Page 116 of Finance Bros

His gaze drops away from mine. “I know it was weird.”

“Not for me,” I tell him. “It’s just hard to imagine what it was like for you.”

“You shouldn’t overthinkthat.”

“I’m relieved no one hurt you.”

“No. I only ever hurt myself,” he says.

His words give me a sense of unease, like the first rumble of an earthquake. “Is that what you’re doing now?”

He sighs, his eyes blinking a few times before meeting mine again. “I don’t know, Ryan. Is it?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Are you planning to keep hooking up with me?” he asks.

“Obviously I’d like to.”

“It’s not obvious,” he states. “Nothing about you is obvious. So, what does it look like in your head? A summer fling or whatever?”

The idea of Malcolm Walsh thinking I can reduce him to something as fleeting as a fling makes me think I haven’t shown him how important his willingness to spendanyamount of time with me outside work is. However—I’m not ready to call this a relationship. Not even close. Right now, I want my best friend back, and I see him in front of me again for the first time in too many years. And if sex is part of our new dynamic—the evolution of the innocent snuggling we used to do? Fucking bonus.

I get how friends with benefits is portrayed in general. That someone’s always more invested than the other. But I’m a cautious investor. Risk isn’t something I like to dabble in. The idea of putting my love out in the open again is a risk I’m not willing to take—not while he’s in flux.

I’m not without misgivings either. I’m certainly in love with him, but there’s a part of me that wonders—and this is the part of me that’s only ever been with women—whether being with a man will be enough for me. While I’ve never had a long-term,romantic relationship with a woman, this thing I have going on with Norah has managed to heal a lot of old wounds. Wounds inflicted by boys and men and high school mean girls.

The opportunity to develop a relationship with a mature woman who’s probably never been any meaner than an occasional private gossip session, fells like a real chance to move on from this old, doomed crush. I haven’t beenpining, per se. I’m a fucking realist. But when he’s right here—looking at me like this—my goddamn soul wants to intertwine with his. There’s a sense of never being able to be close enough.

But is that really what Ineed?

I can want him. I can even love him. But in order to change my plans, my future, I shouldn’t be able to picture my life without him in it, but something in my mind won’t let me go there. I keep coming back to Kaylin. Their decade long relationship as evidenced by the dog who’s now sleeping on the beanbag chair because Mal left her there staring after him longingly.

At any rate, I can’t think past tomorrow, much less the rest of the summer. I’ll see how we get along if he agrees to hang out for the day, and then maybe I’ll have a better sense of what’s possible.

But in terms of the other question he keeps asking me—what do I want? I want to be sure of him. Even if it’s just as a friend, I want to be sure I can count on him to be there.

“Can we play it by ear?” I ask.

“Are you always like this?” is his follow up question.

“Like what?”

“Like afraid to commit to anything? I only ask because—well—it sounds like it, and I’m the same way.”

“I wouldn’t say I fear commitments, no.”

“Just me, then.”

“I’m not afraid of you either,” I say, before realizing it’s not true. He’s got a piece of me. A chunk, really, but when we’relying here like this, it doesn’t feel like it’s missing. If we were to lose touch again, or worse—turn on each other again—I’m not sure I’d ever feel this complete. “Okay—maybe a little. What do you want me to commit to?”

“Just be honest with me,” he says with a defeated sigh. “And if you ever find yourself doing something because you’re feeling sorry for me—like buying me dinner for instance—don’t.”

“Hey,” I say. “Is that fair? That’s not what that was about.”

“So, if I’d shown up at Bailey’s wearing normal shoes and acting like nothing was wrong, you still would have wanted to have dinner?”

I hate that I don’t know the answer to that. The bottom line is, dinner was great, and it was somethingIreally needed. I let his neck go and roll onto my back. He doesn’t make a move to get closer. Fine. Whatever. We can see what this looks like in the morning—ifhe stays. I’m not gonna fucking force him. God forbid he thinks I feel sorry for him—that I have an ounce of compassion.

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