Page 94 of My So-Called Perfect Life
Raul looks unphased. “Love is messy.”
I take a sip of my beer. “Things between us are going fine.”
“Let me ask you,” Evan says. “Has she asked you to go steady or whatever the fuck the kids are doing these days?”
“Grow up, Ev,” I reply.
“See, she hasn’t, and you know it,” he continues. “She hasn’t said shit because you’re the rebound, dude. You’re her good time to help her get over the heartache. One of these days, she’ll be ready to move on and you’ll be left in the dust. Hopefully without a disease that will make your dick fall off.”
“You don’t know her!” I say through gritted teeth, trying hard not to punch my best friend.
Seeing I’m pissed, he calms down. “Look dude, I’m not trying to be an asshole. I’m just trying to protect you. This is the definition of rebound. I don’t want you to get all invested and have her fuck you over. She’s not worth it.”
I open my mouth to defend her, but Raul chimes in. “I don’t think you should worry about this rebound nonsense. You can’t control when you fall in love. Sometimes you meet the right person at the wrong time. That doesn’t mean you just let her go. If she’s worth it, have patience. It will work out.”
I raise my glass to him. “Thank you. That’s what I’ve been thinking.”
Clearly frustrated, Evan drops his chin to his chest. “She isn’t the right person at the wrong time. This is not some rom-com. She’s justwrongfor you, no matter which way you look at it.”
“I repeat, you don’t know her.” Patience for Danielle, I have in spades. Patience for Evan, shrinking by the second.
“Think about it, dude. The only reason you ever saw her again is because she gave you chlamydia. She had her good time, and she wasn’t planning on coming back. Wham bam, thank you ma’am. She came back to flip out about the chlamydia. Then you had to basically beg her to go out with you. Face it, man, she’s just not that into you. I have milk in my fridge with a longer shelf life than this relationship.”
It takes every ounce of self-control not to lay him out. Smashing my fist through that smug grin would make me feel better, but it might end my friendship and fuck up my friend’s restaurant. I’m not looking to do either. “You need to back off man. You’ve made your point, loud and fucking clear. But we’re just going to have to agree to disagree here. If she does bail, then you get to hold it over me for the rest of time. Until then, you need to shut the fuck up.”
Evan holds his hands up in surrender. “Message received.”
Raul brings the conversation back to Cohen’s West and the tension eases. We get through the rest of lunch without me smashing a beer bottle over Evan’s head.
I replay the conversation in my head as I walk to the subway. I get where Evan’s coming from, I really do. I’m not a complete idiot. On paper thisrelationship,or whatever it is, looks like something born out of a reality show with no hope for a second season. It’s not like I’ve run out and bought a ring or anything. I just want to give this thing between me and Danielle a little room to breathe. Is that so crazy? Why does everything need to be set in stone?
Across the train car, I notice a couple. She’s talking his ear off, but he’s not paying attention. He’s scrolling through Tinder on his phone. She keeps talking about plans for the upcoming weekend and a possible vacation over the holiday, and he’s thinking about the next bed he’s going to hop into.
What’s the shelf life of that relationship? A week? A month?
Fuck.What if Evan is right?
Chapter Thirty-One
Danielle
Dating a man who ownsa bar can come in pretty handy. Like most people who live in the city, my apartment is a shoebox. I love it but entertaining at home has its limits. If I invite any more than five people, the apartment becomes too claustrophobic to breathe. But, with Cohen’s, I can invite as many people to the bar as I want. Ryan gives the group the girlfriend discount, and I don’t have to stress about cooking. Bob is a killer chef and makes everything better than I do anyway. So, it’s a win-win.
On Wednesdays, almost all of the teachers stop in for a drink after work. Getting drinks at a reasonable price, makes it so much easier for broke teachers to join in. Tonight, we’re celebrating Luke. He killed it at his first IEP meeting. He handled it like a pro.
By seven-thirty, only Luke and I are left. Intermittently, Ryan pops by for a quick kiss. It’s sweet that he takes the time, but the interaction between us feels off. He seems so tense and stressed.
“Does he always have that dark and broody thing going on?” Luke asks after Ryan stopped by our table.
My eyes narrow as they follow Ryan across the bar. I can’t recall ever seeing a man fill out a pair of jeans quite like Ryan. The Cohen’s T-shirt is a bonus. I swear he shrinks them in the dryer, so they mold to every muscle of his chest and biceps. He looks hot, but the vibe he’s putting out is all cold. “Not really,” I reply. “He’s usually pretty laid back. But, tonight, he’s so. . . intense.”
“Everything okay between you two?” Luke asks.
“Sure,” I reply as I pick at the label of my cider. “I mean, I think so. I bet he’s just in work mode. Plus, he’s looking to expand. That comes with a ton of stress.”
“I bet,” Luke says, finishing his beer. He sets the bottle down, then stands. “Alright. I’m out of here. Thanks again for coordinating this. It was a fun way to blow off steam after that meeting.” He drops some cash on the table. “Be sure to thank Ryan for me, too.”
I stand and give him a quick hug. “You got it. Have a good night.”
