything, but I’d make a great groomsman, or even best man,” Banks says.
Something tells me he’d steal the limelight, but what do I know? Ridge rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Uh, well, I hadn’t planned on asking anyone just yet, but now that you mention it… Waylon, it’d mean the most to me if you were my best man,” Ridge says, then quickly adds, “But I want all of you standing up there with me on the day, of course.”
He looks at both Banks and Killian.
“You know I’m there for you, man,” Killian says.
“I mean, it’s not the job I wanted, but it’s the job I’ll take,” Banks says, jokingly.
“Thanks, man,” I say, clasping him on the shoulder. “I’d be honored.”
There’s a full ten seconds of silence before it’s broken.
“Enough of this feelings stuff,” Banks says. “Do you guys have a date set?”
We all take a sip of our beers, and I zone out again as Ridge tells us Darcy really wants an early October wedding, which means they either have to get married in four months or sixteen months, neither of which is ideal. And the clock is ticking.
After that, all I can think about is how I don’t want to be here. I don’t mean hanging with the guys—I love my guy time. But, as in, I wish I hadn’t canceled on Lyric and used this to do it. Because I feel bad—really bad—about the lying part.
Of course, I’m sure she doesn’t even care. She’s just not that kind of woman.