Page 32 of The Idiot

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Sucking in a breath, I shake off Philip’s clutches and hook my thumb under one of Jesse’s harness straps.

“Could you excuse us for a minute? I need to talk to Jesse in private.”

“Sure, love,” Philip assures me with a smile, but not without adding, “Don’t be long!” as I drag Jesse to the nearest doorway.

“Hey, what’s up?” Jesse asks, gripping my wrist and stumbling along beside me.

“You… come with me,” I grit, trying to ignore the intrigued looks we’re getting as I make my way to a nearby stairwell.

“Murph! Take it easy! You’re making my straps dig into my back,” he whines, squirming free when we reach the edge of the room.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” I scathe.

“What? I… I just told you.”

“No. I mean… That’s… How did… You can’t be here. That’s fucking ludicrous. I told you I needed space, and you freaking followed me here?”

His lower lip pouts out. “I didn’t follow you. I came on a different flight.” Watching him straighten his harness, I can’t decide whether he looks completely ridiculous or endearing. “Yours was full by the time I booked mine,” he murmurs.

“This trip cost thousands of dollars. How in the hell did you afford that? You’re like the cheapest person I know.”

Flinching, his expression turns sour with indignation regardless of how many times we’ve had the frugal conversation. His mother still does his laundry, for crying out loud. I will not feel bad about that comment. I’m still shocked he bought me that crappy coffee a few weeks ago. I should have known right then it was a red flag for his behavior that night.

“I have money. I just choose not to spend it.”

“Yeah. I know, which makes this make even less sense.”

“I cashed in on my hot tub fund. Okay?”

“What?” He talks about that hot tub project like it’s the damn Taj Mahal of construction wonders. He freaking used his hot tub money to chase after me? How… I don’t even know how to feel about that.

Wait. Of course, I do. I’m pissed. It’s not sweet or touching. It doesn’t change anything. He invaded my space—my space to get over him.

“It’s fine. I still have plenty left. Friends are more important than hot tubs. It’s no big deal,” he elaborates, making my blood pressure spike even further.

He cannot do this to me. I will not be subjected to friend guilt when I didn’t even ask for help.Help.Why in the hell doeshe think I’d need help mixing with gay men? Me and my stupid freak out comments short-circuited a wire in his addled brain.

Ugh! Why is he so needy, but not in the ways I want him to be?

“You need to leave,” I huff, trying to take a calming breath.

Scoffing, he laughs. “Um, it’d be kind of hard to do that. We’re way out to sea already.”

“Find a way. I don’t care.”

“What am I supposed to do? Jump overboard?”

All I can manage is a bland look. If I say what my brain wants me to say, I know I’ll regret it. The unspoken message must register, though.

“Murph…” he hiccups, gaping at me.

He has no right to look hurt. None. This is bonkers, even for Jesse. “Look around Jesse. What do you see?”

Brow furrowing, his gaze makes a pass over the room. “Um… dudes.” Swallowing, his brows lift. “Half-naked dudes.” Leaning in, he whispers, “Some of them are barely dressed. What’s the deal? It’s October. It’s chilly out today. Is this like a porn convention or something or is the nudity a gay thing?”

When he finally looks back at me, realizing I haven’t answered, I can feel my nostrils flare. “It’s a finger-fighting thing. More the reason you shouldn’t be here. You’re going to get yourself hit on or in trouble.”

“What? How?” He guffaws, ratcheting up my agitation another notch.

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