25 #2
He seemed tense, anxiously running his fingers through his hair as I tore through the paper and hinged open the small gray box. Inside was a pair of tear-shaped red gems on gold posts.
“Earrings?” I asked, emotion evident in my voice.
“I should tell you—I didn’t buy them or anything. They’re old. They were my grandma’s, and then they were my mom’s, but she doesn’t have a daughter, obviously, so she just gave them to me and told me I should give them to someone I care about.”
He must have seen something change in my expression then, because he jumped to add, “I—I figure my best friend qualifies.”
“Andy, I don’t know what to say.” I cradled the box in my palm, tracing the velvet exterior with my fingertip.
“Is that okay?” he asked.
“I didn’t get you anything for your graduation last year.”
“Sure you did. You used my extra ticket when Owen didn’t show up, and you made conversation with my mom all day—that’s a gift money can’t buy. And you cheered embarrassingly loud,” he said as he bumped my shoulder, “so now I get to embarrass you a little.”
I slapped his arm. “Well, you’ve succeeded. This is way too nice, I don’t think I can take these.”
“Yes, you can,” he said. And that was that.
I stood and rushed back to my mirror to try them on. I could feel tears welling at the corners of my eyes. “I really love them. I’ve never had anything like this. Thank you.”
Then I ran back across the room, tackling Andy backwards onto the mattress and squeezing him tight. He laughed as he hugged me back, until he felt the wetness of my tears on his neck.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he said, pushing me back just far enough to swipe the apple of my cheek with his thumb. “I’m never going to give you a gift again if you can’t keep it together.”
I tried to laugh but the tears kept falling.
“And hey, this is a secret, remember?” he whispered, catching another tear as it fell. “You can’t go out there crying and give me away to Lia.”
“You’re right, you’re right” I said, finally standing up and drying my face. “I just really love them. Thank you.”
That whole night, it felt like we were sharing a secret. When I looked up and caught him smiling at me across the dancefloor, or when I squeezed his hand as he walked past. It almost felt like the start of something more.
But a week later, Andy had a new girlfriend—a girlfriend who wasn’t me—and that was the death of my fledgling hope.
Yet even so, a little part of me has always wondered why.
Why bother with such a thoughtful gift, if it really meant nothing?
After everything that’s happened between us in the last month, I’d kind of hoped I’d finally get an answer, but Andy’s still looking confused from across the table as he says, “I gave them to you the night of senior formal, remember?”
“Yeah, no, yeah, I remember. But I mean… they’re really nice,” I push. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” he shrugs. “I wanted to.”
The server drops our check on the table and it pulls Andy’s attention away. I feel like I’m deflating, so disappointed in his non-answer. I’m certainly not going to ask him to put a label on our relationship now.
Just as Andy places his card in the check envelope, a voice calls from his left, “No way! Andy?”
We look up to find Owen approaching from across the room.
Andy’s eyes flash to me, slightly panicked. I offer my calmest smile and try to wordlessly communicate, This is fine. I like Owen, remember?
“Hey, man. What are the odds we would both be across the river tonight?”
“Hey, Owen,” he replies, trying not to visibly grimace.
And the surprises aren’t over.
“You’re not going to believe it,” Owen says as he pulls a tiny blonde woman into his side. “This is my brother.”
“Meeting the family already?” she replies. “You must be really into me, huh?”
She’s absolutely lovely in a short silver dress, and has the dewy youthfulness of someone far below Owen’s years. They paint quite the picture: her delicate frame next to Owen’s bulky build, tailored suit, and beard.
“I’ll show you what I’m into,” Owen says as he grabs her jaw and pulls her into a messy kiss right there in the middle of the restaurant. Andy and I scream volumes through our eyes.
After several uncomfortable beats, Andy clears his throat. “Anyway, we’re just paying the check, but have a good night.”
“What’s with the rush to get rid of me?” Owen asks, taking a seat on the bench next to Andy and pulling the tiny blonde onto his lap. “Wait, you two aren’t on a date or something are you?”
“Owen,” he deadpans.
“Babe, you’re so mean,” the blonde says from Owen’s lap. “Stop teasing your brother.”
“I’m just kidding around. He can take it. Sophie, great to see you as always.”
“You too, Owen.” I offer the warmest smile I can muster, then extend a hand towards his date. “And hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Sophie.”
“Bella. Oh my god, you’re so cute.” She places her hand atop mine, more like I’m going to kiss it than shake it.
“Um… you too?” I give our weirdly joined hands a shake.
“What are you doing here?” Andy asks with increasing annoyance.
“I, little brother, am on a date.” Owen turns to Bella and bites her lip in another grotesque kiss. Then he adds, with the slightly condescending tone of someone bestowing much-needed advice, “I think the two of you might be the only platonic pair here. It’s kind of a romantic spot, you know.”
“Aw, you’re really not together?” Bella whines. “That’s so sad.”
I catch Andy’s eye across the table and attempt a new round of telepathy: You can tell them about us, if you want to!
(And I really hope he does, if only because I, too, might gain some clarity from the explanation.)
Andy says nothing.
“Don’t worry about them, princess,” Owen says, eliciting a horny giggle from Bella. “Why don’t you head to our table and I’ll be right there.”
Bella stands from Owen’s lap with a flirty look. He winks and taps her ass—(barf)—sending her on her way.
Once she’s gone, Owen’s body language immediately takes one step back towards normal. “Anyway,” he says, “it really is fun to run into you guys. You should come by my place sometime. There’s lots of great bars and restaurants by me if you’re into this kind of scene.”
“That would be nice,” I manage. “Thanks.”
Andy, still, says nothing.
The silence stretches. Owen looks from Andy to me to Andy again. I watch Andy for any sign that he wants to tell Owen the truth about us. Andy stares blankly at his hands.
“Alright, well.” Owen finally stands to go, clasping one big palm on his brother’s shoulder, “I won’t crash your night. Have fun, kids.”
But before walking away, he bends to whisper something in Andy’s ear. It’s hard to hear with the noise of the restaurant around us, but it sounds something like, “Make your move, man. I’m rooting for you.”
It would be a short walk to the nearest T stop, but the night is young and the air is unseasonably warm, so we decide to walk along the river instead—hand-in-hand, lost in our own thoughts.
Mine go a little something like this:
Why didn’t Andy correct Owen about the dating jokes?
Did he not want Owen to know? Or did he think I don’t want Owen to know?
Or is there nothing to know? It certainly feels like there is something to know, even if it’s just a friends-with-benefits situation.
That’s a significant update! And also… we went on a date!
And tonight was a date too, right? Is it still considered friends-with-benefits if you also go on dates?
I’ve never done this before, so I’m admittedly fuzzy on the rules.
Maybe Andy doesn’t want to tell people until I figure out my grad school situation.
My interview is tomorrow, so we’re kind of in the home stretch.