Chapter Six #3
We fall into silence again, this time less comfortable.
We both know I’m lying, and we both know that I’m aware of how obvious this fact is.
For what reason he believes I’m lying to him, I’m not sure.
But I am relieved that he’s not pushing me.
I have nothing I could say; I’ve been hiding Ash’s true nature for twelve years, and I have no intention of ever telling him.
I don’t want Skylar to worry; I don’t want his pity. But most of all, it’s embarrassing. So fucking embarrassing.
My own parents abandoned me—and then the people who did want me only truly wanted a punching bag. I don’t want Skylar to think of me like that, to see me as so little. To see my true worth.
“I have to work at six tonight,” Skylar starts, placing his mug back on the table now that it’s half empty. I’ve never seen him finish a glass, not in twelve years. “Want to get Henry and Kelly together and get dinner before?”
I shrug. “Sure. But then I’m going to the bar and getting drunk.”
Skylar snorts. “Of course you are.”
We spend most of the day just like that: laid out on the couch doing nothing. At some point, Skylar makes me review some of his math homework, which is all fine; I like that there is at least one thing he’s not the best at.
As the early evening rolls around, we load up into Sky’s Honda and head to Angie’s Diner, leaving my car at the apartment so I can Uber home later once I inevitably get wasted.
Pulling into the parking lot, we spot Henry and Kelly by the entrance, waving at us enthusiastically. A hot spike of anger and unfamiliar jealousy courses through me at the sight of Kelly’s beautiful face.
But just as quickly as it comes, it goes, and it’s replaced by guilt and shame. She was drunk and free to do as she pleased. I have no claim over Skylar.
Plus, she gave me seven minutes in heaven with him, so truthfully, I should be thanking her. Or cursing her, depending on which side of my animal brain you’re asking.
And then, because everything I love in my life has a price, I look between our two friends and remember Ash’s warning. Sadness coats everything that surrounds me and everything that lurks inside.
I do not believe my friends are worthless. Just because they don’t fit the Carmichael image doesn’t mean they aren’t good enough to be in my company. I am nothing special, anyway.
Mediocre man, mediocre baseball player, sex god.
There are at least fifty other men out there just like me. The only great thing I have to offer this world is how fast I can bring someone to orgasm. I’m nothing special.
Skylar and I join up with Henry and Kelly, the four of us falling into our usual seats at our booth in the back.
We order what we always do; we say hi to Jenny.
“How are y’all’s headaches?” Kelly asks, sucking down her cookies-and-cream milkshake, her pink hair in two low pigtails.
“I’ve been fine since I went to the gym this morning,” Skylar says, shrugging.
“Sky fixed me around lunch,” I add.
Kelly laughs. “Of course he did. Pro bartender and all that.”
“I don’t get hangovers,” Henry brags, throwing an arm over the back of their booth.
This earns him a glare from the girl next to him as she sasses, “Okay, Chuckie. Brag about it.”
“Evie here plans on drinking at the bar tonight,” Skylar interjects, thankfully changing the subject before Kelly can actually put hands on Henry.
“Really?! Me too!” She’s excited again, leaning forward over the table.
I smile at her.
“Count me out—I have a quiz tomorrow,” Henry grumbles.
Kelly scoffs. “Loser. But I guess not all of us can be super geniuses like Sky. Speaking of, did you two enjoy your alone time last night?”
She wiggles her brows as I inhale my Sprite down the wrong pipe.
Does she mean the bathroom? Or is it obvious just by looking at us that we… touched once everyone had left?
“Sure did,” Skylar answers, quick and nonchalant.
My head whips in his direction, suddenly very interested in his thoughts on the matter. He did?
But then, because he’s set on crushing all of my worst fantasies, he adds, “We arm wrestled, and I won. Twice. Obviously.”
“Damn. You’re weak, Everett,” Henry snickers.
Right. Of course. Obviously Skylar isn’t going to go around telling people we made out. And he probably didn’t enjoy it; he clearly isn’t affected by or concerned with the situation, even if it was his first makeout session.
Actually—what the fuck? Why isn’t he more concerned? Was he really that repulsed? Unimpressed? Did my drunk ass just imagine all of his neediness, his desperate hands?
Is it because I’m a guy?
“He’s not lying,” I interject, suddenly extremely annoyed. “He had me pinned.”
It’s Skylar’s turn to choke on his drink, most likely being bombarded with the memory of his hips pinning mine to his bed as he demanded more of my praise. As he fell apart under my wandering mouth.
“You’ve always been pretty tough, Sky,” Henry compliments, digging into his burger as soon as the plate hits the table.
As Jenny retreats, I can feel Skylar’s eyes on me.
“Yeah,” he says, but he sounds far away. “You know me. Tough.”