Page 38 of The Jerk in Apartment 1B

“How much do you consider a lot?”

I’m annoyed by her question. I feel like she’s only asking it to support her belief that all men are jerks, including me. But I’m not a jerk because I’ve slept with a lot of women, or what Trina would consider a lot. I’d be a jerk if I told a woman I wanted a relationship with her when I really didn’t. But I haven’t done that. Not once.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” I say.

“Why? It was just a question.”

“Our deal was I tell you about Bridget, which I did.” I look around for the waitress. “I’m going to get the check.”

“You barely touched your food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said you were.”

“And now I’m not.” I wave at the waitress as she goes by. She nods, and comes over with the check.

I would’ve stayed here longer, but I didn’t want Trina using the time to try to prove I’m just another shitty guy. Because I’m not. I’ve done a lot of good things the past few years, things I didn’t need to do. I could’ve chosen a different path, the onemost guys my age would’ve chosen, but I didn’t. And I’m proud of that.

“Is everything okay?” Trina asks, sensing my change in mood.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” I say, leaving some cash out for the bill.

“Thanks for taking me here,” Trina says. “I really liked it.”

As we get out of the booth, my phone rings. It’s Bridget calling again. This time I answer.

“Hey, what’s up?” I say as we leave the restaurant.

“I was wondering if I could come over today.”

“Why? Are you not ready for tomorrow?”

“No, I am. This isn’t about that. I just thought maybe we could hang out. I had fun last night. Didn’t you?”

I knew she’d try to turn last night into something more. It’s because it wasn’t just last night. It’s been going on for a couple weeks, and now she thinks we’re dating again. I made it clear that we’re not, and she agreed. So why is she calling me, acting like our agreement never existed?

“Let’s talk about this later,” I say, glancing at Trina as we walk down the street. She’s pretending not to listen to my conversation, but she’s right next to me. She can hear everything I’m saying, even with the street noise.

“Can I come over?” Bridget asks.

“I won’t be around. I’m going out.” It’s a lie, but if I tell her I’ll be home, she’ll show up and want to talk about the relationship we’re not actually in.

“Okay, well, call me tonight.”

She used to say that when we were dating. She’d always want me to call her before she goes to bed. It’s another sign she thinks we’re back together.

“I’ll talk to you later.” I end the call.

Trina remains beside me, not saying anything. I thought she’d ask who was on the phone, but she doesn’t. And I’m not going to tell her. I don’t know why, but it bothers me to tell Trina about Bridget, which is strange because I normally wouldn’t have an issue with it. Like if Jenna were here, I’d have no problem telling her it was Bridget on the phone. And there’s a good chance I would’ve agreed to let Bridget come over tonight. But I don’t want Trina catching Bridget at my place and assuming there’s something going on there.

But why do I care? Trina is just the girl next door. I shouldn’t care what she thinks of me or if she sees me with girls. I can be with whoever I want.

We don’t talk again until we’re back at the apartment. I stop at my door while she continues to hers.

“Thanks again for feeding me,” she says in a joking way.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

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