Page 2 of Calculated Chaos

I stand as everyone heads for the door. Jameson claps my shoulder on the way out with a smile and that look I’ve come to love and always wished I could get from my bio dad. It’s an expression of caring, of affection.

Mom kisses and hugs me, and as she heads for the door, Sara wraps her arms around me, squeezing tightly as she smacks a lip gloss-covered kiss to my cheek.

“Forgive me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She laughs and I smile. “See you Tuesday,” she says. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Sara.”

Once everyone is gone and it’s just me and Axel, my best friend spins on his heel with a shit-eating grin a mile wide.

“The clothes I picked out for you are on your bed. We have an hour before dinner, so you need to hustle.”

“Dinner?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Birthday weekend fun starts now.”

“Goody,” I mumble.

“You complain now, but by Tuesday I’m gonna be your favorite person.”

“You already are. I like you even more when you just let me be a pathetic homebody.”

Axel shakes his head. “Come on, Holl. Just let me do this for you. If you hate everything we do, I promise I’ll never plan another birthday for you again.”

I cock my head with narrowed eyes. Axel has been planning something, whether big or small, for every birthday since we met, which was at the ripe old ages of nine and ten. He’s only four months younger than me, but I’m like an old man compared to his exuberance for life. We’ve always been opposites, but somehow we just work.

“Okay,” Axel says with a sheepish grin. “I won’t plan anything major.”

“Fine.”

He throws his arms around me and kisses my cheek before shoving me toward my bedroom. My affectionate, outgoing, always happy best friend cackles as he leaves me, and I just shake my head. The most I’ve done for a birthday of his is a dinner reservation, but how do you meet someone at his level? Anything I planned would pale in comparison. Meanwhile, he stages an intervention and has a whole weekend planned. I’m damn lucky to have the guy in my life.

In my bedroom I find an outfit laid out that looks like something someone who is definitely not me would wear. Like maybe a tattoo artist. Or hell, even a guy in a band. Does Axel really think I’m wearing skinny jeans?

Huffing, I undress, peeling out of my sensible button-down and khaki pants. I decide on a quick shower to freshen up and hopefully find some sense of adventure for whatever Axel has up his sleeve.

While the water heats, I brush my teeth and stare at my reflection. I do look tired, and much older than my almost-forty years. Axel still looks like a guy in his early thirties. Maybe everyone’s right and I am getting old before my time.

I’m told I’m a good-looking guy, but it’s hard to see right now with my overgrown brown hair and the bags under my eyes. It doesn’t help that I live with a guy who looks like he should be in a men’s fitness magazine. He isn’t overly muscular, but he’s fit. He’s trendy in how he dresses and wears his black hair cut short on the sides and long on top, hanging perfectly in his face. He has tattoos and with his dark olive complexion and style sense, he always attracts attention. He should be cocky as fuck, but he’s the most genuine, down-to-earth guy I’ve ever met.

Even his mind is brilliant, which he downplays and attributes to timing and luck. His app development company blew up, and he sold it for millions just two years ago. Meanwhile, I’ve been slaving away at the same desk in the same department for the last five years with only two raises in that time.

I sigh heavily as I step into the shower. I’m an accountant. My mind doesn’t work like his. It’s all zeros and ones for me. More than once since we became friends, I’ve wondered why he sticks around, but he insists I’m the balance he needs in his life. I guess he’s the fun I need in mine. Fuck only knows how boring I would be without him pushing me from time to time.

Because of him I’ve traveled to places I would have never thought to go. I’ve eaten exotic foods, gotten high, and dated women way out of my league simply because he set it up. We’ve been by each other’s side through every up and down, and the least I can do is give him my all this weekend.

After I’m done showering and drying off, I shimmy, and I do mean shimmy, into the tightest jeans ever created. They have tears carefully placed along the legs down to the knees. I’ve never understood the concept of paying money for jeans that are already torn.

I grab the black shirt and tug it over my head. It’s partly mesh, exposing my skinny chest. I’m not so sure about this.

There’s a knock on my door before Axel barrels in, a wide grin on his face. He’s dressed in a similar outfit, but he definitely fills it out far better than I do.

“Wear these,” he says, thrusting his favorite pair of black boots at me.

I take them, sitting on the bed as I pull them on. “Are you sure I don’t look ridiculous?”

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