Page 33 of A Totally Platonic Thing
So two possibilities: One, something had happened in between last night, when Chris had gone to bed all satisfied with the work he’d gotten done and ready to turn in his paper and turn his classes around—without even complaining about missing gay night at Aeon—and this evening. Something that had upset him enough to ghost both me and Sebastian.
Or two, what we’d done had finally sunk in. He didn’t want me at all, obviously. We were incredibly close in a totally different way, and also he knew I was straight, and also also, I wasn’t his type. His taste in porn and the guys I’d seen him with suggested that.
Not to mention what he’d said on Friday night, the words I couldn’t seem to get out of my head:At least I have an option other than sitting at home watching porn with my roommate I’m not even attracted to.If I’d ever wondered if Chris secretly liked the way I looked more than he let on…well, I didn’t need to wonder anymore. I tried to ignore the little cold lump of hurt in my chest as I thought about it. Fuck.
Anyway.
The point was, since he didn’t want me like that, he might be feeling like I’d taken advantage of him, or like he’d taken advantage of me somehow. I didn’t even know, but I could imagine all kinds of freaking out that could arise from what I’d done to him and what he’d let me do.
And when Chris got upset like this, he didn’t make good decisions, and if he got way too drunk and way too out of control, who the fuck knew what kind of asshole guys he’d make himself vulnerable to.
If he went out and tried to get laid by some guy who was into that kind of kink, and the fucker went too far…it made me want to throw up.
In other words, I didn’t think I was overreacting.
So I headed for Aeon. That was a total bust; I didn’t even need to go in, because the bouncer told me that neither Aidan nor Chris were there as soon as I got within earshot. Yeah, so I’d spent a little time there too. I thanked him and headed back to my car, glancing in a couple of nearby bars as I did without a lot of hope.
Okay, so there were other clubs. I could go to those. I checked my phone, including my email. No calls, texts, or any other kind of message. And fuck, but there were like fifty bars and clubs downtown. At least half of them had dance floors. And Chris could bar hop as easily as I could, seeing as he was avoiding his favorite. I could spend all night missing him by five minutes.
Out of both patience and luck, I headed home. I’d gotten to Sebastian and Aidan’s place right before eight, and now it was almost ten. I’d been going practically without a break for fifteen hours. And Chris was either okay, or he wasn’t. I couldn’t do anything about it either way except try not to worry.
Right. But at least I could pace, and worry, and freak out, in the relative comfort of my own apartment.
And wait for Chris to get home.
Chapter Eight
Chris
By the time eleven rolled around, I still hadn’t managed to get buzzed enough to forget all the nagging thoughts clamoring for my attention. The first vodka tonic had gone down the hatch like magic, letting me get a deep breath for the first time all day.
I nursed a second one, not actually wanting to get drunk at all, but it came with a chaser of realizing that it was possible other people had the same idea about not standing out as absent in a crowd in a lecture hall, and that the room might have been empty enough for the TA to notice I wasn’t there, especially since I’d drawn his attention by going to see him that morning. And that sometimes professors got fed up with absenteeism and gave a little pop quiz, or something else that would get collected, so that they had the names of everyone who’d been there.
That led me right back to the bar, where I hesitated, wavered, and then finally managed to convince myself to order a glass of soda water instead of a drink.
I felt better about myself for approximately five minutes.
By the time I ordered that third cocktail, I’d danced a little bit to some incredibly crappy autotuned nonsense, had a conversation about how guys sucked with a group of girls outside the bathroom—they’d been bemoaning someone’s string of loser hookups, and oh boy had I had a few things to contribute to that topic—and gotten their full absolution for the Eli thing. I’d given them all the gory details, including how he’d taken me to hotels and managed to convince me it was because he wanted it to be romantic.
Like a crappy chain hotel was more romantic than his apartment, somehow. Yeah. I’d been an idiot, and it still made me squirm and cringe in embarrassment and hurt, and I word-vomited until I couldn’t think of anything else to add. They hugged me, and patted me on the arm, and said I’d struck a blow for cheated-on girls everywhere by letting her know about it.
So that third vodka tonic tasted all right.
But it also reminded me, yet again, about how I’d gone and gotten in bed with Lucas when I got home super early the morning I found out, and how he’d reassured me that I didn’t do anything wrong. And not said a word about how I reeked of liquor and sex and that club miasma that couldn’t be defined but that everyone who’d been to one would instantly recognize.
I still hadn’t turned on my phone, even though I could feel it weighing down my pocket like it held all my sins in its little plastic case.
Would Lucas be watching movies with Sebastian and Aidan and maybe that blonde right now? Had she cuddled up to his side the way I always did when I started to get loose and relaxed from the beer we all drank on Monday nights?
That thought burned somewhere in my chest that didn’t feel like a physical part of me.
I didn’t want a fourth cocktail. I wanted Lucas.
And I didn’t think he wanted me.
The music screeched around me, the girls I’d been talking to had moved to the dance floor and were giggling and gyrating, and I felt, abruptly, totally detached from everything around me. Like it was happening somewhere else, behind a sheet of glass.
I put my drink down on the nearest empty table, not even bothering to make sure I’d drained the last of it, and pushed my way out of the club.
