3. Ridley
THREE
RIDLEY
Flipping through channels looking for something to watch should be a hell of a lot easier than this, even at two in the morning. We have a shit ton of streaming channels and still there’s nothing good on.
Stupid insomnia. I’ve been battling this off and on for a decade now, and no amount of melatonin is fixing it.
I’m not down for prescription drugs to treat this, so here I sit, scrolling through alien invasion movies in the middle of the night, waiting for edibles to kick in, but even those have lost their effectiveness for me most nights.
The stairs creak and I look over my shoulder to see none other than the ginger of my dreams entering the room. He has a sheepish smile on his face as he tugs on the hem of his white t-shirt. He’s wearing his hot pink basketball shorts, and his hair is a mess.
“Hey, Rid. Thought I’d come down and watch TV. Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all, man.” I pat the couch cushion. “I was deciding which B movie I planned to watch this fine evening.”
Wren chuckles, joining me on the sofa. “What’s your favorite genre?”
I shrug. “I’ll pretty much watch anything, but I do have a soft spot for zombies and alien invasions.”
“Yeah? I love zombie movies. I wanted to go see Z World when it came out, but Trent doesn’t like horror.”
“That’s too bad. I thought it was a good movie. I was still in Chicago when it came out. Saw it with friends.” I grin. “Want to watch it now? I bet it’s streaming.”
His face lights up. “Yeah, I’m down.”
Using the search feature, I type in the title, finding it on the first hit.
“Would it be weird to get snacks?” Wren asks.
“Not at all. We have chips and popcorn, I think.”
“Oh, I was thinking fried egg sandwiches.”
“Hell yeah.”
We get up and walk to the kitchen together. Wren seems to be studying me more than usual, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
I sit at the island while he does his thing, grabbing eggs, cheese, bacon, and mayo from the fridge.
“Can I do something?”
“I got it. Unless you want to make us a drink.”
“I can do that.”
Hopping off the barstool, I open the fridge, scanning for drink options until my eyes land on the six-pack of ginger beer. “Moscow mule? We have vodka.”
“Works for me.”
I get busy mixing two cocktails while Wren flips eggs at the stove. It’s not the first time we’ve worked together in the kitchen, but this feels a little different, like he’s making an effort to connect with me. Even if it’s just as friends, that’s pretty cool.
I grab plates while Wren finishes his masterpiece. Even a simple egg sandwich is next-level when Wren makes it. He makes some kind of mayo sauce to smear on the bread, and it’s addictive.
We take our food and drinks back to the living room and settle in for the movie. After a few bites, Wren wipes his mouth and grins at me.
“Can I just say it’s wicked cool to have a friend to watch this kind of stuff with. Trent used to say there was something wrong with me that I can eat while someone is dying on screen. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me because there’s nothing wrong with you.”
Man, Trent really did a number on this guy. “I’m sorry you had such an unsupportive guy.”
He shrugs, licking sauce off his finger. “Don’t be. It went on too long, but that’s on me. I had a lot of reasons for staying that don’t make any fucking sense now, but they did at the time.”
“I get it.”
“Do you? You don’t seem like the kind of guy who would stick around for a bad relationship.”
“Honestly, probably not, but that’s the thing: If you don’t get into relationships, you can’t have a bad one, but you can’t have a good one either.”
“Wise words.”
We both look at the TV as a creepy hand wriggles out of some dirt. I sense Wren wants to talk so I pause the movie.
“My whole adult life, I’ve gone from one guy to the next,” Wren says.
“It was like I was afraid to be alone, but that wasn’t really it.
I thought that was what you do. Someone asks you out, and there’s chemistry, so you go.
And you keep going until it’s not working anymore.
How do you not end up in a relationship? ”
“If you’re me, you keep it casual. No actual dates or romance, just…” I shrug.
“Sex?”
I nod, focusing on my sandwich. “I sound so slutty, huh?”
“I’m envious.”
I look up.
“I’ve never even had a one-night stand. I stayed with my first boyfriend for almost two years, and it’s been like that ever since. This is the first time I’ve been single for longer than a couple of weeks.”
“How does it feel?”
“Uncomfortable.” He huffs a laugh. “I guess it’s like wearing clothes you’ve never tried on before. They look nice and you want them, but you’re not used to them yet.”
“That’s a good analogy. You’re happy that you left him, right?”
“Oh fuck yeah. Every decision I’ve made since applying for the position at Moby’s has been solid. Eventually, I’ll find my way.”
“Yeah, course you will.”
Wren searches my eyes, a soft smile on his lips, and I’d swear he wants to ask me something, but after a few lingering seconds, he glances at the TV.
“Zombies?”
I nod, smiling. “Let’s do it.”
We finish our sandwiches while we watch humans get their guts torn out, and as a comfortable silence settles between us, a smile pulls at my lips. Maybe being friends with him, real friends, would be even better than drive-by sex. Wren is a nice guy and he deserves a friend, which is what I’ll be.
My phone buzzes in my pocket with another notification from the app I signed up for last week.
I finish delivering food to the table I’m at, then pop behind the bar to pull it out and look at it.
Salem told me he saw positive reviews about this app, more quality guys, so I downloaded it, but so far it’s just been the same young twinks and cubs I’ve seen on all the other apps.
I swipe to open the app, pausing on the face smiling back at me. This guy is in his late thirties, which is already a decade older than most of the guys who match with me, and he has really nice blue eyes, brown hair, and a pretty mouth.
I read over his profile, waiting for that ping of excitement that lights me up and gets me motivated to meet someone, but it doesn’t happen. This guy sounds about as exciting at a presentation on the chemical compounds in hair gel.
“Hey, man.” Bane appears in front of me, leaning over the bar. “You look like you need to take a shit. You’re scaring the customers.”
I laugh, handing Bane my phone. “Taking a dump would be more exciting than my dating options these days.”
Bane reads over the profile, tilting his head back and forth before handing the phone back to me. “Doesn’t seem like your type.”
“I expanded the age range I was open to, but it didn’t help. Is it me or is the scene just dull?”
“For your consideration, maybe you’re hung up on someone.”
Rolling my eyes, I reply, “No. I’ve decided Wren is firmly in the friend zone. We’ve been hanging out a few nights when neither of us can sleep, and he needs that.”
Bane nods, twisting his lips, so I make a “get on with it” gesture.
“Okay, well just because you want him in the friend zone doesn’t mean your feelings have changed. I think it’s totally cool that you’re so respectful of where he’s at and everything, all I’m saying is it could be why finding someone else is harder than it should be.”
His words sting with truth. “What do I do about it?”
Bane chuckles. “How would I fucking know? I’m the poster child of unrequ—” He stops abruptly when Jerryn walks by, smiling and waving on his way to the kitchen. “Yeah.”
I grab his hand, squeezing it. “I wondered if there was more there, or if you…” I shrug, pausing when I see his face fall.
“He’s my best friend,” Bane explains, his eyes clouding over. “He doesn’t feel that way about me. If he did, I’d know by now. It’s been almost twenty years. I know what I’m talking about.”
“Have you ever told him?”
Bane subtly shakes his head. “And I never will. I have everything I want. I have a life with him. It’s not everything, but it’s enough.”
I hear the sadness and resignation in his voice, but I won’t push it. He’s a grown man and can make his own choices.
“That’s my advice, man,” Bane continues. “Decide if friendship is enough or if the potential romance is worth telling him what’s up.”
“I’ve already decided.” I nod, glancing back at the guy on my phone. “I gotta try harder is all. I’ll find someone.”
“You will.”
“Good talk.”
Bane laughs. “Yeah, yeah.”
He walks off and I linger for a few seconds, swiping through the rest of my notifications. If I’ve truly decided that Wren and I are gonna be nothing more than friends, then I should go all in on finding other options. I should go to New Onyx more and take chances on the dating apps.
I should, but fuck, I don’t want to at all. Maybe late-night snacks and zombie movies are enough for now.
Maybe they have to be.