Chapter Twenty One
Ryder
I couldn’t believe my sister. I couldn’t fucking believe her. Only ten minutes earlier, she had stormed into my perfect little slice of heaven, just as I was about to have some morning shower sex with my boyfriend, and fucking destroyed it. In ten minutes. Less!
I stared at my closed front door, the slam of Finn’s exit echoing in my mind long after silence had settled in the room. Lena’s eyes burned into me, but she didn’t move. She didn’t even breathe.
“Ry, look, I’m sorry. That was so fucking stupid of me. I just—”
“Get the fuck out.” I stared at the door, willing Finn to walk back through.
“Ryder, please. C’mon,” she whined. “Don’t be nasty to me right now!”
I snapped my head to face her. “Don’t c’mon me! Do you have any idea what you just did?” I shook my head. “You know what? It doesn’t fucking matter. Just get the fuck out of my apartment.”
She folded her arms in protest like she did when she was five. “Just stop, okay? I fucked up, and I’m sorry. But how was I supposed to know you never told him any of that?”
I loved my sister. I’d give my life for her, or at least vital internal organs if she ever needed them, but my vision blurred as I tried to restrain myself.
“I was going to tell him, GENTLY, before we told anyone else, but you fucking…” I took a breath and forced my eyes closed. “Just leave. Please.”
Her protest turned into a pout. “No. I’m not going anywhere. You should go get him, and we can explain everything. Gently.” Her sarcasm blurred my vision worse.
I flipped her off and stormed into my room to get my phone out of the jeans from the night before.
“You’re being a baby,” Lena said when I walked out, grabbing my keys and wallet.
I flipped her off again, then left, slamming the door as Finn had.
Some part of me thought he’d be there waiting. He wasn’t on the stairs, or in the vestibule, or under the entry awning to my building.
“Finn!” I called out into the parking lot. “Finn! Can we please just talk?”
I felt stupider than I looked. Once I was in my car, I told it to call Finn. It rang until it reached his voicemail. I tried again, sure I’d get the same result, but Finn hit the fuck you button on me. He didn’t want to talk, either right then, or ever again.
I couldn’t blame him. How could I have been so stupid? I knew, knew that my little brother’s best friend wasn’t a viable option. Take Finn the human out of the equation. Any dude that was Miles’s best friend never could’ve been my boyfriend. I was an idiot for thinking it could work.
But that’s the fucking thing, isn’t it? Miles’s best friend was Finn, and Finn wasn’t just some random dude. He was kind, and caring, and loyal, and so fucking hot it made my blood boil. I loved him with every ounce of myself. In every way I could.
The way his face kind of went blank when he’s figuring something out, or his broad, goofy smile right after he’s gotten it.
Or when he scrunches up if he thinks about something gross.
Or how he doesn’t want or need anything from me, unless we’re having sex.
Then his needs are insatiable. How he makes me feel at ease and alive all at once.
How I know, without the shadow of a doubt, that he’d stand by me through anything, just because that’s who he is, a good, honest man, with a heart of gold, and a cock of steel.
“Fucking godDAMN IT!” I cursed to myself.
How could I have hurt him like that? Finn had this golden retriever energy, so eager to please. Or a lost puppy, a little scared, but brave enough to figure it out. How the FUCK could I ever let anyone put a fucking frown on his face?
When he asked if I came onto him because I was into him, or to get back at Miles, I told him the truth.
It was both. But what I didn’t get the chance to explain was how much.
It was less Miles than Bree, but still them as a couple.
From the bottom of my heart, it was ninety-five percent into him, five percent pissing Miles and Bree off.
Ninety/ten at most. But it didn’t matter, because even if I did what I did because ninety-nine point nine percent of me was attracted to him, that vanishing other part still fucked it all up.
What mattered the least was that once it happened, once it was clear Finn wanted me just as much as I wanted him, it was one hundred percent. I couldn’t give a flying fuck what Miles or Bree thought. All I cared about was him. From that first kiss, that first instant, I was all in, all the way.
That was no way to start a relationship.
It wasn’t a lie. I was very fucking attracted to him.
But it wasn’t the whole truth either. I should’ve stopped it that first night.
Shot him down the second if I couldn’t, or blocked him when I got home at minimum.
No. At a minimum, I should’ve fucking told him.
But at a certain point, as we slipped past fuck buddies and into something real, how it began changed.
I was always going to tell him. Always. When I realized telling him would affect so much, like his relationship with my brother, and his willingness to stand up for him at the wedding, I knew I needed to wait.
“FUCK me, man!” I yelled at the highway stretching out in front of me.
I was so pissed at myself, but also at my family. I knew, or feared, that he thought it was much worse than it was. The five of us laughing at him, making jokes, nitpicking every one of his behaviors and mannerisms like it was the hottest gossip we’d ever heard.
It was never like that. We never laughed at him.
He was never a joke. And no one ever called him gay or wondered if he was.
Just that he probably had a crush on me.
My mom used to say Finn looked up to me, and Lena would joke that he wanted to be my boyfriend.
My dad thought speculating about someone like that was rude, and Miles would point out that it meant nothing, since Finn was just being respectful because he was polite.
Fourteen-year-old Miles was pissy about it, but later he’d wish Finn would be his brother-in-law one day, regardless of which sibling he married.
But I got it. Finn was twenty-four and just starting to figure himself out.
If I found out that my friends were talking about me being gay before I was okay with it, I’d be so fucking pissed.
But it wasn’t just a group of guys; it was an entire family.
Full-grown adults whom he respected and loved like parents.
It was shitty of us, and he had every right to be offended.
Or, break up with me, which was probably what happened, and I was just too pig-headed to accept it.
I should’ve fucking told him sooner. I was going to.
There was no chance I’d let us come out to my family without telling him.
But how? How does somebody tell their partner, “Oh, by the way, we’ve all knew you had a boner for me for years and years.
So happy we were right ‘cause you’re awesome.
” No! No fucking way. Maybe I could’ve phrased it like, “Yeah, I think they had an idea you had a crush on me back then, but they’ll be shocked, and so happy, either way. ”
Whatever! I would’ve figured it out. And how to tell him about the revenge thing.
Which WASN’T a plot. It was a stupid joke Lena made when I told her Miles kicked me out of the best man spot since my identity might jeopardize Bree’s sponsor deals, before saying it was a blessing since I was so busy. Give me a fucking break.
Bree just didn’t want a masculine gay doctor giving a speech at her wedding.
Because if her shitty trad-brained followers found out, she’d be in the position of either publicly denouncing me, which would look bad to Miles and my family, or defending me, which would cause her to lose influence.
And, yeah, maybe some brand deals too. I didn’t realize that meant being removed from the whole fucking wedding party.
Whatever. Fuck her. With a flaming pineapple.
At least I knew how to tell him about that part.
I just couldn’t find the scrotal fortitude to do it.
Not before the wedding. I didn’t want to ruin his relationship with my brother.
Or ruin my brother’s wedding. Finn would one hundred percent back out if he knew. No, it was better to tell him after.
Though it would’ve been so fucking sweet to go through with my sister’s idea.
That’s why I loved her so much. She said I should whisper in Bree’s ear, as soon as she got to the church, that I fucked Finn.
Let her walk down the aisle, too late to do anything about it, knowing that either way the man standing next to her betrothed liked dick.
GOD, the look on her face would’ve almost been worth it. Almost. I never would’ve done that. Obviously. And once I realized what Finn and I had was real, thinking about it made me feel like shit. At least her reaction when we told them after their honeymoon would’ve been just as good.
Doesn’t fucking matter, does it? She won. I was out of the wedding party, and Finn and I were probably over.
“FUCK! FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!” I screamed at my windshield.
I had been driving for hours, only realizing when I saw signs for the tunnel to New York City. I had driven across states, and I never even put on a podcast.
I parked in the first garage I found, my eyes bulging at the price tag for the day.
I called Finn as soon as I was on the street.
It went right to voicemail. Either his phone was dead, or he blocked me.
Fucking great. Mine was about to die, too.
I hadn’t charged it the night before, and didn’t even think of it while driving.
Fuck it. I was out of the party, and didn’t need to go to the rehearsal dinner.
Of course, the early September weather was perfect. Not that it fucking mattered. What the fuck was I even doing there? Walking around… Midtown? Doing what? Feeling sorry for myself? Confused? Sad? Sorrowful? Angry? At everyone and everything in my life?
Fuck, man, I felt like shit, and walked for who knows how long.
Until the buildings shrank, and I passed a small cafe with a large rainbow flag in the window.
My stomach growled at the menu. My whole life was in flames, my deepest relationships on the pyre, but that didn’t stop my physical need for calories.
The place was weird, but people would call it quaint, and they charged twenty dollars for a sandwich. I ate my chicken salad wrap in silence. Alone. I had friends who lived there, but it was a Friday afternoon, and they would be at work.
Did I even want to see people? No, not really.
Not my friends, anyway. They were great dudes, but how could they understand what I was going through?
They’d say fuck Miles and Bree and tell me to apologize to Finn.
That it wasn't a big deal. Who cares how a relationship started, as long as it was good, right? And the talking about him thing? Well, he did like dudes, didn’t he? So, really, it was no big fucking deal.
Ugh. Not what I fucking needed or wanted. But I did need to get my mind off of it. Glaring at my overpriced wrap wasn’t helping. The only three people I’d want to talk to about this shit with, Lena, Miles, or Finn, were the only three people in the world I couldn’t.
A gay couple, a little younger than me, came in, ordered, and sat right next to me.
They were dressed like extras on a late-nineties sitcom, and were really into each other.
I didn’t know if it was love or if they were about to head somewhere and fuck each other’s brains out.
I didn’t care either. At least I wasn’t bitter. That was a plus.
They reminded me of someone. No. Of some place.
The VIP section at LIV a few months ago. Yes. Yup. Both of them would’ve fit right in with that group. They had that artist-adjacent vibe. Like their parents could be worth billions, or they were close to being homeless.
Fuck! Rickie, the woman I had briefly, drunkenly, considered having a three-way with, lived in New York with her “situation-ship” Kris.
She had found, then followed me, the morning after I met her.
I wasn’t huge on social media, but I enjoyed watching them frolic around the city from time to time when I had a moment to be on my phone at the hospital.
I could DM her, see if she was around? My memories of that night were fuzzy at best, but I remembered her saying she did that kind of stuff with friends. Something about grabbing coffee, not drinks. I chuckled at the memory. She was the exact kind of person to help me take my mind off everything.
The five percent battery I had left had fallen to three thanks to Lena’s incessant calls and texts. I ignored them and DM’d Rickie.
“Hey! Remember me? We met at LIV in Miami a few months ago. I’m in New York, and was just wondering if you wanted to meet up. No worries if not! Just figured I’d reach out. Thanks!”
That was awkward. And stupid. What the fuck was I thinking?
“OH MY GOD, RYDER! The hot gay doctor from Miami!!! Of COURSE I remember you!!” I wasn’t sure if she’d reply at all, much less ten seconds later. My palm opened around my phone as I stared at it.
She followed her first message with, “We would LOVE to see you! How long will you be in the city? Are you free tonight? We’re doing a drag happy hour in Alphabet City. Would you wanna meet us? We know one of the queens, so we’re going early, at like four. I think you’ll love her!”
I didn’t know what to say other than, “Yeah! Awesome! Thanks! Where is it?”