Page 38 of Past the Broken Bridges

“Are you okay?” I ask, studying him. “You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping, and you smell like pot.”

Dawson shifts. “So?”

“If you want to go to a meeting, I can go with you. Screw Valentine’s Day. It’s a pointless holiday anyway.”

“I don’t need to go to a meeting,” he snaps. “I told Dixie I’d take her out, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

Since I can’t force him, I let it go. “Fine. I still don’t see why you’re taking Dixie, but I hope you two have fun.”

I start walking around him when he grabs my arm tostop me. “Shit. Wait. I’m sorry. You’re right. I haven’t been sleeping.”

He sounds genuine, so I brush off my irritation.

“I tried asking Sawyer if she wanted to hang out, but she said she wasn’t feeling good,” he explains. “And then Dixie and I were talking, and it somehow led to us making dinner plans. I didn’t even think twice about it being Valentine’s Day, and I can’t back out on her.”

My mind wraps around one thing. “What’s wrong with Sawyer?”

He eyes me in exasperation. “I don’t know, dude. Focus on the real problem. I basically agreed to take a chick out on a Valentine’s date, and I’m not prepared at all.”

I remind myself to check on Sawyer later when Dawson is gone. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

“I…” He frowns. “I don’t know. You’ve always been better when it comes to this shit. Girls are all over you all the time. For once, I want that to be me. Is that so bad?”

He honestly thinks I have it that easy? “Look, the only advice I can give you is to figure out what you want. Andwho.Because I think we both know that two friends involved with the same person can get messy. You don’t want to hurt anybody like that.”

The way you were,is what I don’t say.

Dawson sighs, scratching the column of his throat. “What if I don’t know what I want?”

“Then you’ll have to figure it out.”

He’s silent, looking back at the building. “Maybe you can find out what Sawyer’s deal is for me,” he remarks, perking up.

Is he out of his mind? I’m willing to do a lot for the guy, but not that. “What exactly do you want me to do, pass hera note that says, ‘Do you like-like Dawson Gable; check yes or no?’ I’m not doing that.”

“You live across the hall. You can tell me if she’s bringing somebody home so I’m not wasting my time.”

He wants me to spy on Sawyer? “You’re literally doing the same thing. With her friend.”

“Come on. You owe me.”

Iowehim? “When are you going to decide enough is enough? I’ve done a lot for you over the past year. Or have you forgotten?”

He doesn’t meet my eyes when he quietly murmurs, “I haven’t.”

I may not be particularly close with Dixie, but I don’t like knowing she’s some sort of consolation prize to him. We are all a part of other people’s choices in life—they either want you or don’t, which inevitably determines if you find the person who does. But there’s something in the tremor of his eyes that are still bloodshot from who knows what that tells me he’s not exactly of sound mind. I don’t want either of these girls being mixed up in something that I know from personal experience is mentally taxing.

“Just tell me if you see anything,” he says.

I relent, not that I ever plan to do that. Mostly because I don’t think he’ll give up first. “Fine. But this is the last time you tell me I owe you.”

“I’lloweyouif you can help me figure out what to get Dixie before tonight,” he bargains. “I’m short on cash, and the stores are probably picked through.”

I happen to know both of his parents put a significant amount of money into his checking account for rent and food every month. There’s no reason he can’t afford a ten-dollar box of assorted candy. “Where did the moneyyour parents gave you go?”

“Had to buy textbooks.”

Books for classes aren’t cheap, but I highly doubt that’s where his money went.

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