Chapter 21
AIDAN
Ican’t stop fidgeting. The straw wrapper sits in the middle of the table, torn into a hundred little pieces. I don’t even want the straw; I need something to keep my hands busy.
Silas is late.
Okay, it’s only two minutes, but it’s still late. And, since I got here twenty minutes early, it feels like I’ve been waiting forever.
“Whoa.” I look up to find Silas behind me, taking in the scene at our table. “That bad, huh?”
It only takes me a second to figure out what he’s looking at. The entire table is covered in napkin and straw wrapper confetti. I may have a lot in common with our students. The only difference is that I’ll clean up my mess.
“I’m stressed, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, taking the seat next to me, and waves the waitress over.
“I’ll take whatever IPA you’ve got on tap. What do you want?” He turns toward me.
“I’ll take another whiskey.”
“He’ll take an IPA,” Silas tells the waitress. I glare at him, willing him to put in the order I want instead of what he did. “Catch me up,” he says as soon as she’s out of earshot.
“You were right.” I hang my head between my hands, staring at the table.
“As much as I’m sure that’s true, you want to fill me in on which thing I was right about this time.”
“All of it. I’m in love with Covey, though I’m pretty sure that started a long time ago.
And in a little over four weeks, he’s going to break up with me—fake break up with me—and I’m already heartbroken.
” I woke up last week, wrapped in Covey’s arms. The man knows how to snuggle.
I’m not sure he let me go the entire night, which is not a complaint.
I would’ve stayed like that all day, but sadly, the alarm clock went off a minute later.
“And you what? Thought you’d get a head start on the post-heartbreak sulking?”
“Why put off until tomorrow, what you can do today?” I left his house quickly since he still had a few hours left of sleep.
He’s been working hard and deserves to sleep wherever he can.
Besides, I only gave myself enough time to manage my morning routine.
Since then, we’ve gone back to our regular text messages and occasional quick phone calls.
There’s been no repeat of our night together.
No mention of how we’re going to handle January, our conversation at the bar forgotten. At least by him.
I’m overexcited at the idea of possibly extending this. It’s not a good idea—I don’t need to ask Silas to know that—but I still want to. It would give me six more months to come up with a plan. Or seduce Covey. Or come up with a plan to seduce Covey.
“I’m not sure that applies to this situation.”
Our drinks arrive, and we spend a few minutes in silence, savoring our ales. I still wish mine was whiskey.
“Go ahead. Say I told you so.”
“Jesus, Aidan.” Silas rubs his hand over his face. “I’m not getting any joy out of this situation.”
“But you did. This is exactly what you said would happen. But no, I didn’t want to listen.” Judging by the looks we get, that last part might have been a bit loud.
“How many drinks did you have before I got here?”
“Two.” Probably.
“I’m going out on a limb here, but I’m guessing you haven’t mentioned your feelings to Covey?”
I shake my head.
“This might be a crazy idea, but you could talk to him. Like the mature adults you both pretend to be.”
“No way.” Now that’s a fun suggestion. Not only could I ruin our holiday arrangement, but I could also destroy our whole friendship.
I can see the entire thing now, me confessing my undying love to him, and Covey letting me down easy.
The awkwardness of the situation tearing us apart until we’re back to the occasional like on social media posts.
No way. At least in my version of this, I can be heartbroken, but still have Covey in my life. Some Covey is always better.
He holds his hands up like he’s afraid I’m going to throw something at him, which is fair. “Just checking to see how far down the rabbit hole we are exactly.”
“What am I going to do?” I gulp down at least half of my beer. It’s not whiskey, but it’ll do.
“What you always do,” Silas whispers. “You’re going to get over him.”
Given that seven years apart didn’t work, I doubt any of the usual things will either. Maybe if I move to a foreign country? Or take a vow of silence in a monastery? It might be a bit extreme, but I think it’ll take something extraordinary to get Covey out of my system.
COVEY
Buzzing pulls me from a strange dream. I tug at my sleep mask, trying to figure out where the noise is coming from.
It takes far too long for me to figure out that it’s my phone.
I swear I put my phone on do not disturb before I fell asleep.
I always do. It’s a lesson I learned early on.
When family and friends are in entirely different time zones, not doing so is a serious risk.
It took my mom a whole three years to figure out that with a six-hour time difference, she couldn’t call me after she ate dinner.
To break through my settings, someone has to call multiple times. My stomach twists in concern as I reach for my phone. As I do, the buzzing starts up again.
Aidan. Fuck, that can’t be good.
“Hello?”
“Covey!” He sounds way too exuberant for… okay, it’s ten-thirty. I’m no fun and go to bed ridiculously early if we don’t have a performance. “You should come over.”
“Where are you?” I ask, slightly concerned about what he might be up to.
He doesn’t seem like the wild party type, but what do I know?
We’re barely getting to know each other again.
It’s a Tuesday night, and I know for a fact he has school tomorrow.
Usually, when I check in, he’s home watching TV or grading, often a mixture of both.
“My house. Silas brought me home.” I guess I owe Silas for that. I’m still not sure I like the guy, but as long as he’s looking out for Covey’s interests, that scores him points in my book.
“Are you okay?”
“M’sad,” he says, his tone changing.
“Aidan—” I push the covers down, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
“No, Covey. You listen—”
I wait, waiting for whatever it is he’s going to say.
“Shit. M’gonna be sick.”
The phone seems completely abandoned, probably for the best. I wait five minutes… ten minutes, pacing back and forth through my bedroom, staring at the timer on my screen. I’m halfway to deciding to hang up and drive over to his house to make sure he’s okay when he makes it back to his phone.
“Covey?” He seems legitimately surprised to find me on the other end.
“You okay?” I’m still unsure what the right thing to do here is. If he’s drunk, which I’m pretty sure he is, then he needs water and sleep. He’s going to feel terrible tomorrow morning, but he’ll be okay.
The bigger problem is why he decided to get drunk in the first place.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He sounds the exact opposite of fine. “Just stupid.”
At least he sounds slightly less drunk than he did before, which is a bit of a relief. “Are you sure? Do you want me to come over?” I can be there in less than fifteen minutes. Ten if I speed a bit.
“I’m sure. I’m going to drink some water and go to bed.” I’m still not convinced.
“Do you want to tell me what happened tonight?”
There’s a long pause, and for a second, I think he might have abandoned his phone again. “No, it’s some things that I’m working through.”
“You know, I’m a pretty good listener if you want to talk about it.”
“That’s okay. I’m sorry I woke you up. And for anything I said.” Once again, I’m jealous of Silas getting to be the best friend, the one who Aidan opened up to about whatever it is he’s going through.
“You didn’t say anything.” It’s the truth. “But, Aidan, I’m worried about you. I could come spend the night, make sure you’re okay.” And that you don’t choke on your vomit.
“That’s not a good idea.” I start to argue with him, but he cuts me off. “I’m fine. I had one too many beers. I’ll have a headache in the morning, but otherwise we can call it a stupid mistake.”
I don’t have any other arguments. I’m tempted to show up on his front porch and demand to stay the night and watch over him.
But that’s a bit over the line, especially since he’s stopped slurring his speech and seems capable of handling the rest of the night on his own.
“Okay. Make sure you drink a lot of water and put some painkillers on your nightstand for the morning.”
“Thanks. Sorry, again.” The line goes dead before I can respond to him.
I wish I had Silas’s number, then I could call him to make sure things are okay. I know he’d never betray Aidan’s confidence and tell me anything, but at least he could tell me that Aidan is safe.
I get back under the covers and reset my alarm from eight to six-thirty, so I can call Aidan first thing in the morning and make sure he’s recovering all right.
Rolling over, I try to find a comfortable spot to fall back asleep.
It’s more challenging since Aidan slept here.
My body remembers what it felt like to wrap myself around him and hold him close all night long.
It keeps searching out that same feeling, the comfort and warmth, but not finding it in the empty sheets.