Page 23 of Tips and Trysts

“Come on,” he presses, releasing a loose chuckle. But the levity on his face fades almost as soon as it arrives when my expression doesn’t budge.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“You’re into me,” he fills in, dipping his chin like he’s willing me to comprehend it. “You like me.”

“On the contrary, I find youveryannoying.”

“But you took a bullet for me,” he repeats, tapping the side of his bandaged hand against the palm of the other.

“Why do you keep reminding me as if I don’t have a hole in my arm?”

“People don’t take bullets for—”

“For their best friend’s dickbag friend-in-law or whatever you are?I know. I’m as confused as you are.”

The silence that follows is stark. I can tell Everett’s brain is working on overdrive, replaying conversations and likely trying to figure out when he got it so damn wrong.

Either that, or he’s trying to come up with another way to remind me that I have a bullet wound in my arm, having exhausted nearly all possible options in this short conversation.

Best of luck, baby boy.

“So, you don’t like me,” he finally says. “You don’t want me.” The words are hollow with incredulity and a tinge of foreignness. The sentence doesn’t compute for him.

Everett has clearly never been rejected in his life.

I exhale slowly. “Like and want are vastly different things.”

“How?”

“Liking someone is deeper. Wanting someone is physical. I’ve wanted people who I haven’t liked.”

“Fine. Do you want or like me?”

“It’s complicated,” I admit before slumping backwards onto the pile of pillows propped behind me.

If this conversation had taken place a week ago, it would have been a cut and dry,I don’t like or want you. You’re a sanctimonious nepo baby who wears a Patek Philippe watch like a douche.If this conversation had taken place seven months ago…well, to be clear, it wouldn’t have taken place seven months ago because there was no way I would have taken a bullet for the guy who insulted me.

But this conversation is happening today. It’s happening after he warded off a creep in a dive bar. It’s happening after we made out like the world was ending in an elevator. It’s happening after he calledme, of all people, when he was panicking. It’s happening right now when he’s acting like his whole world nearly collapsed.

Like I told him earlier:I don’t know.

I don’t like Everett, but the fact of the matter is, I feelsomethingfor him. Maybe it’s a swirling mess of annoyance, attraction, indignation, and curiosity. Whatever it is, it made me save his life. I may not fully understand it yet, but I don’t regret it.

He clears his throat. “Look, I’m trying to be sympathetic because you’re in pain, but I’ve been sitting here for almost two minutes, waiting—”

“Do you want me?” I cut in before snickering. “I can’t believe I just asked that. The codeine isclearlygetting the best of me. We both know you would never want a camgirl, especially not me.”

“Who told you that?”

“You. With your unhinged behavior. If you had any affection for me and you’ve showed it by avoiding me and being a dick for seven damn months, you’re an asshole.”

Everett’s lips separate.

“Wait…do you?”

He doesn’t answer. He just continues staring, expression devoid of anything.

“You couldn’t have feelings for me unless you lied and pretended not to like me,” I go on. “Did you lie to me?”

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