Page 9

Chapter Nine

Theodore

“Here you go, sir.” The waiter winks, for only me to see, as he fills up my glass of water.

He’s young, possibly not even twenty-one.

Natural dark red hair, pale skin with a dusting of freckles over his nose.

He’s attractive, but not my type. Because apparently I have a type of man now. Fuck . Why the hell do I have a type?

“Hello, Theo?”

“What? Sorry.”

“What is with you?” Marianne asks, reaching for her wine. “You sleep okay last night?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, glancing at the young waiter who walks away. I try really hard not to check him out, but I can’t help but take in the way his body is shaped. How tall he is. How bubbly his ass is.

“Not really, no.”

“You should have come over,” she says suggestively.

“I had an early meeting. ”

“It’s never stopped you before.”

She’s right, it hasn’t, but ever since that date with Tobias, I’ve been distant.

Not because I’m trying to call off the wedding, I’m just trying to figure things out.

Being inside my head is confusing, and I wish my money could buy someone to sort it out for me.

I don’t mean in the way of a therapist who I pay to talk to; I mean someone going into my brain and figuring it out for me.

“Are you mad at me or something?” I ask.

“No, of course not. You’re just… I don’t know. Different.”

“Maybe I’m getting sick.”

She nods understandingly. “Pick up some of those Vitamin C packets before you go home.”

“I’ll do that.”

My phone vibrates on the table, and I glance at it, hoping it’s an email.

It’s not.

Though, even if it were, it wouldn’t be from him , so I don’t know why I’m waiting for it.

Everything that happened between Tobias and me last week was normal for him.

It’s what he does. It’s his job. Even if he seemed like he cared at some points in the night, he didn’t.

He only cared enough to make $500 an hour worth it.

And it worked, because he tricked the hell out of me. I can’t stop thinking about him .

It’s awful, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to rent him again and make myself look like a crazy person, but he mentioned having regular customers. Maybe I can be a regular customer?

After I drop Marianne back at her place, I drive around for a bit, needing to figure out what to do about my life.

I’m more confused than ever. Which irritates me, considering I thought the date with Tobias would help.

I guess it did, in some ways. It gave me clarity.

But now that I have it, I don’t know what to do with it.

I don’t hate Marianne, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I can’t spend my life with her.

Not if I want to be happy. But what will my life turn into if I call this wedding off?

My parents aren’t the understanding type, and they’ll no doubt cut me off, fire me from my position in the company, and write me out of the will.

It’s not that I can’t get by on my own, I’m sure there are options, but that’s a big mountain to get over…

a very daunting mountain that I don’t think I could face alone.

I’m not that strong. Sure, I have Asher and Morgan to lean on, and they’d probably let me stay with them and help me get on my feet, but… it’s just not that simple.

I drive around for an hour before I find myself idling outside of The Butterfly, wondering if I should go in.

I feel like I can’t—like I shouldn’t. Like walking into that bar would be crossing a line.

It's his friends and the place they hang out together.

Renting Tobias again is one thing, almost normal, but showing up at this bar is weird .

What’s even more weird is how he brought me here in the first place.

Is it because he trusts me? Or does he just not care?

I don’t get it. Why introduce me to all these people, his friends, for nothing?

Unless he thought I’d never come back. But why would he think that?

I must not give off stalker vibes, which is a good thing, I guess.

I pull away from the curb and head across the city to the bar Morgan works at.

I don’t know if Asher will be there, but Morgan certainly will be, since she works Sunday nights.

When I get to the bar, I don’t want to go in.

So, I sit in my car in the parking lot for far too long.

I should go in. Talk to her. Have a beer.

Do something to get my mind off everything I’m worried about, but I can’t get my legs to move.

It’s stupid. All of this is pretty damn stupid.

A knock on my window startles me. There’s someone’s face in my passenger side window, so I roll it down and I’m met with Asher’s grin.

“The hell are you doing?” he asks.

“Uh, nothing?”

“Are you coming in or you just gonna sit here all fucking night?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“Come on. There are two guys inside who’ve been at it all night. I’m telling you, someone’s gonna throw a punch, and I don’t wanna miss it.”

“Well, when you tell me that…” I roll up the window and shut off the car to get out. One of our favorite pastimes is wa tching drunk people in the bar get into fights then get dragged out. They embarrass themselves and it's hilarious. Drunk people are idiots.

Asher throws his arm around my shoulders and we walk inside, right to the bar where he already got settled. His keys are on the bar top, and his coat is hanging on the back of the stool.

“Look what I found!” he announces loudly.

“Hey, Theo,” Morgan says as she pours Jameson into a glass.

“Hi,” I answer, dropping onto the stool beside Asher.

“What can I get you?” she asks, adding ginger ale.

“Shots!” Asher says, drumming his hands on the bar top.

I nod in agreement. Yes, shots would be great. Lots and lots of shots.

Morgan delivers the drink she made to its owner, then pours whiskey into the little glasses and slides us beers.

“What brings you here on a Sunday night?” she asks, leaning against the bar.

“Boredom.”

“Oh, look!” Asher whispers shouts, grabbing onto my arm and pointing toward the pool tables. “There they are. I swear, the one in the red shirt is going to knock the other guy out.”

“No way,” I say. “White shirt is so much bigger.”

“So that means he’s slower.”

“It does fucking not.”

Asher offers out his hand. “ Hundred bucks.”

I shake his hand, and we watch the two guys get chest to chest, yelling in each other’s faces. A bouncer walks over, getting between them and pushing them apart.

“This is your last warning,” he says loudly, and the moment he steps away, the guy in the red shirt lunges, throwing a punch and hitting the other guy right in the jaw.

The bouncer jumps right back in, getting the guy in the red shirt in a hold and dragging him out.

The guy in the white shirt is bleeding, but conscious.

There’s a girl checking on him, while another guy in a grey shirt is shouting after red-shirt guy, threatening to fuck him up.

I glance back at Asher, and hold out my hand, palm up. “You lose.”

“No way! Did you not see what just happened?”

“You said red-shirt was going to knock out white-shirt, and he is still very much awake. Therefore, you lose.” I tap my pointer finger against my palm. “Now pay up.”

"That's bullshit," Asher complains.

"Choose your words better," I say with a smirk.

He narrows his eyes, then relents. “Fine, but I’m paying you in drinks.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

I don’t need the money, and we both know it, but it’s not about the money. It’s about holding Asher to his word because he’s a snake.

“How’s your brother?” I ask, trying to make small talk as I reach for my shot and slide the other to him .

“Miserable prick, as usual,” he mutters as he brings his shot to his lips.

“Here’s to bar fights,” I say.

He chuckles and we take the shots. I hiss before gulping a mouthful of beer to wash away the taste. I don't know why I do so many shots when they taste like shit.

The bouncer comes back in, taking up his spot against a wall that overlooks the pool tables. Everyone is back to playing, almost like they forgot what happened.

“What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” Asher asks.

“Same shit as usual. Grand feast at my parents' house. You?”

Asher frowns at me with pity in his eyes.

He knows how strained my relationship is with my family.

I've been friends with him a long time, and since he doesn't come from some prestigious family, he's dealt with the looks and remarks from my parents same as me.

So many times growing up I wish I could have been his brother, that I had his loving parents.

“Our parents are coming over, but they probably won’t stay long. Not sure if Max will stop by or not, but probably. Morgan's sister won’t.”

“Family sucks,” I mutter, reaching for my beer.

“Don’t I know it?” He finishes his beer, sliding the glass to the end of the counter.

When Morgan comes by, she fills it for him.

Mine is still half full, so she leaves it.

I don't really feel like getting drunk tonight.

It feels like one of those nights I'll drink until I'm sick but never get drunk .

“We should find some time to pick out our tuxes,” I say.

“Did Marianne finally decide on a color?”

“Mauve,” I say with an eye roll.

“Mauve?” he asks, visibly shivering. “What the fuck kind of color is that? It sounds old.”

“Pale purple.”

“So why the fuck can’t they just call it pale purple?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Women,” he mutters, shaking his head and grabbing his beer.

Fucking, tell me about it.

“So, I, uh… went on a date with one of those guys," I carefully say.

Asher stills, turning his head toward me so slowly it’s comical, brow raised. “And you’re only telling me this now ?”

I shrug, grabbing my beer to empty the glass. Morgan takes it right away to fill. She's an attentive bartender. That, mixed with being hot, makes her a killing in tips.

“It was only a week ago.”

“Only a week—fucking hell, Theo. A week may as well be a damn year. What happened? Did you fuck him?”

“Jesus, Asher. Shut up. I already told you they aren’t prostitutes.”

He scoffs. “As if I believe that.”

“Well, believe it, because he’s not. In fact, he was very professional.”

“Bor-ring,” he says .

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“You haven’t told me anything. What happened?” he demands.

I hold his gaze, and since I had the bright idea to spill this secret, I’m going to have to tell him the rest or he’ll never shut up. So, I tell him what happened, and when I’m done, all he looks is disappointed.

“So, no sex?”

“Fuck off,” I mutter, getting to my feet. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Hard just thinking about him, huh?” he calls after me, and I hold up my middle finger.

That man is… a lot, but he’s my best friend and I love him.

Though, some days it feels like I tolerate him because I have no one else.

Though they're both my friends, Asher and I are closer because we're guys and Morgan kind of does her own thing.

She has a whole other set of friends that she hangs out with.

I quickly do my business in the bathroom, and as I wash my hands, I stare at myself in the mirror, not recognizing who the hell I am.

Everything on my face is familiar. My green eyes are bright, hair perfectly styled as usual.

My clothes are wrinkle free. I know this person… on the outside. But who the hell am I?

My whole life has been dictated and planned out.

There was a schedule in place, thanks to my parents.

The expectations were laid out, and I always knew what was coming.

I’ve gotten by for so long like that, but suddenly it seems…

wrong. I feel like a puzzle piece that was squished into a spot it doesn’t belong.

I’ll be fine for a while, until I’m needed elsewhere.

There’s a different piece that’s supposed to be where I am… I belong somewhere else.

What will happen if I choose to stray from the life that’s been forced upon me? There’s a lot at stake. Is it worth the risk? Is happiness worth more than the comforts my family gives me? Can I survive without their support?

I didn’t have a terrible life. My parents were good parents.

They could have been more loving, more comforting, and around more, but I don’t have a ton of complaints.

They didn’t abuse me or treat me like crap.

Sure, they were tough at times, but only because they wanted what’s best. Can I really repay them for all of that by throwing everything they've given me in their faces? I mean, they’re giving me everything they’ve worked hard to get.

My father built his company from nothing, and now it’s everything.

One of the top-ranking tech companies in Seattle. Could I be any more ungrateful?

Part of me knows this isn’t about them. It’s my life and I should do what I want. I shouldn’t have to repay them for raising me, their child. I didn't ask for all this; they're choosing to give it. It's their plan.

And what about Marianne? What would this do to her? If I called everything off, how would it change her life?

She’s carefree, and not overly in love with me in the way she looks at me with hearts in her eyes.

She doesn’t think I hung the moon for her, but we’re comfortable together.

She talks about our life the way my family does.

I don’t think she loves me any more than I love her, and maybe she doesn’t love me at all.

She’s just accepted this is what our life is.

We were raised closely, and we’ve been friends since we could walk.

Doesn’t she want more than what I have to give her? If she knew she could have true love, be with someone who made her the happiest person in the world, would she take it?

Then I have to consider what I’m giving this all up for. There isn’t someone in my life I’m leaving Marianne for. So, I’m just going to say, “ Sorry, but I think I’m gay, so I’m calling off the wedding. Good luck.”?

What do I do from there? I don’t know how to be gay.

Hell, I don’t know how to do anything outside of my routine.

I've lived a sheltered life, and because we had money, my father paid people to do everything for us. I probably couldn’t even change a tire on a car if I needed to, and that’s ridiculous because I love cars.

I used to hide car magazines under my mattress.

I’m smart, I’m sure I could figure it out, but that’s not the point.

Can I live like this forever? I’m sure I could, but… do I want to? I keep going back to one question: is it worth it?

I shake my head, running my damp hands through my hair before heading out of the bathroom and back to the bar to get another drink. Once I sit down, I pull out my phone and secure another date with Tobias. There’s only one way to know if leaving this all behind is worth the risk…