Maybe Once, Maybe Twice(36)

“Do what?”

“Bring up shit while some guy you’re sleeping with waits for you on the other side of the bar.”

Garrett stared at me and shrugged, again.

My mouth fell open as thunder trembled to the surface. I pressed my hand over my pounding chest. Holy. Fuck. He had the nerve to be mad at me because I was happy with someone else.

“That’s not fair. I’ve watched you with woman after woman. Do you think that’s been easy for—” I stopped myself from going further. This was the closest I had ever come to telling Garrett how I felt about him, and I could feel the truth flying too close to the sun. My eyes darkened, shifting me back to a place that couldn’t burn me—the storm. “You can’t just play it cool the one time you meet a guy I like?”

Garrett didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed locked on mine.

“He’s not for you.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” I said forcefully, an inch from his face.

Garrett studied my expression, tears in my eyes, and all at once, his shoulders dropped. He inhaled and shook his head slightly, as if appalled by how we got here.

“You’re right. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“You and I: we’re friends. Best friends.”

“I know,” he said.

“So don’t do this. Don’t do this when it’s convenient for you, and not for me. That’s not fair.”

We both knew what the this was. The this was one of us actually telling the other how we felt. The this was the elephant in the room of our friendship.

“You’re right. And I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole. It’s no excuse, I’m just having a rough couple months. I feel like I’m losing grip on—on the stuff I thought that would always be there. The music, and…” He trailed off, open palm in my direction. “It’s stupid, I—” His voice cracked, and he glanced up to the ceiling, begging vulnerability to stay inside his throat. Garrett swallowed his emotions whole and turned back to me with a smile shining through. “I’m fine. Go have fun.”

“Come here, you big idiot.”

I wrapped my arms around Garrett’s tall body. He didn’t move for a long moment, which made me squeeze him tighter. Finally, I felt his body exhale inside my grip, and his arms folded around me, hugging me back.

“I’m happy that you’re happy,” he said, genuinely.

“I know you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him,” he lied.

“He’s not forever, Garrett.”

“I know,” he whispered into my ear, without skipping a beat.

I tilted my head up at Garrett, stunned and slightly horrified. I had just admitted to the outside world, and to myself, that I wasn’t deeply in love with my boyfriend, and I never would be. And the kicker? Garrett already knew.

Garrett grinned, reading my wide eyes and folding a stray curl behind my ear. “I know, because I know you.” His grip loosened around me. “Go have fun, Maggie May.”

I gently stepped out of his hold. “Only if you come have fun with me.”

“Well, of course. I’m the essence of your fun.”

I elbowed him in the stomach as he laughed, and we walked back toward the bar’s main room.

“A little TJ’s action this Monday?” I asked.

“I was just thinking that I hadn’t made fun of your beer choices in four months.”

“Usual time?”

“Can we make it eight thirty? I don’t get out of the office until—”

“Say no more. For you, I will miss The Bachelor.”

“What a sacrifice.”

“I’m basically Mother Teresa.”

He smiled at me—a big one—and we entered the main room where, in the corner of the bar, Blaire, Summer, and Shira shared a laugh. I watched them with a head tilt.

“Are you really going to have a threesome?”

“Come on.” Garrett waved it off. “I’m not having a threesome. Two women? Naked? I’d come in like, five seconds.”

I countered his head shake with a knowing smirk. “You would totally have a threesome if the offer presented itself.”

A grin broke across his gorgeous face. “Totally,” he admitted.

I rolled my eyes at him and kept walking. He was a few steps behind me when I froze in place and turned around.

“Hey, Garrett?”

“Yeah?”

“If it happens, I don’t want to hear about it.”

He sucked in a grin, staring at me for a long moment, as if comforted by my request.

Across the room, I watched as Drew cut through the crowd with my beer in hand, frowning as he navigated a sea of people who refused to count personal space as a virtue. Garrett turned to see where my attention had gone to.

Garrett’s raised brow met mine—those ocean-blue eyes and half grin silently screaming what I already knew: I could do better. Better’s shoulder playfully bumped against mine, and all at once, the backs of our hands were touching in a dark room. Neither of us moved. I tugged my eyes away from Garrett, staring ahead, chest pounding, arms limp at my sides. My throat went dry as I felt his fingers curl around mine. We weren’t exactly holding hands, but we weren’t not holding hands, and we stayed like that, maybe holding hands, until the very second Drew outstretched a beer toward me.