7. Orion #4
Yes, this is exactly what I need to hear him say to help me get over my little problem with him.
“And you’re not into fucking around with other guys…
are you?” I suggest. Before he can respond, I answer for him because I’m so sure of what his answer will be.
“No, of course not. You’re not wired like that.
You think the idea of a guy touching you is…
” I make a face and search for the right word.
I can’t find it, so I end up going with, “Gross.”
Jordan stops walking and looks at me sharply. “I don’t think it’s gross, Orion. I just don’t think it’s for me.”
“Think,” I squawk faintly. “You don’t think it’s for you.”
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve thought about it, obviously.” Sweet Jesus. The hits just keep coming tonight. “Everyone does.” What? No, they fucking don’t! “It’s just… I don’t… I’ve never been in a situation that’s given me a major drive to try it, I guess. But there’s nothing wrong with it.”
I consider telling him I used the wrong word and didn’t mean what I said, but the whole conversation has gotten so out of control that I think it might be best to draw a line under it.
“Nice to see Riley out tonight, huh?” I say instead. To add a little flair to my performance, I add, “And West. It was really good to see West.”
I’d like to say it was nice to see Andy too, but I can’t make the leap.
Jordan stops walking and glares at me. “Seriously, O. Riley and West? You’re dropping me for those guys? How could you do that to me? It’s bad enough being kicked to the curb for one of them, but both of them. How fucking dare you, bruh? After everything we’ve been through together.”
I butt my shoulder into his, fighting a smile, and he butts his into mine.
It’s not an important interaction. It’s not particularly noteworthy, or even worth mentioning. It’s that for me, even the slightest, most innocent touch from Jordan is electric. It sinks into my bones and rushes down my arm, leaving my fingers tingling.
For Jordan, it’s nothing. Unmemorable and completely forgotten as soon as it’s happened.
A nonevent. Something he won’t remember tomorrow, even if he hadn’t been drinking tonight.
To me, it feels special. To me, it feels like possibility.
Like the start of something breathless and shaky.
Like the ground-quaking seconds before a first kiss.
A first touch. A shared look. A shared connection that’s about to lead to something life-changing.
It isn’t, obviously. That’s my personal bullshit and all the booze talking. That’s all it is. I know that, but tonight I can’t seem to make myself care.
“D’you know that West is super good at math?” I’m baiting him because I’m weak, and stupid, and sometimes I like playing fast and loose with my heart. “Apparently, he’s some kind of genius or something.”
“He’s not a genius, Orion.” Jordan’s top lip pulls back with aversion. “He’s gifted, that’s all.”
I narrow one eye dubiously. “I’m pretty sure being gifted and being a genius is the same thing, bud.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Is too.”
He huffs a long sigh, and I notice his eyelids are a little more droopy than usual.
I’m not the only one who’s a little blasted tonight.
He’s messed up too. Sadly for me, I love drunk Jordan.
He’s like sober Jordan on steroids. More exuberant and affectionate than usual, without any of the negative side effects like aggression or belligerence that lots of inebriated guys suffer from.
“What do you need a friend who’s a genius for anyway?” he demands.
“I don’t know. I guess I thought it might be nice. He could help me with my taxes and investments one day. You know, that kind of thing.”
Jordan abruptly stops walking. “I’m studying finance, asshole. If anyone’s going to help you with your taxes or investments one day, it’s going to be me.”
“Yeah, but no offense, you’re an average student at best. If I’m going to be investing my hard-earned cash, I’d rather—”
His mouth drops open to form a perfect circle. “You’re trying to hurt me, O. And you’re getting it right. You’re crushing my spirits, and you don’t even care.”
His expression is one of exaggerated despair. His eyes track slower than usual, and his lips remain ajar even after he’s finished speaking.
“I’m not crushing your spirits, dipshit,” I say as we start walking again. “If I were, you’d know all about it. Besides, are you really saying I can’t have other friends? Are you sure you want to be that guy?”
“Of course you can have other friends, Orion. I’m not saying you can’t. You just have to like me more than them. All I’m saying is that you can’t be too good friends with them.”
“Too good friends with them?” I reply. “Your grammar’s fucked, bud, and so is your thinking. This is abuse. It’s literally the first step in an abusive relationship.”
“You know what I mean. Don’t act like you don’t. I’m not being unreasonable. You have to like me more than anyone else, that’s all.”
I shake my head at him in disgust, even though my heart is having a party in my chest.
“You know, Orion.” He sighs long and dreamily, chuckling for no reason. “If you were a girl, I’d totally date you.”
Relax. This is nothing to get excited about. He says shit like this all the time. He thinks it’s funny. He doesn’t mean anything by it.
I glare at him and click my tongue. “No, you fucking would not.”
“I would,” he insists. “I one hundred percent would.”
Against my better judgment, I decide to play along. “Oh yeah. How come?”
“’Cause”—he holds his thumb and forefinger close together, head bobbing a little unsteadily—“you’re a little bit mean…and I’m into that.”
I huff in mock disgust. “A little bit mean? A little mean? I’m not a little mean, asshole. I’m a lot mean.”
He throws an arm around my shoulder and sends a belt of laughter into the night sky. The sound hits the moon and the stars and bounces off them. “No, you’re not. You’re the best person I know, O.”
“Ugh,” I say, shrugging him off. It does nothing to dissuade him. “Don’t get all sappy like that.”
“You are. You’re my person, Orion. You have been since day one, and you always will be.”
He says things like this to me often. He means it. He means it from the bottom of his heart and has no idea that it hurts me in very specific, hard-to-live-with ways. Ways that whisper stupid, impossible things to my heart, even though he doesn’t mean it the way I want him to mean it.
Though I know all that, a wild, rampant rush of emotion comes up when he says it. A rush of good things that don’t care about things as mundane as reality. Beautiful things. Soft, gentle things. Things that feel like something completely different to me than they do to Jordan.
I put my arm around his waist, holding on to the back of his T-shirt to ground myself. We sway slightly as we walk, and after several paces, I become aware that he’s waiting for me to reply. What’s surprising is that he’s giving me time to speak without prompting me.
Unlike most nights when I push things like this down for all I’m worth, my truth is riding high in my body tonight, radiating out from my heart and traveling rapidly up my throat.
I swallow hard, trying to restore the equilibrium that makes it possible for me to survive being only Jordan’s friend.
It hurts more than it should. A sharp stab.
A splintering sting at the back of my throat.
Tiny blades slicing into soft flesh as I force it down.
“You’re my person too, Jordy,” I say when I can.
He pulls me closer, and I hear the smile in his voice before he utters a word. “Jordy,” he whispers. “It’s been a while since I got a Jordy out of you.”
“It’s no big deal.”
He clunks his head against mine as our apartment building comes into view. “It’s a big deal to me, and you know it.”