Page 35 of Regal Feather
That would be a problem for future Ev to figure out, though. Present Ev was all about the present. And his best friend duties, which did not include a man I knew very little about, even though I felt like he knew me better than most people. It was just sub frenzy.
That was what Erika would say, and I trusted her judgment more than I did mine.
“Okay…” He nudged my thigh with his knee. “What has you so in your head, then?”
I huffed. “I told you. I’m going to be a good friend now.”
“You said that,” he hedged. “Doesn’t mean I understood what you meant by it. Still don’t.”
I scowled. It wasn’t aimed at him, but I needed to let out the frustration somehow. “I don’t want my parents here.”
“Okay.” Was he going to stop saying okay to everything? It was beginning to grate on my nerves. “Why?”
“Because,” I grunted. “First, they’re going to have opinions on me, and my new wardrobe, and all that. They’re going to look disappointed, and probably voice it, too. And then, they’re going to forget I exist and just treat you like the long lost son they think you are.”
Lashing out was an incredibly healthy coping mechanism. Who thought the opposite?
“You know I never let them do that.”
He sounded wounded, too. Of course I was going to keep fucking up.
I shook my head. I had to… I didn’t know.
Figure out a way to not be my shitty self, who couldn’t hold conversations like a normal person.
“I’m sorry.” I sighed. “I’m…not good company right now. I’m going to text the group chat. Maybe they can come.”
“What, because I need babysitting?”
“No?”
Kind of, though. He was sad, and I was only hurting him more. And I wanted him to like my friends, and I wasn’t good at bringing different groups of friends together because it wasn’t anything I’d had to do before. It had always been Santos, and then the people at Plumas. No one else had been there to act as training wheels.
“Ever.” He pushed the muffin away. I couldn’t see past the rim of the mug. Maybe he had finished it already. He ate faster than I did, and it didn’t make my stomach churn too much ifI thought of it in terms of he’d already finished it, rather than he had pushed it aside because he didn’t like it. “Babes. Look at me.”
“I’m looking at you.”
I was looking at the spot where his shirt was all wrinkled on top of his sweatpants, but it was technically him.
“Fine. Wanna snuggle some more?”
“I just said?—”
“Okay. I’ll be in my room, then. You can do whatever.”
Doing whatever was not a phrase I ever knew how to interpret. As soon as he rinsed the mug and put it in the dishwasher, though, that was what he did. There might’ve been some hesitation in his step, but he took the stairs two steps at a time, and I heard the retreating footsteps into the room that was farthest from the stairwell.
Fuck.
I wasn’t good at social stuff. Clearly.
What made me think that this would be good? This stuff didn’t happen when we were in school. Mostly because we were both equally scared kids away from everything, and there was nothing standing in the middle. Now, Santos was a fully fledged adult, and I was just me.
Not enough and too much, all in the same breath.
twelve
Sir Ismael
