Page 52 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)
Elliot
My best friend was interested in men.
The man I’d loved for the better part of my life was interested in men.
But not me. That implication was clear as day. Despite how my best friend was now into men, he still wasn’t into me. No, that was reserved for a guy named Loren. I hated Loren.
Really, I was just jealous of him. He had the one thing I wanted—the one thing I’d never have.
I swallowed hard as I stared up at the cloudy afternoon sky.
I didn’t want to go home, and I didn’t want to go see Eva.
That would be better done when I wasn’t so inside my head.
No, I wanted to drink. A lot. But I didn’t want to do it alone, so I called the one person who made sense for an endeavor like this.
“ Are we about to make this twenty-four blowjobs? ” Rhett asked when he answered the phone.
“Fuck, I wish,” I grumbled.
“ What? ”
“Look,” I said, clearing my throat before I continued with more awkward shit, “I know we’re not friends and that you’re just the firehouse’s unofficial mechanic, but is there a chance you’d like to get a drink with me?
I need to talk to someone, and I need a fucking drink like my life depends on it. ”
The silence on the other end wasn’t encouraging. It lingered for so long that I almost rescinded my request.
“ Why the hell not? ” He sighed. “ It’s not like the muses are talking to me anyway. ”
“The what?” That was the second time I’d heard him say that, and I didn’t have a clue what it meant.
“ I’m at my studio, and this slab of clay won’t talk. ” The words coming out of his mouth made no sense.
“It what?”
“ I’m a sculptor. ”
“I thought you were a mechanic,” I retorted.
“ I am, ” Rhett replied. “ I do both. Wait until you find out I’m in a band. ”
“You’re so wildly fascinating,” I commented in awe. “I’ll text you the bar. Get ready for a fuck ton of day drinking.”
“ Sounds good, ” he said before hanging up.
As I walked down the block to my usual bar, I texted the location to Rhett. At least with him on the way, I wouldn’t feel as bad if I started.
And boy did I fucking start. I was onto my third beer by the time Rhett joined me. I pushed the full glass in his direction and flagged down the waitress for more.
“Want to tell me what’s got you all worked up?” Rhett asked.
“You know that friend I’m in love with?” I began, not saying a word to the waitress as I accepted another drink.
The beer tasted like crap, but that didn’t stop me from gulping down a third of the glass before I continued.
“Turns out, he’s not so straight. He’s bi-curious or bi-sexual or something.
Either way, he’s got a wife, and he’s now got a boyfriend. And it’s not me.”
“I’d hazard a guess that you just found out.”
“Yup. I took your advice and signed up for that stupid app. Turns out he’s on that app and talking to men on that app.
He has a boyfriend—a partner on top of having a wife.
And neither of them is me.” The beer was definitely amplifying my bitter feelings.
I was on a fucking roll, and Rhett just sat there as I ranted it all out.
“I’ve pined for that fucking man for my whole goddamn life thinking that there wasn’t a chance in hell he could ever like me because I have a dick.
Well, guess what? He likes dick! The man likes dick!
And you know what? I’m still not good enough.
I will never be good e nough for him. I wasn’t even good enough for him to tell!
I had to find out through a fucking app. A fucking app, Rhett!”
“To play devil’s advocate here, do you think maybe he wasn’t comfortable telling you?” Rhett took a sip of his beer while I made a face. “You’re thinking why, aren’t you?”
“You bet your probably tattooed ass, I fucking am! Gay man! I like dick! I love dick.” I gestured to all of myself. He chuckled, and I noticed how heads turned my way. I waved them off as I barked, “There’s nothing to see! Just a grumpy fucking gay man! Find some other source of entertainment.”
“I should go drinking with you more often,” he said, grinning. “You’re prime entertainment.”
“I’m a riot usually,” I informed him. “And not pining over my not-straight best friend.”
“Next time. Going back to my point, I get that you like dick—I think the whole bar knows now—but this is a whole new thing for your best friend,” he said. “I mean, he’s what? Your age? So, old as fuck—”
“Hey, now!” I exclaimed as I frowned deeply at the insult. “I’m not that old! I haven’t even hit forty yet!”
“Either way,” Rhett continued loudly over me, cracking a grin, “this guy thought he had his whole fucking life figured out, you know?
Wife, job, friends, identity, the whole nine yards.
Can you imagine thinking you have it all figured out and then one day…
bam ! One moment changes fucking everything?
“I tried to kiss him,” I interjected. Rhett faltered, eyes narrowing while he considered me. Judged me? Oh, he was definitely judging me for my stupidity. “To be fair, I was really drunk when I did it.”
Drunk enough to lose my inhibitions, but not drunk enough to forget it. That day had stuck in my head—played on repeat late at night when I was lonely and my dick was in my hand. Admittedly, not my best moment in life. But I never dreamed that it’d come back to bite me in the ass like this.
“Either way, his entire life just went up in flames, Elliot,” Rhett continued as he ignored my admission. “I don’t know. It sounds fucking miserable to me.”
I glared at him. Damn man made sense. The problem was that I did get it, especially when he put it that way.
Logan was all order and structure and that kind of shit.
He’d had his whole life plotted before we ever started high s chool, and he’d hit every one of those goddamn milestones. Who the hell did that?
This sudden wrench in his plan probably had him a fucking mess.
No, I knew it had him a mess. It just killed me that he wouldn’t let me be there for him.
I could learn to live with the whole not wanting me thing.
I’d dealt with that for my whole fucking life.
I’d get over the sting of not being wanted, even with Logan dating men.
But not telling me? Not thinking I could support him through it all fucking hurt. Our friendship was supposed to be stronger than that.
“I hate you and your smart mechanic-sculptor-band man logic,” I muttered into my beer. “I don’t want to see it from his point of view. I want to sulk and hate the universe for laughing at me because I’m in love with my now non-straight best friend, who still doesn’t want me. Just let me have this.”
“I’m all in for miserable moping,” he replied. “God fucking knows I’ve sat at one too many bar stools doing just that. We need more beer and one hell of a shitty cheers phrase for the night.”
Oh, that sounded fun. I pondered it.
“To unrequited love,” I said all too loudly, holding up my beer, “may karma fuck her in the ass because she sucks.”
“Here, here.” Rhett clinked his glass to mine.
“I know you don’t care, but I appreciate your enthusiasm,” I told him after I downed my glass.
“Friends don’t let friends drink alone,” he replied with a shrug.
“Are we friends?”
“I think twenty-three blow job jokes between us means we are. I also think firehouse confessionals have made us friends as well.”
“To twenty-four hours of blow jobs!” I clinked my glass on the table. When he opened his mouth to say something, I waved him off. “You know we’ll get there. I keep hitting curbs, and Agatha can’t take a beating. Drink !”
“Okay, in you go, pole master.” Rhett steadied my arm as the cab swayed. Damn driver needed to keep the car straight.
“Oh, wait… I’m not straight,” I said, hearing the slur in my words.
“ We know, cupcake,” he retorted.
“The world is wobbly—why are you calling me cupcake?” I squinted at him. He wasn’t straight either.
“Because around drink six, you demanded fancy nicknames as a part of your mope fest, hose-meister,” he told me. When had I done that? “I’m trying here, marshmallow.”
“I like cupcakes,” I replied. “I don’t remember that.”
“After eight fucking drinks and a few shots, no one is surprised, babycakes.” He chucked. “Duck your goddamn head. Shit, you are tall.”
“So tall!” I exclaimed and flopped into the backseat. I sighed. “The seat is warm.”
“Give the man your address, sunshine,” Rhett ordered.
“You’re bossy.”
“You like it.”
“I don’t like it. I like to be the bossy one.”
“Well, when you’re sober, sugar ears, you can be the bossy one.” He pointed at the driver, and I waved at the grumpy man behind the wheel. “Give him your fucking address.”
“C’mere,” I whispered loudly, beckoning Rhett closer. When he did, I admitted, “I don’t remember my address.”
“Wallet. Now,” he replied and held out his hand.
Groaning, I managed to get my hand out of my pocket with my wallet in hand.
I whistled to myself as he talked to the cab driver on my behalf.
When fingers snapped in my face, I blinked.
“Hey, you don’t feel like you’re going to throw up, do you, smut slut? ”
“Smut slut.” I giggled. “If only you knew what I read.”
“I do. You read me many excerpts around beer six as well. Do you feel like you’re going to throw up? The guy wants to know before he pulls away from the curb with your drunk ass,” Rhett said.
“You’re handsome, did you know that?” I told him instead.
“I did. I put it on all my resumes. Going to throw up?”
“No, but I want waffles with peanut butter and ice cream.” Did I have ice cream? “Oh, and chocolate chips.”
“You can have that tomorrow when you’re sober. Stay in the car, stay quiet, leave the man alone, and he’ll make sure you get home just fine,”
“Deal,” I said. “We’ll do this again.”
“You got it, Daddy Shark. Get some sleep tonight, Elliot,” Rhett ordered. Bossy man. Patting the roof of the cab, he shut the door.
In silence, I watched the blur of lights go by as the cab driver drove. He wanted nothing to do with my drunk ass—probably couldn’t blame him. It gave me time to take my phone out of my jacket and look at the one text message I was avoiding.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, Logan had texted.
LOGAN : You okay?
Oh, that was a loaded question. Not that I’d tell him that. No, we weren’t sharing things like that.
Yup.
If I was lucky, he’d be asleep.
LOGAN : You’re a shit liar, Elliot.
Fuck, I wasn’t that lucky. I sighed.
I know.
LOGAN : Can we talk about it?
I just need you to pretend and let me be okay this time.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tipped my head against the cab window. I wasn’t okay. I wanted to rip my heart out of my chest and toss it down the nearest sewer drain. If I didn’t have it, I didn’t have to feel anything. Not feeling would make this whole thing so much easier.
LOGAN : Okay. I’m here if you need me.
Okay. I’ll see you when I see you.
I knew I’d be okay. I’d get over it. I was used to people leaving.
My dad had left us for his barely legal secretary.
His family had left us like we meant nothing, to begin with.
My mom would vanish for months at a time to chase whatever whim she had, and when she wasn’t gone, she was always working.
Her family had walked out because they were over her antics—me, her teenage love child, being one of them.
Friends came and left. Coworkers too. Nobody stayed.
But Logan had been the one constant in my life.
I’d spent a lifetime clinging to him. It’d been easy to love him and not feel the pain because we were parallel lines running different courses that would never cross.
But now? That possibility was there and somehow…
somehow that made all that fucking hurt come back with a vengeance.
I wanted Logan to love me the way I loved him, but he’d never be mine. I just had to learn to accept that and move on, even if that meant distancing myself from him.