Page 38 of The Idiot

“Dude, are you alright?” Jesse whispers, eyeballing me like I’m about to pass out.

I do not want to spend another evening with Philip fixed to me like a barnacle. He stuffed his hand in my back pocket this morning while we were strolling around the deck like my ass was aLoJackdevice. This cruise is starting to feel like a violation. The only thing that could save me is a cockblocker, but I haven’t even had a minute to talk to anyone else here besides Jesse.

Besides… Jesse…

“Hug me,” I blurt. Before he can respond, I wrap my arms around him, tucking my face in close to his.

“Murph?” he asks, sounding confused even as his hand pats my back like it’s instinct from years of friendship. Nothing has ever felt more comforting.

“Stage five clinger,” I reiterate. “I’m cashing in on your moral support offer if it still stands. I’m sorry I was a dick. Just… please, don’t leave me.”

CHAPTER 9

Jesse

Murph is hugging me. Like really hugging me. It’s not one of our bro hugs. It’s like our goodbye hug when he left for the Army, the one when he came back, and the one we shared the day his dad died. It’s the kind of hug you give someone you can’t live without.

I’ve got my friend back.

Wrapping my arms around his back, I squeeze, smiling into his shoulder. After feeling like he practically disappeared from me for the past month, the warmth of his body and the hard plains of his chest pressed against mine are more profound than ever. He feels more real, like a missing piece that’s been reunited with my body, my life.

I guess it’s true how they say that you don’t truly appreciate something until you’ve lost it. I thought I appreciated him, even going as far as following him here to repair things and show my support, but getting a Murph hug like this puts things more into perspective. He should have been able to tell me about the part of his life that I was unaware of, but because he wasn’t able to, I have to accept the fact that it means I was doing something wrong. I don’t want to live another minute ofour friendship with blinders on. I’m never going to take him for granted again.

“I’ll never leave you,” I whisper. “You’re stuck with me.”

The tension in his body softens, giving me a thrill that my words had that effect on him. I matter.To him. We’re stillus, and maybe nothing was ever ruined at all.

The sound of a throat clearing comes crashing down on our homecoming. Shit. I forgot all about this Philip guy. He arches one of his tweezed brows, his gaze fixed on me where I’m peering over Murph’s shoulder. Is he giving me the stink eye?

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, clearly a loaded question that has a touch-him-and-die ring to it as he props his hands on his hips.

Damn. Murph wasn’t kidding. What’s it been—like, two days—and this guy has laid claim to him already?

Um, hello! Best friend here. I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer than you, little fella.

Drawing his arms back, my victory hug evaporates as Murph turns slowly around. “Oh… Philip. Hi. How’s it going?”

The phony surprise in his voice has me holding back a snicker. Murph might be a hell of a fly fisherman, but he’s shit at acting.

Arms folded across his button-laden chest, Philip’s teal glitter-polished nails are a stark contrast to his pale arms. “You said you were going to meet me in the Crosby Lounge,” he informs him haughtily.

“Um, no. I said Imightcheck outoneof the loungesoneday. I’m sorry if there was a misunderstanding.”

Philip’s steely gaze settles on Murph’s table and then he peers around at mine. A tendril of panic flickers through me, watching the relief wash over his face.

Crap. Murph and I weren’t sitting together, and he knows it.

Huffing, his chin hitches up an inch higher. He studies his nails, looking bored, and shrugs. “Well, I forgive you. There’s still time to catchJustice Leagueon the big screen in the lounge though, if we hurry. Are you ready to go? It smells like a sewage plant in here.”

I flinch at that bit of whip-cracking. Damn. This guy is feisty. If I tried to talk to Murph like that, he’d put me in one of his headlocks.

It’s surreal to see the abject difference of his reaction to Philip’s sass. The tension is rolling off of him like a distress signal. If I were a mother bobcat, his silent fear would be equivalent to a baby’s scream. I feel it to my protective core like aSpideysensethat’s been awakened. I swear he’s sweating and has forgotten to breathe. What the heck did Philip do to my friend?

Sizing Philip up, I may not know shit about gay guys or what exactly Murph was expecting from me when he told me about his sexuality, but I know what to do now to help, and the realization is as uplifting as when Delores is on the open road with the windows down. If Philip no longer thinks I’m a threat because Murph and I weren’t elbow to elbow over dinner, I just need to get him back to stink-eye level before he steamrolls Murph into a movie marathon. Besides, no one’s going to look down their sparkly nails at me like I can’t hug my best friend.

Slinking my arm around Murph’s waist, I squeeze in close to his side. “That sounds great, actually! What do you say we head down there after we finish up our dinner, babe?”

I’m still trying to determine how the word ‘babe’ feels on my lips directed at a dude when Murph looks at me like I’ve just grown a tit on my forehead. Smiling like I’m smitten andrubbing my chin against his shoulder like a nuzzling cat, I bat my lashes, hoping he’ll pick up what I’m laying down.Best friend rescue mission in action!

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