Page 62 of That One Moment

“Well he’s not here, is he?” I snap. “And he hasn’t said he’s coming back so…here we are.” I wave my hands around the room as if that’ll show Darius how devoid the space is of Jamie.

“You are such a child when you’re heartbroken,” he jokes, guiding me to the kitchen where he starts fiddling with the kettle.

“I’m not heartbroken. I’m…” What am I? Hurt? Disappointed? Embarrassed? A stupid fucking fool who went and caught feelings for his dead brother’s boyfriend, who lives hours away and has a girlfriend and a whole other life? Yeah, that fits.

“You’re heartbroken. But babe, he only left because his best friend needed him. I’d like to think you’d do the same for me.” Darius fills two mugs with tea and adds water then heads to the fridge, where he will be disappointed to find I have no milk. Feeling petty, I don’t tell him.

“I promise if you go into early labour and need a birthing partner, I’ll be there for you,” I reply dryly while also feeling like an ass because Darius is right, Jamie had a good reason to go home. Sage was only thirty-five weeks pregnant when she went into labour. She was scared and alone - the baby's father not in the picture, and her family either too far away or needed by their own families to be there for her.

All I know from his brief message that came through the next morning was that both Sage and the baby were fine. He tried to call me, but I ignored it, too caught up in my own feelings and the fact that he left without a proper goodbye.

“Don’t be a dick. You know what I mean.” Darius adds a hefty helping of sugar to the black tea and hands me a cup. It’s bothbitter and far too sweet when I finally take a sip. Darius winces then spits his out and empties it into the sink. “Have you at least spoken to him since he left? My guess is he misses you too.”

“You met him once, you can’t possibly know that.” I wash up the dirty mugs, dry them and pack them away.

Darius shrugs. “He was an open book with eyes only for you. I know what I know.”

The truth is, Jamie has tried. He’s sent me messages to see how I am, a few to apologise for leaving abruptly before we had a chance to talk, and lately some that say how pissed off he is that I’m not replying. He’s never mentioned me coming to him, not after I flat out refused, and I haven’t asked him to come back. I tell myself that it’s because Jamie is where he’s meant to be, where he was always meant to be, and not that I’m afraid he’ll say no and confirm the fear I have that we were nothing more than a fling. Two hurt, sad, lonely guys finding temporary comfort in each other.

He was never mine to have.

“Whatever,” I quip. “To answer your question, no, I haven’t spoken to him. He’s not my boyfriend, we fucked a few times and then he went back to his actual life. He doesn’t need a fuck up like me in it.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince myself or Darius, but the look he gives me tells me it’s not working on him.

“You’re such a stubborn shit,” Darius muses while typing something on his phone. “Firstly, you’re not a fuck up. A fucking pain, sure, but not a fuck up. Secondly, it wouldn’t hurt you to be vulnerable with him -tellhim that you want to see him. Pushing Jamie away is making you miserable, which in turn is making me miserable.” Darius points between us. “So at the end of the day it’s in everyone’s best interest that youcallhim.”

“Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t realise this was about you,” I say jokingly.

He continues to type on his phone before adding, “All jokes aside, look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have very strong feelings for the guy? And that you don’t wish you two were together? Tell me that all of this,” he waves one hand in front of me, “isn’t you pining for him.”

When I only look at my feet he huffs. “See, I knew it. He’s not going to show up at your door because he probably thinks you don’t want him around. Ghosting someone will give them that impression. Not to mention he’s winning friend of the year down there playing pseudo-dad.”

God, I hate it when Darius is right and I hate that I miss Jamie so much too.

“My friend, the ball is in your court.” He shows me his phone screen. “I’m ordering pizza and ice-cream to help myself feel better about your poor choices.”

My own phone buzzes from its spot on the kitchen counter and we both look at it to see an incoming message from Oliver flash up on the screen.

I snatch it up. “Maybe a nice hard fuck is just what I need.” The thought of another man touching me turns my stomach but I ignore my best friend and the warning in his voice when he calls my name, and close myself in my bedroom.

Oliver:It’s been way too long, pretty boy. Can I come over? Presuming your Prince Charming isn’t around to beat my ass.

Hesitating, I sit on the edge of my bed and read the message again. Oliver is safe. I feel nothing for him. He doesn’t knock me off balance when he smiles. His touches don’t set fireworks off in my blood. His kisses don’t engrave themselves on my skin. He's…nothing to me.

I startle when my phone rings.

“Hey sexy, it's been a while,” Oliver says, his voice low and husky. “I've been thinking about you. Can I come over and show you what I've been thinking?” He breathes heavily down the phone.

When I don't reply he says my name, this time a little less husky. “Come on, you know you want me there. I'll fuck you so good, like I always do.”

It could be so easy to fall into old ways and let him come over. At least with Oliver I know exactly how I feel and I know what we are to each other. There's no complex history or complicated feelings.

Oliver is an easy distraction - but he’s a distraction I don’t want.

“I don't….” I start before saying more firmly, “No, you can't come over.”

“Maybe it’s time to start actually living, Jamie.”

“I will, if you will. And we’ll do it for us. Not for anyone else.”

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