Page 10 of Strange Lad

I’m sorry, man.

Keep me updated.

My eyes water against my will because I’m unable to face Phoenix.

It was never supposed to be like this. All I wanted was to reach out to Oli in hopes that he’d talk to Phoenix. That he’d help soothe my friend’s badly broken heart. That’s not how it went, though. Instead, I came upon an equally broken heart and man. A man who I’d known as a kid and who didn’t have a soul in his corner. My hero complex is insatiable.

I’d wanted to help. I have helped. He’s in recovery because ofme.

“Damnit,” I hiss and text Oli.

Where are you?

I hear his phone go off outside.

Shaking my head because I knew he wouldn't leave without waking me up first, I push open his front door and spot him eyeballing the worthless motorcycle he’d brought home a month ago. He’d sent me numerous pictures of it along with all hisplans to spruce it up and repair the damages. I don't know where the desire to own one came from because he's never expressed an interest before. Motorcycles are Damien's thing.

“Hey,” I say, throat dry.

“Hi,” he smiles at me and returns to staring.

“Phoenix knows.”

His entire body goes rigid as he slowly looks back at me. “What?”

“About the meeting. Eli told him.” Obviously, it wasn’t me, even though Oli texted me in a panic immediately after it happened.

And currently, I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I wish I could because I’m sure I’ve got scarlet letters tattooed on my forehead that sayguilty as fuck.“Oh. I already texted Phoenix.”

“You did?”

He nods, chewing his cheek and folding his thick arms. “Yeah. Told him I’m not ready to talk to him. And, of course, he didn’t write back. It’s so easy for him to claim he’s here for me and whatever fuck else, but when I push back and make it the tiniest bit harder for him, he shuts me out again. This is why I’m not falling for it.”

God, I’m being ripped in two here. I know that’s not true about Phoenix. I know how badly he misses Oli. “It’s different now,” I tell him, wanting to clutch his shoulder like I do for all my friends, but I don’t dare.

“How?” he demands. “How is it different from the countless times before? Where is he? Is he here? Is he telling me to my face? It’s not like it’s hard to find me.You found me.” I don’t miss the crack in his voice in that last sentence or how his throat bobs as he says it. “At this point, I’m not sure I'd listen to him even if he did show up. I’m…”

“I asked your sister, Oli. And I’m sure he’s just trying to respect your boundaries.”

“And I asked for him to talk to me. Begged. He didn’t even try. Didn’t respond formonths.But you tried. You tried, and you…youstayed.”

Oh, my heart. “You’re my friend,” I insist. “Seriously, like you’re my second bestie at this point. Of course, I’d stay.”

Weathering his lip and nodding, he flexes his biceps and faces the motorcycle. “Enough about Phoenix. What color should I paint this?”

And like he always does when I bring up my best friend, he shuts down the conversation. I sigh and give in to him because I’m a pushover. Humming, I throw out an oddball color because I don’t like it when his mood darkens like this. “Pink.”

He scowls. “Pink?”

“Mhm. With little red kisses.”

That makes him laugh, and my chest flutters when I hear it. See? This is what I’m good for. No one likes a Debby Downer more than me.

“That’s a terrible idea, Jorge,” he chuckles, that sparkle in his eyes returning. “What about gunmetal?”

“Boring,” I say and flick my eyes to his. “How about green?”

He thinks about it. “What shade, though?”

---