29. Malcolm
MALCOLM
“ Y ou need to chill the fuck out, dude.”
Either I’m not understanding something, or Bailey is fucking blind . It took me exactly five minutes after watching Ryan walk off with Norah Butler to put together that she’s the woman in Seattle waiting for him to wrap up this internship and return to the Pacific Northwest.
I can’t fucking believe how beautiful she is.
I mean—I can—Ryan’s hot as hell, but I don’t know why I pictured her being some mousy finance nerd.
Maybe because he hasn’t exactly been falling all over himself to text her or call her—there’s no pictures of her anywhere.
I thought she was a back-up plan—not a fucking goddess .
I should have pressed for more information. I should have asked him point bank if he was still planning to move to Seattle. I shouldn’t have assumed anything .
“I don’t think I can do this,” I say bluntly.
“Do what?” Bailey asks.
“If you could see inside me right now, you’d run screaming.”
“Why? What’s inside you?”
Depression. Insanity. Jealousy. Insecurity. Doubt. Fear. No— it’s not fear. It’s abject fucking terror that I am way too late and not nearly enough. “Do you think he’s straight?”
“Ryan?” she asks.
“Yes,” I hiss at her.
“I think he’s bi.”
“What does that even mean? Is that really a thing?”
She laughs, a loud barking laugh. “Yes, Malcolm. Bisexuality is a thing. Did you or did you not just break up with a woman?”
“But I’m gay .”
She frowns. “So what was that girlfriend of yours? You’re gonna tell me you were never attracted to her? You never had sex?”
Kaylin is a sore spot today. Breaking up with her had been awful.
She was understanding when I told her about Ryan, but she did cry, which made me cry, and we spent half the evening holding hands and remembering the good times.
It was fucking awful. She never said as much, she’s too nice, but I feel exactly like I wasted ten years of her life.
“I was confused,” I say to Bailey. “That doesn’t make me bi.”
“Well, I’m gay, and you’d have to pay me a lot of money to have sex with a man.”
“Maybe it’s different for guys.”
“I think it’s just you if we’re being honest.”
“What about him though?” I ask, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder at the door where Ryan recently walked out.
“I haven’t put much thought into it. Sorry.”
“Well, put some thought into it unless you want me to start crying.”
Her eyes widen. “What difference does it make how he identifies if you guys are into each other?”
“Did you not see the way they were touching?”
“I mean…” she shrugs and looks down at her menu like she knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Look, I’m not the best pe rson to ask about bisexual people.
I get that people can be attracted to a lot of different types, but I find there’s usually a clear preference when it comes down to it. But my experience is limited.”
“Sounds like you’ve had bad experiences.”
“A lot of girls want to experiment in college. It’s fun until it isn’t, you know? Anyway, stereotypes happen for a reason, which isn’t to say it’s not a valid identity, it’s just… I’ve had bad experiences.”
“Like girls would hook up with you but end up getting serious about a guy?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“I think if I were bi, I would have broken up with Kaylin a while back.”
“What makes you say that?” she asks.
“Because I’m not all that attracted to her. It’s more like I got used to her.”
“But at some point, you were attracted to her.”
Do I really want to tell Bailey what led me to pursue Kaylin in the first place? If Ryan hadn’t been interested in her, would I have found some other random girl to wave around in front of him to prove I wasn’t what I was too afraid to admit I actually am?
I don’t think so. She was—God forgive me— convenient .
Christ, I fucking hate myself.
Because he did like her. He might have accidentally confessed feelings for me, but if that hadn’t happened, he probably would have gone on to date Kaylin himself and live a perfectly straight life.
That’s what he’s been doing after all, isn’t it?
Until I started shamelessly throwing myself at him?
“There’s no guy you could possibly be attracted to? ” I ask Bailey.
She squints at me like she’s thinking really, really hard. “ Maybe like…” then she wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “I can’t with penises. Sorry.”
“None taken,” I say, and she laughs.
“Malcolm. Get it together. He’s crazy about you. It’s blatantly obvious.”
“What if he doesn’t want to be? What if he’d rather be crazy about her?”
“Now you’re projecting.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, because that sounds like exactly what you did. You didn’t want to admit you wanted to kiss your stepbrother, and then you found a girl you could tolerate and took your angst out on her.
You just happened to like her in the meantime and stuck with it.
Maybe you convinced yourself you could keep lying to yourself forever, but that’s not him. ”
“You barely know him,” I say, although she’s gotten quite the read on me .
“I know he’s not half as confused as you are.”
“I think you’re wrong about that,” I say with a fair degree of confidence. Ryan might not outwardly be as big of a mess as I am, but he’s decently fucked up over what’s happening with us. But enough to give up on it?
“I just mean he’s crazy about you. And very protective.”
Miguel said the same thing. “How do you know that?” I ask.
“Because he told me.”
“When?”
She sighs. “Are you okay? Are you going to survive the rest of the day and not spiral into a jealousy vortex?”
“Sure,” I tell her. Her tough love isn’t going down easy today, and besides, I know what I know, and I saw what I saw. Ryan and Norah looked like endgame, which makes me a fling.
And if that’s not the case—if it’s just my paranoia making that hug look like more than it was—the doubts I have about him and me are still baked in.
All his walls, his boundaries, his restraint—it can only mean one thing.
He doesn’t want me to get too close. Even the times I thought I was getting closer—breaking through—I might have only been wearing him down.
Forcing words from him he didn’t mean or wasn’t intending to say—all while trying to recreate that one moment I shit all over ten years ago and do things better this time.
But have I done better? Have I been clear enough about what he means to me? How important he is? Or have I been too busy trying to get into his pants to say what I’m feeling from the bottom of my heart?
Isla gives me a withering look when I return fifteen minutes late from lunch. I hesitate before sitting down because I just— can’t .
I can’t with this. With her. With this place.
Today sucks, but working with Isla has been a nightmare. I’ve known for a while this isn’t the job for me, and the idea of doing it for one second longer feels impossible. Especially today. Particularly now.
They say there’s no time like the present.
Instead of taking my seat or any shit she’s about to give me for taking a long lunch, I turn, walk down the hall to Georgie’s office, and knock.
“Come in,” they call out. When they see me, they grimace. “Can you make this quick? There’s a lot going on today.”
“I’ll make it super fast,” I assure them.
Georgie nods and gestures to the chair in front of the desk. “Go ahead.”
Without sitting, I put my ID badge on their desk, “Thanks so much for the opportunity, but I don’t think this is the place for me. I’m gonna go ahead and quit.”
“Oh.” I have their full attention now. “Do you need to talk about this? ”
I shake my head. I don’t. My mind is made up, and I already feel ten pounds lighter.
“Is it Isla?”
“It’s more me,” I say. “Isla didn’t help, but honestly, I’m not a good fit for this kind of work. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
Georgie takes off their glasses and leans back in their chair, regarding me carefully. “You all right?”
“I don’t know.”
They sigh, a softer look on their face, like they wish they had time to get into this with me now, but I picked a bad day. “Well, touch base with me on Monday. If you have a change of heart, let me know.”
“Will do.” I appreciate the offer, but this doesn’t feel like an impulse. Already I feel slightly more in control of my own destiny. “Thanks, Georgie,” I say, and then back out of the office. Without a word to Isla, I gather my things and leave Marks & Baker for good.
It’s not long before my phone starts blowing up.
Ryan
What the hell did I miss? What happened? Also are you coming over or not?
Ryan’s text feels aggressive, but I think that’s a me problem. I already feel like a bloody pulp, so anything less than someone tucking me in with the softest blanket would feel like too much.
Me
I quit. It’s not a big deal. And I can’t make it tonight.
Ryan
Bullshit. Do I need to come to you? We need to talk.
I hate those words. There aren’t words for how much I hate those words.
Me
If you want to talk, you can call me.
Ryan
Ffs
My phone rings.
“Hey.”
“What is this?” he asks.
I assume he means the fact that I’m in my apartment without him. “This is me taking a minute.”
“Why would you quit without saying anything to me first?” he asks.
“You were clearly busy, and it’s not like I never told you I hated the job.”
“You hate Isla ?—”
“No, Ryan. That’s not what I said.” I sigh, wishing Stephanie were curled up against me while I lie on the couch. Wishing he were. I also wish for different kinds of wishes. Like to be one of those people who thrives on being alone. “I told you it wasn’t for me.”
“You said you didn’t think it would be for you. That it might not be. You never said straight up you hated it and you were quitting,” he argues.
“Look, I’m not gonna argue semantics with you. Whatever I said—this is what I meant.”
“What the fuck are you gonna do now? ”
“Look for another job, I guess.”
“Mal…”