Page 119 of Until Tomorrow
“I think we need bumpers,” I muttered. We stared down the lane, shoulder to shoulder, as we assessed the situation before game two. Beer on an empty stomach was a bad idea—probably worse.
“We definitely need bumpers,” Elliot agreed as he chewed on his straw thoughtfully. His second glass was empty, but so was mine.We needed more.“Think they’ll give us bumpers?”
“Aren’t you like a city hero?” I asked. “Firefighter and all that? Can’t you just flash a badge or something—get them to do whatever you fucking want?”
“I don’t think it works like that.”
“Make it work like that. Oh! Tell them you’re gay.”
“And what? I’m a gay man who needs bumpers?”
“You’re a gay man who can’t get it in straight!”
“Nothing about me is straight!”
“Exactly! It’s why we need bumpers!”Why were we shouting at each other?Who the fuck knew? Or cared? At least I was having a damn good time.
“Fine!” He sighed dramatically and whirled on his heel. “The gay firefighter is getting you bumpers, baby!”
“Buy food!” I yelled after him. “The least you can do is feed me!”
Beer, burgers, and bowling. There were fries too, inappropriate jokes, and more laughing than I’d done in years. Bumpers didn’t make us any better, but they did make it a fuck ton funnier.
“All right, pole master,” I began as I shoved a fry in my mouth. “We’re on game four, and you haven’t said shit about what’s wrong. Talk.”
“Is California a nice place to live?” Elliot asked instead.
“It’s expensive as fuck. Why?”
“I told him I’m moving. I wasn’t planning to move. I just kind of fucking said it,” he replied.This fucking idiot.“It makes sense, though, doesn’t it?”
“No,” I scoffed. “Friends don’t leave friends to bowl drunk alone.”
“They have bowling in California. Maybe. If they didn’t outlaw it.”
“But do you want to move? That’s a big move,” I pointed out.
“I can’t do it anymore,” Elliot lamented. “I love him so much it fucking hurts, and watching him with another guy? That’s just fucking torture.”
“I get that.” I nodded slowly. Taking time to think, I clicked my barbell to my teeth and stared down our lane. “Don’t think running away will solve that fucking problem. Absence may make the heart grow fonder or some shit like that, but it also makes everything hurt more.”
“Yeah, but if I don’t see him every day, maybe I can finally convince myself to let him go,” he told me. He traced the lip of his glass as he glared hard at it. “I don’t fucking know. I’m just tired of feeling like this. I need to move the fuck on. How’d you do it? With you dating again?”
“To be fair, I haven’t asked her on an actual date,” I admitted.
“All right, hold on,” Elliot interjected. His entire demeanor changed with that little piece of information, like a kid with something to hyperfocus on.Damn it.I’d regret this. “Are you telling me that you haven’t taken her on a date?”
“Technically? No.” We’d had a lot of sex though. No shame there. And gone shopping—never again.Why I hadn’t asked her on a real date was beyond me.
“Give me your fucking phone.” He held out his hand.
“I can ask a woman on a date all by myself, thank you very much,” I snapped.
“Clearly not,” he scoffed. “Get your phone out. We’re doing this now.”
“Jesus fuck,” I muttered, but I still did as he asked. Elliot slung an arm around my shoulders, watching my every move.
“You call her spark plug?” he asked as he read Eva’s name in my phone.Sue me, I couldn’t resist.
