“Is that why you wanted to meet? To bitch me out for being a shit husband?”
“No, we needed to meet so I could make sure you’re ready to host our son’s party, but seeing as you’re here…” Mina’s eyes still shone with mirth. It was rare that she rose to my tendency to turn shithead when things didn’t go my way. “Anyway, did you order the cake? The party bags? What about balloons?”
“Um…”
“Isha. The party is on Sunday.”
“I know, I know, I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to arrange your son’s birthday party?”
Actually yes, but I was always busy. The reason I hadn’t moved forward with the arrangements was because doing so would involve contacting Jude, and I wasn’t in the mood for his rejection.
Right. So you were going to ask him through Grindr if the shop has room for a two-tier king cobra cake? Nice.
I amazed myself sometimes. Jude had sacked me off on a personal level—as personal as Grindr ever got. It had nothing to do with business. Or cake. I sighed. “It’s in hand, I promise.”
It wasn’t, but Mina knew me well enough to be fairly certain I’d pull it off at the last minute. She left, and I went back to staring at my phone, but this time, it was emails from the water board that held my attention. I almost forgot to check Grindr one last time.
Almost, because, despite my best intentions, I was all over that shit.
I opened the app, half an eye still on the red stamped letters from Anglian Water until I saw my notifications had changed. I had a new message. From Jude.
My heart skipped so hard I swear it left a dent in my chest. Pulse racing, I opened the message, bracing myself for another rebuke.
dragon89:Sorry for being a dick. It was weird having you in the shop after…that. See u at the party.
I read the message three times, then flopped back in my seat. Well that was…interesting. Jude hadn’t struck me as the type who apologised for much, so I had to wonder what had changed. It had been three days since he’d sent thefuck umessage, and there had been no doubt in my mind that he’d meant it.
My fingers hovered over the keypad. Barely five minutes had passed since I’d resolved to keep our communication professional, and now here he was, apologising for something that now made complete sense. On Grindr. Where all I could see of him was the flawless torso I’d spent a whole night digging my teeth into.
Life was but a fucking dream.
stacked81:It’s fine. Wasn’t exactly a regular situation. Gonna email you some stuff about the party. Cheers, Isha.
I regretted it as soon as I’d sent it, mourning the loss of the filthy thrill interacting on Grindr always left me with, and I didn’t expect a reply, but my phone buzzed as I put it down.
dragon89:Can you text me instead? I don’t read my emails
Another message with a phone number followed up before I could blink, and my heart restarted the thumping tattoo that seemed to be my constant companion whenever my tenuous connection with Jude was activated. He did something to me I couldn’t explain, and saving his number into my phone turned my brain upside down.
The sensation was fleeting, and yet profound. I set my phone back on the table and sucked in a breath. Fucking idiot. It wasn’t as though Jude was offering the hand of friendship, and even if he was, would I take it?
I had enough friends.
* * *
Jude
Isha didn’t reply to my message. I tried to convince myself I didn’t give a shit. But I did. And I resented how much of my time I’d wasted on thinking about it. Isha didn’t deserve it, and yet somehow, here I was, avoiding Grindr like the plague, and checking my phone every ten minutes.Loser.
I couldn’t even pinpoint when my brain had shifted from believing Isha was a cheating wanker, to wondering if I’d made assumptions that might not be true. Or why I cared. I rarely revisited a Grindr hook up; it was bad luck that Isha was still in my life. And come Sunday, it would be over. He’d go back to his world—wherever it was—and I’d stay, stagnating, in mine.
Frustration burned in my veins like acid. I tossed my phone into a drawer in the back room, and spent the rest of the day escorting school children around my spider cave.
I liked children. Their fascination with my work kept me upright on my bad days, but prolonged periods interacting with them was fucking exhausting. By the time I said goodbye to the last group from the primary school up the road, I was done.
Shame I had a million things to do before I could go home.