Page 83 of The Legend Next Door
“Ten weeks,” I correct when I’m unable to think of anything better to say. “And two days.”
He doesn’t need to say I’m an idiot. The look he gives it says it all, and then some.
He whistles softly under his breath. “Ten weeks and two days, huh? Less than three months.That’sall it’s taken.”
If I was in a better, more stable frame of mind, I’d let it go because I know this is what Marcus is like. He’s one of those friends that’s a little possessive. He’s been like this since we met. It’s not ideal, and it annoys me sometimes, but when it comes to friends who are like family, you have to take the good with the bad. You just have to suck it up and put up with a few less-than-ideal characteristics because like it or not, no one’s perfect.
I’m not in a better, more stable frame of mind though. Far from it, and I feel attacked, so I snap, “It’s almost a year and a half in dog years.”
There’s a ridiculous, tinny desperation in my voice that clanks against the ceiling beams until it’s absorbed by my books. I hear it and instantly regret saying it.
Now, he really does have reason to think I’m an idiot.
“It’s an inside joke Luca made the other day… It’s silly. Forget I said anything.”
Marcus is one of those people who looks like he has hard eyes. He doesn’t, but he looks like he does a lot of the time. Now and again, they soften. Usually, not all the way, but considerably. It’s always seemed random what makes it happen. It must be because now, for no discernible reason, they soften completely.
“Nah, I get it,” he says. “It’s a unit of measurement that speaks to the fourth dimension of reality. Of things that exist outside of our concept of time. Things that are unchanging, static, or timeless, and thus can’t be measured in a linear way.”
“Yes. That’s what I meant.”
He chuckles and rolls his eyes at me. The big, unspoken thing in the room swells and expands. Most of the time it’s distant, so far away I can’t quite make out its name. The dread I always feel when it draws near extends its claws, digging them into me in a painful warning.
“You love him pretty hard, huh?” For once, there’s no edge in Marcus’s voice. There isn’t even disappointment, just acceptance. Dread gives way and slowly releases its grip on me. “I always knew you’d be one of those people who fell hard when you finally fell. I’ve been expecting it…waiting for it…for a long time. So, are you guys, what, together now, or something?”
“How did you know?”
He’s facing the TV, light from the screen flickering in his eyes and making his expression hard to read. “You’ve been different for two or three weeks. Kinda floaty, even for you. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t. I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I know you think I’m being stupid, and maybe I am. I did try to phase him out, but I just…I couldn’t. It was too late from the start. And, and I’m sorry, Moop. I’m so sorry if I disappoint you.”
His eyes are still soft, and he throws an arm around my shoulder. “You? Disappoint me?” I lean against him and close my eyes as he wraps his very specific brand of unyielding comfort around me. “Never.”
Whatever is on TV isn’t hockey, and that’s a surprise to me because I don’t remember changing the channel. Maybe Marcus changed it without me noticing. I try to get into it, but it’s a complicated tech thriller-type thing, and I don’t have the wherewithal to follow.
“Do you want to tell me about him, or what?” Marcus asks after a while.
“Is it, like, okay if I do? I don’t have to if you don’t want to hear it.”
“If it’s important to you, of course I want to hear about it, Jer. Friends first, remember?” It’s the closest we’ve ever come to naming the thing with no name or even acknowledging it. I’m uncomfortable and terrified of saying the wrong thing, but I’m also so fucking grateful for the way Marcus is taking this. “We’re friends before and above everything else. You can talk to me about whatever it is that’s making you sit here all frozen like that.”
I don’t know where to start because, on the one hand, I’m euphoric. When I’m with Ben, I’m so happy I can’t feel my feet, and the rest of the time, I’m petrified and concerned that I’ve taken a big break from reality.
“I’m scared all the time,” I say eventually. “If I’m not with him, I’m scared because I really am fucked, Moop. You were right. About everything. I am being a huge dumbass, and I’m definitely going to get hurt. If it doesn’t work out with Ben, I won’t be okay. I thought I would be, but I won’t. I’m not being overdramatic or anything. I mean it. I won’t be okay. I’ll never be the same again if he leaves me. Ever.”
I lean my head against Marcus’s shoulder. It’s solid and unshakable, and I’m unspeakably thankful he’s here.
“It’s not even just Ben I love. I love his kid too. Luca’s the best. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. I don’t want people to be mean to him. He’s starting at a new school in August, and I don’t want him to have to go through that. He’s only six. I wish I could do it for him, and you know how much I hated school. I don’t want him to have the experience of not knowing where to sit or stand. I don’t want him to be unsure or afraid. I don’t want him to be hungry, ever. I hate the weather now because I don’t want him to be too hot, and I definitely don’t want him to be too cold. I’m fucking dreading winter. I’m worried his tooth will fall out at school, and he’ll lose it. He’ll be so upset because he’s been looking forward to it falling out forever.”
I’m rambling badly, so I take a deep breath and check to ensure Marcus is still with me. By some miracle, he is, so I continue, “I’m super worried the school he’s going to will have a nativity play at Christmas, and they’ll cast him as a shepherd because he’s one of those kids that just gives off massive shepherd vibes, you know? And if that happens, I know there’s less than no chance of him not turning his shepherd’s crook upside down and using it as a hockey stick. There’s literally no chance of it not happening. Did I tell you he’s a hockey prodigy?”
“You mentioned it once or twice.”
“Well, he is, so if he does take it upon himself to use his staff as a stick, he’s going to yeet whatever he decides to hit clean off the stage and into the audience, and it’s going to be carnage. I don’t even know what kind of trouble you get into for that kind of thing these days, but I do know I don’t want Luca getting into it.”
Marcus laughs softly, not at me, but at what I’ve said. “He’s a cool kid, Jer, he’ll be okay. His cousins are going to the same school. They’ll look out for him, and his dad is Ben Stirling. No one’s going to mess with him.”
“Do you think?”
