Page 79 of On the Line

“I’m down bad,” I finally admit.

I try not to get offended by the belly laugh that follows.

“Yeah, no shit, dude. I’m surprised no one at work has caught on with those fucking moon eyes you guys keep throwing at one another.”

“We’re not that obvious,” I shoot back.

“Oh yeah?” He leans his elbows on his knees and stares at me for a beat.

I start sweating.

“Had fun in the dry storage last week?”

Choking on the sip of beer I just took, I start coughing. “What?” I croak.

“Please,” he says, his toothy smile a little too satisfied. “Why do you think you guys didn’t get caught?” He points a thumb to his chest, then directs his index finger my way. “I’m the one who covered for your ass, you fucking horndog.”

I can’t do anything but laugh, raking my fingers through my hair.

“Oh come on, don’t be acting coy now, Oz,” he says, kicking his foot against mine. “Spill. How is she?”

I straighten up. “What? In bed?”

He shrugs. “What else, dummy.”

Grabbing his pack of smokes from the table, he pulls one out for himself, then leans over for me to fish one out too. I take my time lighting up my cigarette, carefully gathering up the words forming in my head as I rub my chin with the back of my thumb, the barely there twinkle of the stars above catching my eye.

I chew my inner lip, lost in thought, then finally speak.

“You know when you finally get something so good that your mind tricks you into believing you don’t deserve it?” Alec’s eyebrow perks up, but stays silent, knowing that it’s a rhetorical question. “But you hold on to it despite thefeeling … despite knowing you’re being selfish. Despite knowing this bright light is not meant to be yours. So you hold on to it with everything you have for the time being and soak up all the fucking goodness you can manage because you don’t want to let go of a singular piece of that feeling? Well,” I say, tapping the ash into the ashtray. “If I don’t deserve to have it for even a fuckingsecond, you, you fucking dipshit,definitelydon’t deserve to hear about it.”

Alec stays serious for a few seconds, then bursts out laughing.

“Jesus fucking Christ, dude,” he says, stubbing his cigarette. “You really are down bad.” Standing up, he pats me on the shoulder. “I’m heading to bed. See you tomorrow.”

I grunt a goodnight and listen to him leave as he slides the door closed.

I sit outside for another hour, chain-smoking and reflecting on what I just told Alec, not knowing what the hell I’m going to do about all these feelings.

32

JAMES

Iflop into a seat at the bar with a sigh next to Michelle. The Wednesday shift was slow, she got cut before me but stayed for a drink to keep Quinn company.

“Drink?” Quinn asks.

“Please,” I answer with a tired smile. “Malbec.”

They nod, turning toward our red wine selection.

As soon as we’re alone, Michelle turns to me, her chin perched on her palm, and stares.

“You know …” She narrows her brown eyes. “Something is different about you lately.”

Quinn comes back with my wine, but leaves right after, busy with another customer.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I say coyly, taking a sip of wine, looking away with a smile.

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