20. Dots #2
Jordan stood too, her shoulders pushed back. He’d seen her use this stance on sexist producers and overbearing fans but never him.
“The fact that you don’t know is the problem. You’re doing exactly what you hate Becks for.”
“I would never treat anyone the way she treats you.”
“Ha!” Jordan threw up her arms and stormed out of the room. Theo knew it was a bad idea to follow, but he did it anyway.
“Fool you once, shame on Becks. Fool you six fucking times, shame on—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” She went into her room and started shoving random things into her backpack.
“So what, you’re moving out tonight? Without even thinking about this?”
“I have thought about it.” A crumpled shirt, a balled-up pair of socks, her phone charger. “Believe it or not, I don’t tell you every thought in my head as they happen.”
“Since when?”
Her laptop wouldn’t fit, so she grunted, threw out one of her notebooks, then shoved the laptop in until she could zip around it.
Theo held up the notebook like it was exhibit A. “How many lyrics did you write about her breaking your heart? Why are you giving her the chance to do it again?”
She snatched the book back and tossed it into her desk drawer. “You’re being cruel. This isn’t like you.”
“Because I always tell you it’s okay, and that you can count on me to pick up the pieces after she destroys you, but I won’t this time, Jordan.”
“You won’t need to.” She hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder and went for the bedroom door, which he happened to be standing in front of.
“People change,” she said, her voice shaking.
“I know you don’t, but other people do.” That hit him harder than she must’ve intended because she closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Move. I’m leaving.”
He took her arm in one last desperate attempt to stop the disaster she was walking into. “Don’t go. Please, Jordan. Stay with me.”
She held his gaze, her eyes glassy with tears. He thought she would say something, thought they would talk it out, thought she would choose herself over the unhealthy infatuation. But no. When her mouth opened again, it was to say, “Move, Theo.”
He did, and she left.
What was wrong with him? He wanted to punch something. He wasn’t a puncher by nature, but this situation seemed like the right time to try it out. Not the wall, that was insane. A pillow. No, that wasn’t satisfying enough. His own leg.
He regretted it immediately and sunk onto the couch, clutching his now throbbing thigh. “I admit it,” he said out loud to the empty apartment. “This is a low point.”
A knock on the door made him think for a single, erratic moment that it was Jordan coming to her senses. But of course Jordan wouldn’t knock. This was still her apartment.
He opened the door to find Nick holding up a paper bag, handsome even under fluorescent lighting. “Chicken noodle. I know it’s cliché, but…”
Theo was going to throw up.
“Oh wow, you’re really in bad shape. Come on, let’s get you to bed. Do you have a fever?” He reached to touch Theo’s forehead, but Theo turned away. “Is everything okay?”
“No.” He didn’t deserve to be the one crying, but the tears came anyway.
“What’s going on?” Nick put the soup on the counter and guided him to Céline, sitting down beside him with a hand on Theo’s back.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
Confusion. Disbelief. Denial. Nick had never been able to hide his feelings. From the moment they first met, Theo saw how much he liked him, and now he saw how much he was hurting him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping away his stupid tears. “We’re not on the same level, and I’m not sure I can get there.”
Nick sat back like Theo’s words a force pushing him into the couch. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you how I felt. My friends warned me.”
Damn. People he didn’t even know were clocking him. “I’m so sorry, Nick. You deserve better.” Nick laughed without humour, and all Theo could do was repeat himself. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “Is this because of Dae?”
“No, of course not.” What did Dae have to do with it?
Nick gave him an incredulous sideways almost-glare. “Don’t say of course not like it’s some ludicrous impossibility. You talk about him all the time, and he happens to be returning next week.”
They were getting off track. “This has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with me. I’m not right for you.”
Nick put his hand on the leg Theo had punched. It still kind of hurt. “If this is a self-confidence issue, we can work through it.” His voice was too soft. Too kind. “I’m the one who decides if you’re right for me, and I say—”
“I kissed your boss.”
His hand retracted from Theo’s leg as if being an asshole was contagious. “Is that where you disappeared to? You went somewhere to make out with Greg?”
“I’m sorry.”
“He’s married, you know.” Jesus. Theo hadn’t noticed a ring. “To a woman.” At least the situation couldn’t get any worse. “And I have chlamydia.”
“What?” Which one was chlamydia? What did he have to do? Feed a cold, starve an STD?
“Okay, that last one was a lie, but you deserved it.” He stood and walked to the door, Theo awkwardly following behind. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I hope for the sake of the men of Toronto that you figure yourself out sooner rather than later.”
Theo didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded. How could he explain that there was no figuring himself out? That this was what he did? This was who he was? That this hurt had been inevitable from the start, and he never should’ve allowed himself to get to this point?
Nick stepped outside and turned around in that taking one last look kind of way Theo had only seen in movies.
“So, to recap,” Theo said, “there’s no chlamydia, right?”
Nick gave him a sad, awful version of his smile. “Goodbye, Theo.”