Cary sat in a chair, hunched over the control board. He looked up at me as I walked in, and he didn’t smile. He had headphones on, but slipped them off.
“Hey,” I said.
He said nothing.
“I tried to reach you. To tell you I was coming over. I need to talk to you. About Courteney.”
He turned slowly to face me in his swivel chair, then sat back, looking at me. He didn’t look happy to see me, and he didn’t say anything.
“I wanted to tell you myself…” I started. The words were fucking pathetic, and I knew they weren’t enough. That nothing I could really say would be enough to make up for what I’d done.
I’d trampled over a serious line in the bro code—that shit that was encoded in every guy’s DNA and you just knew you shouldn’t fuck with.
I’d fucked with it, and we both knew it.
He should’ve probably just stood up and punched me in the face a few dozen times, and maybe we could call it even.
But that would be too easy. And even I didn’t think I deserved that—getting the beat down, or getting let off the hook.
“I… uh… should’ve told you sooner…” I rubbed my beard. I still hadn’t trimmed it or shaved.Damn, I was a mess.
I wasn’t even sure what I wanted him to do or say here.
I just knew what I had to say.
Stop being a pussy and just say it.
“Courteney and I are… together. We’re seeing each other.”
“You fucked her.”
It wasn’t a question, or an accusation. Just a plain statement of fact. AnI-know-what-you-did-because-I-saw-it-with-my-own-eyes-and-now-I-can’t-unsee-itstatement.
“Come on, man. You don’t have to say it like that. We’ve decided we want to be together. She’s my girlfriend now.”
Well. That came out too easily.
Not like she’d said she was my girlfriend, but I was pretty sure if she was here, she wouldn’t have a problem with that statement.
I was the one who’d been fighting what we were to each other all along. Trying to deny all the shit that was between us. Trying to pretend I wasn’t attracted to her. Trying to pretend it could just be about sex.
Trying to pretend I wasn’t falling for her.
Courteney was way ahead of me on all of that.
Cary just stared at me. He wasn’t making this easy, and he definitely wasn’t thrilled. But what the fuck else did I expect?
Couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen the guy genuinely smile about anything.
“I know this isn’t what you, uh, wanted,” I said, searching for the right words. Were there any right words? “I know you probably think she can do better. That I’m too old for her. Too… experienced. Too fucking jaded, maybe.”
He just stared at me, his jaw working a little.
“I know she’s still like a kid to you. But she’s not—”
“She’s eighteen.” He turned away, swiveling his chair to face the control panel again. Trying to shut me out, like he always did.
Fucking inevitable.