Dylan downs his beer and extends the glass to Brian for a refill. “She seemed pretty ticked off about it. Made it sound like she was doing the world a gigantic ass favor by taking over the extra clients.”
My fist clenches around my beer. “Fuck, I never wanted Carlie to have to deal with Jillian’s ... Jillian-ness.Especially not after everything else. I should have tried to convince James to have Marc take her on when I was leaving.”
“Too late now,” Brian mutters.
Dylan leans forward, his expression serious. “Man, you can’t let Jillian or this situation dictate your next move. If you like this Carlie, you should ask her out. You’ve always been the guy who makes his own path. See where it leads. If nothing else, you could hep her find a different trainer.”
I sigh, the truth in his words resonating within me. “I know, I know. I just ... I don’t want to make things worse for her.”
“Sometimes, the risk of making things worse is worth the chance of making them right,” Brian says as he shakes a cocktail mixer—the clanging of ice temporarily drawing my attention.
Dylan clinks his glass against mine pulling my focus back to him. “You’ve got an opportunity here, Adam. Don’t waste it living in regret and what-ifs.”
Brian, who passes the cocktail to a woman at the other end of the bar, gives me a sly look. When he returns, he says, “You know, Adam, for a guy who’s usually so sure of himself with women, you’re awfully hesitant about this Carlie chick. What’s the deal?”
I shake my head, trying to mask my frustration with a half-hearted chuckle. “It’s just ...complicated, you know? With the job situation and now this IG bullshit. Seriously. Why won’t you guys drop this?”
Dylan, now with a freshly refilled beer, leans in. “Complicated, huh? Is that what they call it these days? I recall a time when‘complicated’was Adam-speak for‘I’m attracted but too stubborn to admit it.’”
I can’t help but smile, despite the turmoil inside. “All right, maybe there’s some truth to that. But it’s not just about being intrigued or stubborn. There’s a lot at stake here.”
Brian nods, adding, “Yeah, like your reputation and your heart, for starters.”
Dylan snorts into his glass. “His heart? Since when did we start talking about that mushy stuff at Jaded Brews? Aren’t we supposed to be stone-coldheartbreakers?”
I roll my eyes, but there’s a lightness in my chest that wasn’t there before. “Since my life turned into a daytime soap opera, apparently.”
Thankfully, the conversation shifts as Dylan and Brian start to reminisce about past escapades and misadventures, each story more exaggerated than the last.
They poke fun at my previous romantic endeavors, bringing up hilariously failed dates and my inability to write even the simplest of social posts without at least one misspelled word.
I find myself laughing, the sound is genuine and freeing after one of the crappiest days I’ve had in a long time. It’s moments like these, with my brother and best friend, that remind me life isn’t all doom and gloom.
Even when it feels like everything is falling apart.
Brian, joining in the laughter, suddenly turns to me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, Adam, remember that time you tried to impress that jujitsu instructor with your MMA expertise when you were nineteen?”
Dylan howls with laughter, nearly spilling his beer. “Oh man, I’d forgotten about that! She handed him his ass in the first three minutes of sparring with him.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Let’s not forget Dylan’s karaoke disaster on his birthday last year,” I say, jabbing a finger his direction.
Dylan holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, we’ve all had our moments.”
“Some more than most,” I say, shooting him a pointed look.
He only nods in agreement. “Speaking of moments … Seriously, Adam, back to Carlie. What’s your game plan?”
I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of clarity. “You know what? I’m going to talk to her. I just don’t know how to make it right with her. You know?”
Dylan snickers, then takes a quick swig of his beer. “You’re kidding, right? You’re Adam Fuckin’ Foxx, for crying out loud. Do you own your platform or what? Make a statement on your account. Go big or go home.”
I blink, surprised. “What?”
“Make it right, you big baby,” he says so flippantly, that I doubt he realizes what kind of gift he just handed me.
I look up, their words stirring something within me. A flicker of determination starts to replace the helplessness I’ve been wallowing in.
Holy shit.He’s right.