Chapter 22
If there was ever a time to curse LA traffic, it’s right now. I lay all my weight on my horn. “THE. LIGHT. IS. GREEN!!!!!!”
Now that the fog in my head is subsiding, I’m starting to see things clearly.
Since making my list, I’ve been so worried about myself, about my future, that I’ve completely missed what’s been going on right in front of me.
Like Jonathan suggested I do in the first place, I’m taking a step back.
Finally, I’m getting a glimpse of the bigger picture.
I think Sandy was right. All the time and energy I spent throwing myself into my list and obsessing over Finn was just my way of avoiding the things that scared me: the shift in my relationship with Jonathan and the feelings I have for Matthew.
Matthew.
I can think about him later.
Because as I pull up to the corporate office building just shy of downtown, all I want to do is make things right with Jonathan.
There are still some hurt feelings that I need to work through, but they’re overpowered by a fierce need to tell him that I love him and I can’t bear the thought of losing him.
I’m sure there’s more to say than that, as well as questions to be asked, but for now saying those two things feels like the only thing that really matters.
I loop around the block twice, frantically searching for a parking spot, with no success.
This could take an hour.
I don’t have time to waste; the workday is almost over and Jonathan could leave any minute.
I certainly can’t afford to miss him. I pull my car up to the red curb in front of his office and cut the engine.
I’ll gladly go into debt paying off a parking ticket if it means getting to Jonathan even a second sooner.
I run past the elevators and throw open the door to the stairs, sprinting to the seventh floor with a speed I didn’t know I possessed.
My legs scream at me to slow down when I round the corner to floor six, but I keep going, practically crawling by the time I emerge from the stairwell.
Having been here only once, years ago, I find myself lost in a sea of cubicles and closed office doors.
I turn right, colliding with a leggy blonde who seems to materialize out of thin air. I recognize her immediately. Sydney.
I was entirely wrong about her involvement in all this. Part of me wants to apologize to her.
But then she opens her mouth.
“Can I help you?” Her tone is sharp. I catch her glaring at my massive T-shirt, probably noting the way it clings to my body with a layer of sweat.
I straighten up. “Yes, I’m looking for Jonathan Cooper.”
She looks me over with determination, like she’s deciding whether to let me pass. Finally she steps aside, pointing to a closed door at the end of the hallway. “Johnny’s the last door on the right.”
“Thank you,” I offer through clenched teeth as I brush past her.
As I approach the door to his office, I can feel my hands begin to shake slightly.
I hope that I don’t say the wrong thing.
I peek through the window, and what appears through the cracks in the blinds clamps a vise around my heart.
Jonathan’s slumped over his desk, resting his head in the crook of his left elbow.
His hair is unruly, curls flying in every possible direction.
With his right hand, he pokes at his keyboard with his index finger.
He never wears his glasses, but he has them on today.
I wonder if the effort of putting contacts in felt like too much. I would understand.
I knock.
He startles, eyes darting to meet mine through the window. I smile awkwardly, folding my fingers into a weak wave.
He jumps up from his chair, shuffling to the door and yanking it open.
“Phoebe.” He blinks rapidly.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course.” He gestures to the small loveseat in the corner of the room as he closes the door, and we both sit down. I don’t waste a second.
“I love you,” I say at the exact same time as he says, “I’m sorry.”
I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. He squeezes me tightly.
“I’m sorry, too,” I say at the exact same time as he says, “I love you, too.”
We stay like this for a minute, unmoving, until Jonathan sighs into my ear. “You’ve smelled better.” I push him away, burying my nose into my own armpit. My eyes water.
“Wow,” I admit. “You must really love me if you let me hug you for that long.”
“I must,” he agrees.
“So…”
“So.” He clears his throat before taking my hand. “I need to tell you something.”
“You don’t need to tell me anything,” I say.
“Last night…I shouldn’t have confronted you like that.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I don’t want you to feel forced into telling me something before you’re ready.
” I cast my eyes downward, embarrassed by my own behavior.
“That’s the last thing I would ever want. ”
“Well, I want to tell you something,” he responds. “I’ve wanted to tell you something for a while, but I just…I was scared of things changing.”
I can understand that.
“But I’ve had enough,” he continues, squeezing my hand. “I’m ready now. Phoebe”—his voice is surprisingly steady—“I’m gay.”
I squeeze his hand back.
I rest my head on his shoulder, angling my eyes upward so that I can look at him. “Thank you for telling me. How do you feel?”
“Good,” he answers quickly. “I mean, I could throw up at any moment, but besides that, I feel good.”
“Well, you’re in good company.” I lightly kick my tote with my foot. “Let me know if you need a barf bag.”
“Will do,” he replies with a nod. I feel his shoulder tense under my cheek.
I sit up. “What’s wrong?”
“I really am sorry,” he says, sighing. “About how I handled…things.” He doesn’t need to say his name for me for me to know he’s talking about Finn.
“Don’t be.” I brush away his apology with a gesture. “I actually feel like we both handled things pretty perfectly.”
That makes him laugh. A big, booming laugh. It feels so good to joke with him again.
“There have been so many times over the past few weeks I’ve wanted to tell you,” he starts.
“I think the closest I came to actually doing it was when I was putting that Band-Aid on your ass. I thought maybe not being able to see your face would help.” That explains the shaky hands.
“I tried again a few days later, the night Finn was there for trivia. I went to the bar hoping a few shots would loosen me up. But again, I…I couldn’t get the words out.
” I nod, looking back at everything with a newfound understanding.
“And during our fight, I think at that point, I just wanted you to figure it all out already. I got mad at you for not seeing everything, which wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”
“Quit apologizing,” I tell him. “I can’t help but feel like a terrible friend for not picking up on it,” I admit.
Jonathan shakes his head. “Don’t. I spent a lot of time and energy making sure no one would.”
I look into his tired eyes. “You must be so exhausted.”
He shrugs, and I reach out to wipe a loose tear from his cheek. “Can I…ask you some questions?”
“Please,” he says. “I’m an open book.” Before today, the proposition of me grilling Jonathan on his love life would have sent him reaching for his phone, suddenly caught up in a wave of emails that couldn’t wait.
But now he just leans back on the couch, looking relaxed for the first time in a long while.
“When did you know?”
He squints, lost in his thoughts for a moment before answering. “I guess on some level, when I was young. Probably the first time I saw John Travolta in Grease.” He smirks.
Ohhh.
“But where I’m from…being gay wasn’t really a thing, as ridiculous as that might sound.
I had no reference point.” He shrugs again.
“I knew there was something different about me, though. I was never interested in girls the way my friends were. But I just figured I hadn’t met the right one yet.
I didn’t start to put the pieces together until I moved out here for college.
I hadn’t had any gay friends before, and then we met Alex, and I was so jealous of him.
” Ironic, considering how jealous Alex has always been of Jonathan.
“It took me a while to figure out where that was coming from, and once I did, I refused to acknowledge it. I just kept convincing myself I was waiting for the right girl.” He huffs a laugh under his breath.
“So I kept dating girls, never really feeling anything. There was even a time when I convinced myself that you had to be the one.”
“Me?” The admission makes my stomach drop.
He nudges me with his knee. “Don’t act all surprised.
You’re my best friend, we get along so well, you make me laugh…
I could very easily spend the rest of my life with you.
” He looks at me with a tenderness that makes me ache.
“You’re my soulmate, Pheebs. The only problem is, I don’t want to have sex with you. ”
I can’t help but laugh. The thing is, I think I understand exactly what he’s saying. I’ve had the exact same thoughts. When it comes down to it, I’ve never really been able to picture having sex with him, either.
“Oh god.” I bury my head in my hands. “My parents are gonna be crushed.”
“Ha! Well, they can get in line,” he jokes, but I can’t help but frown, knowing how difficult things will be with his family.
“One step at a time,” I tell him.
“Right,” he agrees. “I guess my next step would be telling our friends.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Just you.”
I nod. “Well, I’ll be wherever you want me to be, whenever you want me to be there. If you want.”
“I want.”
I smile reassuringly. “So…” I gear up for the question I’ve been dying to ask. “When did everything start with Finn?”
The corner of his lip curves upward into a faint smile at the mention of Finn’s name. “Have you heard of the app Hanger?” he asks.
“I don’t think so?”