Chapter 17
Just Until After Christmas
Andrew
Ted and I are out to lunch... his idea.
I still haven't managed to end things with him since the camping trip, despite multiple attempts.
That trip was about two weeks ago, and I've tried three separate times to work up the courage to break it off. Every time, I chicken out. I've never been the one to end a relationship before. I'm always the one who gets dumped. This is uncharted territory, and I have no idea what I'm doing.
Is it okay to do this right before Christmas? Does Ted even celebrate Christmas?
I keep waiting for the "right" moment, but I'm starting to realize that moment isn't coming.
Ted has been talking at me nonstop for the entire hour we've been here. Not talking to me, at me. My mind drifts as I pick at my lunch, barely tuning in. Is this how my exes felt before breaking up with me? The thought is humbling.
I think back to my first boyfriend, Brian, the first friend I ever came out to in high school. I can still feel the way his long arms wrap around my back, his slightly sweaty basketball jersey pressing against my cheek. Brian was a lot of firsts for me.
I push the memory aside before it can get too vivid.
Meanwhile, Ted keeps going, uninterrupted.
"So, that was basically the entire weekend in a nutshell," Ted says, pausing to take a sip of his soda. "I might get a new wetsuit on Wednesday. Are you even listening to me?"
I blink, jolted out of my thoughts. "I am. You're getting a new wetsuit on Wednesday."
"You're not listening," Ted snaps, slamming his hand on the table hard enough to rattle my iced tea.
I flinch, gripping the edge of the table.
"Honestly, you're a really bad listener," he continues.
"I'm sorry," I say, trying to keep my voice even. "I did zone out for a second, but that doesn't mean I wasn't listening, Ted."
"I don't even know why I bother sharing anything with you," he says, crossing his arms. "You make me feel like everything I say is pointless."
That's dramatic, even for Ted. I roll my eyes before I can stop myself, and a faint smile tugs at my lips.
"Don't roll your eyes like that," he says sharply. "You know I hate it. Quit doing it."
The way he's looking at me, all puffed-up indignation, makes me want to roll my eyes again just to prove a point. Instead, I focus on the condensation dripping down my glass, watching it pool on the table.
Ted's like a toddler throwing a tantrum over a toy he doesn't even want.
All this drama over a wetsuit and a moment of distraction.
My fingers trace patterns in the water droplets, anything to avoid meeting his eyes.
I've seen this side of him before—this pouting, demanding child who needs constant validation—and it never fails to grate on my nerves.
Right now, it's all I can do not to push back from the table and walk out.
Lately, our age difference glares, obvious and unignorable. He's twenty-two, and I didn't think that would be an issue at first, but it's becoming clear how much it influences our communication. Or lack thereof.
"Well, I can't get a word in, Ted. Of course I zoned out. You always do this. You keep going on and on about yourself.”
My phone pings on the table next to my hand.
Vince: Hey, dimwit.
Vince: New park has been selected for tomorrow.
Vince: I'm changing it up, keeping you on your toes.
Vince: You never know what you'll get with me.
Andrew: You're pretty predictable, actually.
Vince: Cool.
My phone pings three more times, this time with photos of the park Vince has chosen for tomorrow's run, along with a pin drop like I need directions... despite him being the one driving the both of us there. Dork.
I silence my phone.
"Is that Vince?" Ted spits.
I clench my jaw, my patience already thinning. "What does it matter?"
"It matters because he's constantly texting my boyfriend. It's really starting to piss me off, Andrew."
I laugh dryly. "It's not constant. Stop being so dramatic, Ted. Most of the notifications are from the group chat Gary added me to. Everyone's always—"
"You ran with him this morning, you work with him all day, and then he calls you at the start of your lunch break to check in? Isn't being with you 24/7 enough for him, or does he need to text you when you're not together too?"
I sigh, annoyed. "He just wanted to tell me about a new park to run at tomorrow."
Ted isn't having it. "Was he at your campout?"
His question hits me like a sucker punch. I stay silent.
"Andrew."
I roll my eyes. "He has a girlfriend, Ted. Will you relax?"
Ted laughs bitterly, throwing his hands in the air. "That's a yes if I've ever heard one. I knew it. I knew he'd be there. I still can't believe you went, but now at least I know why you were so eager."
"What the hell are you talking about? I went to spend time with Gary and make friends. I didn’t even know Vince was going to be there."
Ted stares at me like he doesn't believe a word I'm saying.
I exhale sharply, frustration mounting. "I'm so tired of arguing with you, Ted. Can we just eat and enjoy our lunch?"
Ted's voice drops, deadly serious. "Are you fucking him behind my back?"
My fork clatters onto my plate, the noise much louder than I expect. I glance around, praying no one has overheard. "What?" I hiss.
"You heard me."
"Is that seriously something you think I'd do? What's wrong with you?"
His accusatory tone ignites a surge of anger in me. But beneath it, guilt festers. The truth is, if Vince wants me, I know I'd give in without hesitation. That shame, the fact that I know Ted isn't entirely wrong to suspect me, makes me even angrier.That’s why I need to do what I’m about to do.
I lean back in my chair, stabbing at my food with my fork.
"Ted, I'm done."
The words hang in the air between us, sharp and final, cutting through the restaurant's ambient chatter.
"What does that even mean?" His voice is low, dangerous, his eyes narrowing as he leans across the table.
"I'm done," I repeat, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. "I don't think we should see each other anymore."
But Ted isn't letting it go, his gaze drilling into me like he's trying to read the truth written on my soul. "You have feelings for him, don't you?"
Heat floods my cheeks, a telltale flush I can't control, betraying me before I can stop it.
"I'm confused," I admit quietly, the admission tasting like defeat on my tongue. "I think that's why this isn't going to work. That and about two dozen other reasons."
Ted's nostrils flare, the muscles in his jaw working as he fights for control.
I can see the effort it takes, the way his knuckles turn white where he grips the edge of the table.
The restaurant's ambient chatter fades into background noise as all my attention focuses on the storm brewing across from me.
"Don't do this, Andrew," he says, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with steel.
His eyes well up with tears, and I immediately feel a pang of guilt.
I didn't want to hurt him, especially not like this, in the middle of a crowded restaurant during lunch rush.
He wipes his cheek roughly with the back of his hand, crossing his arms in a defensive posture that makes him look younger than his twenty-two years.
"You're being so mean to me right now," he says, his voice cracking on the last word. "After everything, you're just... ending it? Just like that?"
I swallow, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. "Ted, I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."
"Then don't," he pleads, leaning forward. His voice drops to an urgent whisper. "Just... give me another chance. Please? I know I can be a lot sometimes, but I'll work on it. I'll change."
I shake my head slowly, my resolve weakening under his desperate gaze. "Ted, it's not just about you changing. Or Vince.It's... it's complicated."
"Then explain it to me," he presses, his eyes searching mine. "Explain what's so complicated that you have to throw away what we have."
I look away, focusing on the condensation rings my glass has left on the table. When I don't answer immediately, he reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against mine.
"Just one more chance," he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. "Christmas is coming. Let's get through the holidays together, and then... then if you still feel this way, we can talk. No pressure. Just... please, Andrew."
My heart sinks, a heavy weight in my chest. I want to say no, to stand up and walk away and finally be done with this, but his pleading eyes, the tears shimmering in them, pin me in place.
I think of the holidays, of being alone while everyone else is with someone, and a wave of cowardice washes over me.
"I..." I start, but the word dies in my throat. I can't do it. I can't be the bad guy. Not here, not now.
He sees my hesitation and squeezes my hand tighter, his touch a desperate anchor. "Please, Andrew. Just until after Christmas."
I look away, focusing on the salt shaker on the table, the crystals catching the light. My resolve crumbles, and I hear myself say the words I know I'll regret: "Okay, Ted."
The relief that washes over his face is immediate, his shoulders relaxing, a small smile touching his lips. "Thank you," he says, squeezing my hand. "I won't bring Vince up again. I'll let it go. You can figure things out, we'll be fine. You won't regret this, I promise."
But as I sit there, letting him hold my hand across the table, I already know that I will.