This Is Fine

Intro

During Nate Woodruff’s last visit to Wishbone Tattoos…

Leo got laid. No doubt about it.

And not just laid; he has the look of a man whose entire life has been upended in the best possible way.

It’s in the way his smile doesn’t quite fade, even when we’re discussing less interesting shit. Like placements for the twisting electric eels on the sea life themed sleeve he’s been doing for me.

Plus, despite his concentration being faultless while he works, he’s wearing a look that suggests part of his brain is playing back all the things he did to whoever it was. Filthy things. Borderline illegal things, from the faraway gleam in his eyes.

“What’s her name?” I ask. He glances up, surprised that I rumbled him. I grin. “You’ve got that low key permanent smile that can only mean one thing.”

“I do, huh?”

“Unmistakable.” I should know, after all; it’s the same look I’d wear if the one person I truly wanted had spent last night in my arms instead of as far away from me as I could manage.

Leo’s mouth twists as he weighs up how much to tell me. “Sadie Stewart,” he mutters before resuming the outlining for the first eel.

Sadie! Brilliant. I laugh, holding up the other hand to make him stop. “You’re shitting me?!” That’s fucking great news. I know he’s been down bad for his red headed fireball of a co-worker for years, the way I am with...

Well. Never mind.

“I shit you not, amigo.” A pure, happy smile spreads across his face, damn near splitting it in two.

“Alriiiiiiight! About time you two hooked up.” I have to ask… “After all this time, what finally made it happen?”

I mean, it’s not like I’m going to follow his directions and act on anything, but still, it’s good to know this shit can work out for other people, even if it doesn’t for me.

“You know, I’m not sure.” His mind goes elsewhere for a moment, and then shrugs with his usual life-is-but-a-dream-so-let’s-enjoy-the-ride cockiness. “Guess she finally saw what a handsome, smart, hilariously funny guy I am, and you can’t blame the poor girl for wanting a piece.”

I snort. Leo is one of the most solid people I know, and his arrogance is all for show. “Well, whatever it was, I’m glad, man.” I may be quietly envious to the point of physical pain, but my joy for him is genuine. He deserves this. “You’re a lucky guy, and I’m happy it finally happened for you.”

He gives me one of his x-ray vision looks. “You knew?”

I shrug. “Not for sure, but now and again I caught you looking at her, and…” I break off before I reveal more than I’d intended.

Too late. “And you know the look.” Leo has this uncanny ability to read between the lines, almost emotionally psychic. “You know, you can talk to me about anything, man, not only about your dad.”

Somehow, I know it would be a hell of a lot easier to bitch about my dad sending me a birthday card three weeks late and putting my half brother’s name in it, than about the absolute shitshow that is my relentless infatuation for the one woman I can never have.

I have a flash of her smiling at me the last time I saw her, that beautiful, luminous grin that made my spine melt.

It’s an intrusive thought I both love and hate in equal measure: love, because she owns a piece of my heart and mind; hate, because I will never be able to feel that smile against my own lips.

Is there any nastier word in the language than unrequited?

Try impossible.

“Maybe some other time,” I say finally.