Page 19 of Bad at Love
“You get to judge me,” he says. “Maybe there are problems I’m not even seeing, problems that might come up later.”
“And then later, what, it turns into a relationship? How does that even work if it’s not real? What’s the difference between that and, well, the fact that we’re friends?”
“I wouldn’t see anyone else. Neither would you.”
“I guess that’s fair.” I can’t even fathom dating anyone for real right now anyway.
“And we wouldn’t act like friends around each other either,” he adds.
“There you go with the sex thing again.”
“Or maybe we’ll just go on dates for a few weeks and that’s it. I don’t know. But it can’t hurt.”
“Are you kidding me?” I finish the rest of the beer and push it away. “It can hurt everything, Laz. You’re one of my best friends. I don’t want to mess that up. I don’t want to lose you, this, what we have. I appreciate your concern for me and yourself, and obviously I don’t want to keep failing at this love game but…it’s not worth risking our friendship for. Is it?”
He nods, exhaling through his nose as he looks away. His shoulders slump slightly. “Yeah. You’re right, Bumble.”He brings his gaze back to me, looks me dead in the eye. “Forget I said anything.”
But I can’t forget it. Now that he’s brought it up, it’s like it’s already altered the dynamic between us. After the burger we go to the bookstore across the street, and though we lapse back into our usual ways on the surface—Laz spending his time flipping through biographies and sifting through poetry books, me in both the historical romance and horticulture sections—I know that something has changed.
It’s the idea of dating Laz.
Just that little seed of something, tossed into the dirt of my brain.
I know he said it would be fake.
I know that we wouldn’t be dating each other for any other reason than to maybe learn something about ourselves and how we are in relationships.
I know all that.
But even so, I can’t help but look at him differently. Not with new eyes, just with a new filter.
I’m terrified I might change my mind.
CHAPTER THREE
LAZ
“SOOTHE MY SOUL”
You’re a bloody wanker.
Not exactly the pep talk I should be having right now as I literally stare at the wall, dealing with writer’s block. But hey, there you have it.
Iama bloody wanker.
I don’t know what I was thinking when I propositioned Marina with that whole dating each other scenario. I guess the girl just has me curious. That’s at least partially the reason I brought it up. There’s something going on if she can’t seem to get past the third date and I’m really curious to know what it is.
The other reason, the better reason, is that I want to help her. She’s my friend. And even though I’m not a huge fan of seeing her date around, and I get inexplicably jealous from time to time, I don’t like seeing her sad or unhappy. I want to fix her problems for her.
It’s only fair. Of all my friends, she’s the one who is going out of her way to make sure everyone is okay. She’s nurturing and loyal to a fault, even to those who may not deserve it. Like her father.
I sigh and sit back in my chair, tapping my pen against my leg. The notebook is wide open, the page blank. I never write on my laptop—it’s either one of a million tattered notebooks I carry around or it’s on my iPhone’s note section when I’m in a pinch.
But today, nothing is flowing. Contrary to what I told Simone the other day, I won’t be writing about her because I feel…nothing. Not remorse, not sadness, not happiness. I don’t feel lost or found. I’m just…that bloody blank sheet.
Blank.
Empty.
