Page 58 of The Lineman

“I’ve got you, Mike. You’re safe with me.”

I don’t know why I said it. Of course, he was safe. We were inside, in my house. No one was threatening us or protesting outside. What a stupid thing to say.

Mike pulled back, tears finally falling, and stared into my eyes.

“I believe you do, Elliot. I believe I am safe . . . with you.”

Chapter eighteen

Mike

Ididn’tmakeithome.

I left Elliot’s house on unsteady legs, my body still buzzing, my mind a total wreck, and instead of walking straight back to my place like a normal person, I did something stupid.

I pulled out my phone.

Hesitating for half a second, I called Mateo.

It rang twice before he picked up.

“Mike,” he answered, mid-yawn. “It is too late for your bullshit. What do you want?”

I paused.

“Breathe. I’m kidding. It’s good to hear your voice. What’s up?”

Then, sounding borderline unhinged, I whispered, “I am so fucked.”

Mateo was silent for three whole seconds before asking, “What happened?”

I exhaled, shoving my free hand into my pocket, walking faster down the quiet street. “You remember how I said Elliot was hot?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, that was an understatement.”

Mateo snorted. “Are we talking ‘guy you see at the gym and make eye contact with in the mirror but never approach’ hot or ‘physically ruin your life’ hot?”

I groaned. “Both.”

Mateo laughed. “So . . . how many minutes into the date did you jump him?”

“I didn’t!” I protested. “I was a perfect gentleman.”

“Oh, so you didn’t make a move?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Mike.”

“Listen!” I said quickly, before he could start yelling. “Dinner was amazing. The man cooked like a goddamn sorcerer. I was stuffed, slightly buzzed, and very impressed. Okay, very buzzed and very impressed. We moved to the couch. Put on a movie.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.”

Mateo exhaled sharply. “Please tell me you didn’t put on a gay romcom.”

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