Chapter 11
eleven
. . .
Ceci
The walls of my office were closing in on me, so I went to my favorite bistro to work.
Strictly speaking, this isn’t a working coffee-shop type place, but when I give Jamie, my favorite server, a five-hundred-dollar tip and tell them to keep my water glass refilled, they’re more than happy to let me take up a table for a few hours.
Okay, so maybe it isn’t healthy that I can’t go anywhere without my laptop.
I can’t seem to stop working. That itch to push myself, to keep going, going, going, spirals me higher and higher.
Is it a problem if I’m enjoying what I’m doing?
It’s not like I have a partner to come home to.
All my friends are busy with their own lives.
Why shouldn’t I keep working as long as I enjoy it?
I’m meeting Wish here in a few hours. Half the reason I came here so fucking early was to try to scope out the scene. I want to be here first. I don’t want to walk into an unknown situation. A risky situation.
Until six thirty, though, I’m going to work. My stomach swirls with equal parts nerves and period cramps.
I sit and hyperfocus for a good two or three hours before my bladder protests. When I finally rise from my seat and stretch, the pub is practically empty. Jamie comes over and fills my water glass.
“You good?” they check.
“Fantastic, thank you.”
My eyes are tired, and my muscles are sore, but I’ve got plenty of work to do, so after a quick break, I get back to it. I crank through another two hours of code before switching to answering the emails cluttering my inbox.
Jamie bustles over, an apologetic frown on their face. “I’m sorry, it’s shift change. Do you mind cashing out?”
“Of course not.” We handle the necessities, and they introduce me to the woman who will be taking over this section. I make sure to tip her up front too.
It’s almost time for my dinner with Wish, so I hit the bathroom and change into the blue sweater I promised I’d wear. I’ve been keeping an eye out for a man in a blue tie. Turns out a lot of men wear blue ties. Why is it such a popular color? Why is it such a boring color?
I look over every man in his early thirties, but I don’t get a vibe that any of them are Wish. I don’t know what to expect from him. Is he tall or short? Fat, muscular, or skinny? All I know is that he’s kind and has a nice voice and makes me feel warm and cozy in the best way possible.
I want to get to know my friend that much better. That much more.
Nobody knows about our friendship. I’ve never told Bex or Hailey or any of my other friends about the man I spend my nights with. Online, of course. They wouldn’t get it. Nobody would understand.
But Wish does. He gets it.
What we share is special. It means something. And now, after seven years, we’re finally going to meet.
I’m fucking terrified. Exhilarated. Emotions war within me, and no matter how much deep breathing I do, I can’t make the nervousness fade away.
Nobody knows that I’m here. If I had someone to share my location with, it would be different. We’re meeting in a public place, and no matter how well I know him, we’re not going back to his place. Or mine. Or any other location.
Not until I get a handle on this innocent little crush I have on a man I’ve never met.
I know him intimately. I just don’t know his name or what he looks like.
Time stretches on. Each movement of my watch ticking the seconds feels like a strike against my chest, lashing my heart.
Six.
Six fifteen.
Six twenty.
Six thirty.
Finally, at six forty-five, I pick up my phone. There are no messages, no notifications.
I type out a text to Wish, holding my breath: Are you coming?
There’s no answer for a long time. It feels like an eternity before the little typing bubble pops up, then disappears again.
It’s at least fifteen minutes before my phone buzzes, and I blink at the screen, uncomprehending. None of this makes sense. Wish is the one who wanted to meet. He’s the one who suggested this.
Wish: I’m sorry. I can’t.