Page 82 of Filthy Little Secret

“And he liked you.”

I can see the hurt in his eyes.

That makes all the difference, and I know it. It would have been one thing if I’d just been another one of the guys who fell for Tim. It’s another when I’m the one he fell for.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He takes a deep breath and then drinks more of his latte, as if it’s got alcohol in it.

“I mean, it’s not your fault you fell for the guy,” he says when he finishes. “Hell, obviously I of all people can understand that. And I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little fucking jealous right now.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t want to play around and say I’m cool, but I’m your friend still. Your…recoveringfriend.”

He glares at me again, but smirks at the same time, giving me some reassurance that this can be repaired.

“So tell me about how all this got going?” he asks.

I sit down and catch him up, letting him know about how everything unfolded and how much I didn’t think we would end up in this place. By the end of it, he pats me on the back and says, “Thanks for doing this. It means a lot to me that you cared enough to come find me and talk about it. You could have just as easily been like, ‘Fuck, Keith,’ and been done with me.”

“I wouldn’t want to do that, Keith.”

He rises from the chair. “Come on. Let’s hug it out.”

I stand up and we hug.

He rubs my back, maintaining his grip for a few moments too long.

I chuckle.

“Just trying to make it as awkward as it should be,” he says.

And we laugh together.

He pulls away, the somber expression he was making before transformed into a grin.

It’s nice not feeling like I’m dragging secrets around with me.

It’s nice feeling free.

29

TIM

Icheck my button-up and tie in the bathroom mirror.

“I look stupid.”

“You look handsome,” Nanna says. She stands in the hall outside the bathroom as I check out one of the few sets of nice clothes I own—and only because Roy made me buy some so we could infiltrate some of the fraternity formals. As Nanna steps into the bathroom to adjust my tie, I note the stark contrast between what I’m wearing and her sweats and old T-shirt. While I’m out having dinner at some fancy restaurant Mark’s picked out, she’ll be keeping herself occupied with a few books she’s downloaded to her Kindle.

This is Mark’s and my first real date. A sort of cross between a date and a celebration of my job.

It’s been three weeks since I started at The Independent, a billiards bistro in Midtown. I got the lead from one of my clients. Hasn’t been too hard falling back into my old line of work. I kept dealing for Jesse a little bit just out of courtesy, but I’ve been out of the business for over a week and a half now. Jesse was bummed to lose me, but he was understanding. Said if things didn’t work out—which he assured me they would—he’d take me back. Bartending won’t put a dent in the debt. I know that. But as Nanna said when I told her I was going to be making less money now that I won’t be a bouncer anymore, “We might spend our lives trying to crawl out of a hole, but at least we’ll be doing it together.” And I think she was right. Since I started this job, I feel like I can talk to Nanna and Mark about shit. Even being underwater is better when I’m not alone.

“Maybe I should wear a T-shirt and jeans,” I say. “I don’t belong in a fucking tie.”

“Yes, you do. You look amazing, and I’m going to stand in the doorway and block you from your room until you promise me you’re going to wear it.”

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