Page 29 of Ted's Temerity
“Ted?” Zephyr’s voice interrupts my thoughts and I look up to see his brow furrowed, his perfectly manicured eyebrows drawing down together.
While I’m tempted to tell him no, I can’t come up with a valid reason to refuse Charlie and Ash’s invitation. Then there’s his obvious excitement at the prospect of socializing more with the whole gang. If it’s a large enough gathering, I suppose it’s possible that I can just avoid the awkwardness with Charlie altogether.
I twist my left wrist to check the time and smother a sigh. “What time is everyone getting there?”
Zephyr’s expression morphs into surprise and then joy. “Six,” he says, then his thumbs fly over the keypad on his screen, “I’m telling them we’ll bring dessert.”
I chuckle genuinely at that, at least. My princess and his sweet tooth. “Sure,” I acknowledge. We don’t really have time to bake anything, so I suggest a trip to the local bakery. I know I’m going to wind up buying far more than just sweet treats for tonight, but I can’t help spoiling Zephyr and he knows it.
It’s not until we’re buckled into my car with a selection of pastries and cakes boxed and settled on the backseat that the anxiety I pushed aside earlier returns. Oblivious, Zephyr babbles about Ash’s plan to host a play-date at the same time: the reason why Zephyr’s packed himself a bag of his Little stuff for the evening.
“He said his friend Kate will be there, and so will Matt, and maybe even Josh might want to join in,” he tells me, twisting in his seat to face me as he rambles with obvious excitement. “I haven’t told him that I’m femme, but he’ll be okay with it, right?”
I tear my eyes from the road briefly to assure him, “Of course. They all will. They’re good guys.”
That’s not something I would ever question. My reluctance to tell them about my past and about my loss has nothing to do with a fear of judgment, at least. If anything, I don’t want their sympathy. I don’t want them to treat me differently. I’m still the same Ted I’ve always been but, if Charlie’s reaction is anything to go by, they’re not going to see it that way.
Zephyr nods, seemingly accepting my words at face value. But, as silence descends upon us, he places his hand on my thigh and squeezes, “Are you okay?”
Maybe he’s not quite as oblivious to my anxiety as I thought.
Not wanting to lie to him, I mull over how to respond. “I’m…just thinking.”
“About?”
I should have known that question was coming.
I sigh, keeping my gaze firmly on the road ahead. “The last time I spoke to Charlie, I told him something that…” I trail off.
How do I express this?
I don’t want Zephyr to worry, obviously, but I also don’t need him learning about the shadows in my past, either, no matter what Charlie thinks.
“That…?” he prompts.
I make a turn in the familiar direction of Charlie’s place. We’re still about five minutes away. Not short enough that I could feasibly brush Zephyr off. “Well,” I answer, still trying to verbalize my issue with as many euphemisms as feasibly possible, “I think it changed the way he sees me.”
“Oh.”
Belatedly, I can see how that explanation could be interpreted in a thousand different ways – not many of them pleasant.
“I mean,” I try to reassure him, “it was something from a long time ago, something I’ve worked through, and I don’t want him pitying me or treating me with kid gloves.”
While I don’t love that I’ve had to confess that there’s something pitiable in my past, I’d rather Zephyr know that than assume I’d said or done something terrible.
From the corner of my eye, I can see my boyfriend’s gaze narrowing while he tries to put the vague clues together. “Do you really think he’ll pity you?” he asks, and I catch the shake of his head before he answers himself, “Charlie doesn’t seem the type. He’s pragmatic. He mightempathizewith you, but he doesn’t come off the pitying type. And as for treating you differently-”
“He already is,” I huff, feeling much younger and more vulnerable than my actual age. The fact that I asked Charlie for space is something I conveniently choose to forget as I make my point. “We haven’t spoken in over a month. Things are awkward now.”
Instead of comforting me, Zephyr pats my thigh. “Well, the only way to fix that is to talk to him, you know.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. He doesn’t seem at all surprised at my confession that I haven’t been in touch with my best friend recently. Almost like he already…
It clicks.
“Asher,” I say aloud, mildly frustrated.
Ash and Zeph have spoken about this. About me and Charlie. Hell, for all I know, today’s supposedly ‘impromptu’ get-together is part of a plot to resolve whatever issues they think are between us.
