Chapter 3 - Deacon #2
Bailey laughs out loud. “See? She’s trying to bring you out of your shell, D.”
“Not my type either,” I tell Bailey.
She digs in her tote bag and pulls out a ball covered in cling wrap. “I brought this for Evan.”
I take the cheese ball from her. “Thanks. He lives off these when we have one.”
“Bullshit,” Malcolm says.
Bailey shoots him a glare. “Just because you have texture issues doesn’t mean everyone does.”
“I have pineapple and onion issues.”
“Green onions,” she says.
“Do you like those?” Malcolm asks me, pointing at the cheeseball.
I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “I think she means my texture issues.”
“It’s a vintage recipe. You guys were raised on buckwheat pancakes and kale smoothies, and it shows.”
Their easy banter continues as I distribute the rest of the leftovers between them.
Bailey gets more, but she’s single, so I don’t feel bad about it.
Also, she brought the cheeseball. Malcolm doesn’t complain.
He’s always been really nice to me. I doubt he would be if he knew the kind of thoughts I used to have about his boyfriend.
Despite my impulsivity issues, I’ve managed to keep all those thoughts to myself.
“I need to wrap this up.” I have to get into the shower soon if I want to be on time for this date. “I have plans tonight.”
“What kind of plans?” Bailey asks.
I shake my head and ignore the question. “Did you get enough food?”
She gives my arm a performative pat. “Yes. Thank you. And I hope whatever you’ve got going on is fun.”
I nod as my nerves kick in.
While they gather their things to leave, Malcolm offers to carry Bailey’s tote bag, but she assures him she’s capable of carrying it herself.
He rolls his eyes for my benefit and thanks me again for the food. “We should do a dinner soon,” he says.
“I’m planning to go to the farmer’s market next weekend. So maybe next Saturday? Here?” I offer. Because I need to make plans for next weekend, too, if this whole life change is going to have a chance of working out.
“Ryan and I are out of town next weekend, but we could do the one after. Bails?”
“Will Millie be here?” she asks.
“Bailey,” Malcolm says. His tone makes her frown at him.
“Fine. Yes, I’m always free. Just warn me if she’s coming, and I’ll put extra tequila in the margaritas.”
“She probably will be,” I tell her. Millie can smell when people are here, I swear.
I walk them to the door and make sure Apollo is on his bed so he doesn’t get out again. He’s sound asleep. Once they’re gone, I go back to the freezer and reorganize what’s left.
It’s only a minute later when I hear the door open and close again.
“Cleaning out the fridge?” Evan asks.
I grunt a yes and stand up straight. When I turn to face him, he’s grabbing Apollo’s leash from the hook on the wall.
“I already walked him,” I say.
“You did?”
“Yeah. It looked like it was gonna rain.”
“Thank you.”
Evan seems like he might want to say something else, but he doesn’t.
I point at the kitchen island. “Want some of this cheeseball before I put it up?”
He grins easily and walks into the kitchen. “Yes, please.”
I open a cabinet and prepare Evan a dish with a hunk of the cheeseball and some Wheat Thins. “Thirsty?”
He holds up his water bottle. “I’m good.”
I hand him the plate, and he takes it.
“Plans tonight?” he asks.
“Uh…yeah.” I clear my throat. “You?”
His averts his eyes. “Maybe. Will you be around at all this weekend?”
He’s never asked me about my weekend plans before. “Why?”
He jerks slightly like I shouted the question. Then he seems to recover. “I thought maybe if you had some free time, we could try out this new place I saw on Steiner. It’s Lebanese, and they’re supposed to have the best baba ganouj in the city.”
I make the slight mistake of making eye contact with him. I don’t usually do that because he has beautiful eyes. Bright blue and heavily lashed. They’re sort of mesmerizing.
“For like—lunch or something?” he asks, when I get a little stuck. “Sunday?”
“Just you and me?”
He takes a shaky breath. Is he upset? “Me, you, Apollo…Millie…whoever you want.”
“Oh, I…you just never…I’m not sure.”
His laugh is short and unnatural. “What are you not sure about?”
“Sunday.” I mean, I don’t have any plans for Sunday as of now, but something about the way he’s acting is making me uneasy. Like bad news is coming.
“It doesn’t have to be Sunday,” he says.
I frown, trying to puzzle out where he’s going with this.
It almost feels like he’s asking me out, but that can’t be right.
He’s never done that before. I must take too long to answer because he waves his hand between us and says, “Forget it. I’ll see if Sam wants to try it with me. I hope you have a great weekend.”
Oh. Sam is his friend. He just meant having dinner together as friends.
Now I feel like a jerk. I wish I could articulate everything that’s wrong with me in a way he could understand so we wouldn’t have to have awkward moments like this, but I can’t even articulate it to my therapist. I swear Evan and I wind up like this a few times a month with me totally misunderstanding something and him giving up on my awkward ass.
“I have plans tonight,” I say, circling back to where we started. “But I might be around on Sunday. I probably will be.”
“Yeah?” Evan looks surprised, which I guess is fair because I’m usually gone all weekend.
“Yeah, so maybe.”
“I’ll take maybe.” He scans the kitchen. “I’m assuming you don’t want any help in here?”
“No, I’ve got it.” The kitchen is kind of my space. Evan might have had his way with the living room, more or less forcing me to sell half my gym equipment so he could have a functional sitting area, but other than washing his dishes, he leaves the kitchen to me.
Lifting his cheese plate and water bottle in a show of thanks, he says, “All right. Well, have a great night.”
Before he’s fully gone, I try to make a better effort at communicating with him. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Just working on the software,” he says.
Working for the same tech company means Evan and I have this one thing in common—a love of computers and programming, so I know the story of his entrepreneurial journey from the beginning.
I’m the superior programmer between us, and I’ve given him a few assists along the way, but he’s learning a lot and getting better at troubleshooting the software on his own.
I miss helping him, though. We work well together.
If his boss ever does promote him, I hope he winds up on my team.
“How’s that going?” I ask.
“It’s coming along. I’ll show it to you sometime, and you can tell me what you think.”
“Sure,” I say. “Maybe Sunday.”
“Maybe Sunday,” he repeats.
“What happened to your lip?” I ask.
“Oh.” He blushes as his free hand flies up to cover the swollen spot on his mouth. “Sharp fork.”
A fork did that? I don’t press him about it. He already seems embarrassed. “Okay.”
“Anyway, see you later.” He heads to his room, snapping his fingers for Apollo to follow him. The enormous Harlequin Great Dane stares at him a moment, and his eyes seem to ask, “Who? Me?”
“Come on, big guy.” Evan pats his leg. Reluctantly, Apollo drags his lazy ass up and mopes over on his lanky legs to follow him. I suspect the cheeseball is the main reason.