Page 42 of Small Sacrifices

For the last hour Reid is working, he's so distracted that he even resorts to checking his phone to see if he can find something that'll distract him from his distraction so he'll be able to work again.

It's a mistake. The text Everett sent early in the morning has been deleted.

In its wake, there are many more, scattered over the course of the day.

omg Reid im so sorry. i never should have said that. that was out of line.

im officially never drinking again. this is so embarrassing.

can u forgive me? i promise it wont happen again. i just really want to stay friends.

Reid? everything ok?

i mean are we ok? m really really sorry.

i kno ur prbly just working and not actively ignoring me. but could u please say something as soon as u read this? i just need to know how badly i messed this up.

ok last text for today. i swear. but i wanted to ask if we could meet up after u get off work? id like to apologize in person if ur comfortable with that. feel free to tell me to leave you alone tho

Well, shit. Reid had forgotten about that text. Immediately, he exits his messaging app again. There's a reason he set the thing up so that people can't know that he's already looked at their messages. Though this isn't the scenario he was imagining when he did that.

He proceeds to ignore the messages and just pretends to take notes by hand for the last twenty minutes before he leaves.

Mr. Wright eyes him suspiciously as he walks by—but he'd have to look over Reid's shoulder to realize he's just doodling.

Reid tries his very best to not look at him directly. He can't imagine that ending well.

When the clock hits five, Reid makes a deliberate effort to stay seated for an extra five minutes, packing up his things slowly to avoid the appearance of fleeing.

There's a twinge of guilt in the back of his mind for ignoring Everett's request to meet up.

But if he has to handle one more emotionally taxing thing today, he might just lose it.

Except things don't go his way. As Reid walks into the parking lot, he spots Everett leaning against his car. And before Reid can react, Everett's already raising his hand to wave. No hiding now.

Reid's teeth make an uncomfortable grinding sound when he clenches his jaw.

Still, he keeps walking. Maybe he can just ignore Everett and get into his car.

So far, Everett has been very respectful of boundaries.

Except for that text last night, of course.

But if Reid just says no clearly enough, he'll probably leave.

Now, the problem with that, Reid discovers as soon as he's getting close enough to his car to see Everett's face, is saying no to Everett. How are his eyes this big? He looks like a sad puppy, all shiny brown eyes and furrow between his brows.

"Hi," Everett says. The little hand wave that follows should not be as endearing as it is.

"Hi." Hoping to look stern, Reid crosses his arms.

"Can we just talk really quick?"

Reid sighs. "My day was really shitty. I want to go home."

The furrow deepens. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to apologize."

His expression is... dangerous. It makes Reid want to reach out and touch him.

Which is very inconvenient because they agreed they would be friends.

And friends don't touch each other in the way Reid wants to touch Everett.

They also don't feel all fluttery when their friends just look at them. At least as far as Reid knows.

"Go ahead." He feels like a bit of an asshole, but he needs to get away from here if he wants to stay within the boundaries they agreed on.

He feels like even more of an asshole when Everett's face falls. But he laces his fingers together to avoid reaching out, and Everett rallies quickly.

"Right." White teeth flash as Everett bites his lip. "I'm sorry that I texted you that last night. That was inappropriate. It won't happen again. I'm just... sorry."

There probably is a way that Reid is supposed to feel about this—but he just feels numb. Yes, it was inappropriate. It violated the boundaries they agreed on—maybe. Probably. Reid isn't too sure. But hearing Everett say that does not make it better.

"Oh," he says.

Everett winces. "I was a bit drunk. That's not an excuse, but I just... yeah. I won't do it again."

"On a Thursday?" Reid can't help but ask. This is the second time Everett has said that, and it doesn't sound good. People who are well don't just randomly get drunk on a Thursday, do they?

"Yeah." There's a grimace on Everett's face. He's leaning against Reid's car now, hands stuffed into his pockets. "I'm just having a tough time."

Oh. That almost hurts to hear. "And drinking helped?"

"Obviously not." Everett laughs self-deprecatingly. "But you know how it is. Sometimes you just need to distract yourself."

He looks down to pick at his cuticles, which makes his hair fall into his face. Even in the muted glow of the streetlights, it looks glossy and soft. Reid does not reach out to touch it.

Instead, he sighs. "I know."

Everett looks up again, a spark in his eyes. "Do you, now? And what are you distracting yourself from?"

"Marisol." It's out of his mouth before he can even think about it. Shit. He can't talk about Marisol, that's not good.

With narrowed eyes, Everett tilts his head. "Marisol? Why?"

"I can't talk about it," Reid says. That only makes it worse.

"Why?"

Great, now his hands are sweaty. This has everything to do with the fact that he now has to lie or find a believable excuse and absolutely nothing with the fact that Everett has pushed off from his car and stepped closer to him. Same as Reid doesn't even notice the intense look on his face. Nope.

"She doesn't want me to." At least he thinks so. It's her story to tell. He'd only get her in more trouble.

"Oh." Everett's hands are in his pockets again. "So what, are you a thing now?"

There's a sharp undertone to the words that confuses Reid at first. And then, it infuriates him. He's jealous. That has to be it. Reid squeezes his eyes closed against a hot wave of frustration. This can't be happening.

"Of course." Everett has his hands raised as if in defeat. "I was just surprised. It's quick."

"Quick." The word tastes like ash in Reid's mouth as he repeats it.

"Well, yeah. Or maybe I was imagining things. I probably was, I tend to do that. It's just... I thought that maybe there was something between us."

The gravel crunches under Reid's feet as he shifts in place. He wants to run. But Everett is conveniently blocking his most plausible route of escape. Does he know that's what he's doing?

"You said we could only be friends," Reid says, because what else can he say?

I thought that there was something between us, too?

He likes Everett, that much he knows for sure.

But he doesn't know much beyond that. And he also doesn't know what Everett means by something . Something romantic? Sexual? Both?

Everett's shoulders slump. "I know. But I think I underestimated how it would make me feel to think of you with someone else."

The urge to say something along the lines of "tough luck" is strong. This was Everett's choice. But then again, Everett probably took Reid's situation into consideration. He doesn't want Reid to lose his job.

"I don't think it's fair to put that on me," Reid says weakly. "Can you please—"

"That's not what I'm doing, though!"

Fire licks up Reid's spine. "Yes, you are. You're just presuming things and not letting me leave. Don't put this on me. You made a decision and now you should take care that you can handle the consequences. None of this is my fault."

Everett throws his head back with a groan, hands in his hair. "No, it isn't. But it's still difficult to realize that you're not actually interested. I thought... I don't know what I thought."

The words "I never said that" are out of Reid's mouth before he can even think about stopping them. He hopes—in vain—that Everett hasn't heard him or has maybe misunderstood. But it's unmistakable in his wide eyes that he did understand.

"What?" It's almost a whisper. But the hope in Everett's eyes is a roar. Reid doesn't know what to do with that. It doesn't look particularly platonic.

"Nothing," he says. His stomach is churning. For something to do, he tries to detach the carabiner with his keys and badge from his belt loop, but he fumbles it. The sound of the keys pricks his eardrums.

The emotions seem to war on Everett's face. His brows are furrowed, but there's the tiniest smile curling around the corners of his mouth. "Didn't sound like nothing to me. It sounds like you're not not interested."

"That's irrelevant," Reid says and takes a step forward, carabiner finally dangling from his finger. "Can you please let me through? I need to get home."

"Irrelevant?" The words have a hysterical edge to them. "How is it irrelevant?"

Reid sighs. "You said we were friends. It's irrelevant. Please let me through."

He tries again, but Everett lays a hand on his arm, which stops him in his tracks. "Hey, hold on. One minute, please?"

Even as he nods, Reid knows that this is going to take longer than just a minute. But Everett's eyes are just so large and dark. Arresting. He takes a fortifying breath when he sees Everett's Adam's apple bob.

"Did I understand that right? You're interested in me?"

Since Reid isn't about to say yes, and he also can't lie to save his life, he just stares. Everett sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fair enough. But are you and Marisol a thing?"

"No. I already said that." Is he not listening? If he isn't listening, why did he catch the one thing he wasn't supposed to?

"Right. Are you interested in Marisol?"

"Marisol is a colleague and a friend. We have interesting conversations. She's very nice."

There's an indent in Everett's cheek like he's biting it on the inside. "Nice."