Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 116177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Bobby’s face hovers at the opened door, furious, glaring, his breaths pulling in and shoving out of his nostrils like dragon fire.
“What is it??” I ask, wide-eyed. “Did he do somethin’ to you?? Don’t tell me he put a hand on you, or said somethin’ awful, or—” I pop my door open at once and hop right out of the car, fuming, then slam it shut behind me as I limp around it. “I’ll beat his face in, dude. I warned you, Bobby. I said he was a little shit, and I—”
“Jimmy.”
I stop in front of my car, two steps from the door to Nadine’s, and face him. “What?”
“I gave the signal.” Bobby spreads his hands. “Why didn’t you come and do your thing?”
I blink. “It was your signal? It looked like an actual accident! I thought—”
“Seriously, Jimmy?” He sighs, shuts the passenger side door, then comes around the car and puts himself in front of me. “I give up. That’s what that white-fuckin’-flag-napkin-drop means. I give the hell up. I give up on tryin’ to find the perfect guy. I give up on boyfriends completely. I give up on love.”
I want to reach out and hug him, but our big dumb deal sits dauntingly between us like a brick wall. And even if I can’t see that wall, I feel the cold, hard strength of it. “Bobby, don’t give up. C’mon. I’m sorry I interfered in there, like I always do. Ugh.” I hit my own face with my hands, then drop them to my sides. “I’m the worst fuckin’ friend, Bobby. I keep getting in your way.”
“You were supposed to get in my way when I dropped the dang napkin on the floor, you dummy!”
“I’m sorry! I thought—” I let out an honest to goodness growl, like I’m turning into a canine. My frustration level is about to set my hat on fire. I give it an angry tug on its bill for emphasis. “Just tell me what you want me to do, Bobby. You want me to go punch the son of the executive chef of my mama’s restaurant in the face? I will. I’ll do that for you and spend a night in jail.”
Bobby sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”
“It’s me who’s the problem,” I go on, talking to him even as he drops his head with another sigh and stares forlornly down at the pavement. “It’s me who’s always the problem, Bobs. Not you. Not Malcolm. Not any of those guys who hit on you at the club.”
He closes his eyes.
“Bobby, I care about you. I love you like a brother.”
“I know that.” He says those words with an unexpected anger, like his jaw is clenched tight. He brings his hurt eyes up to mine. “I just … need to accept the fact that it’s pointless, doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking.” He gestures angrily at the front door to Nadine’s. “Going on stupid dates …”
“These aren’t stupid. Your date is stupid.”
“And trying to find a dumb boyfriend …”
“Bobby …”
“It’s just pointless.”
“It ain’t pointless!”
“Yeah, it is!” he snaps.
“No, it’s not!” I snap right back.
“It is pointless, for a guy like me!”
“The fuck does that mean! ‘A guy like you’??”
“A GUY WHO’S IN LOVE WITH HIS BEST FRIEND!”
My mouth is open with whatever I was about to shout back at him, the words now trapped in my throat. I stare at Bobby’s stern, pained face while he stands there, his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breaths and ire. His eyes are two balls of liquid fire, wet with his emotion, even though no tears fall from them.
“Bobby …” I choke, the word barely there.
He looks ashamed suddenly. His gaze detaches and drops to my chest. “I’m … I just … I …” He closes his eyes at once. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
I don’t give it another thought. I wrap up Bobby in my arms, standing in front of Nadine’s big glass doors, and hold him against my body in the tightest, protective embrace.
And right there, listening to his breaths as they crash over my shoulder near my ear …
Right there, feeling his body against mine, feeling the urgent, panicked thumping of his own heart, feeling his warmth …
Right there, filling with that unequivocal sense of home, of belonging, of completion …
That’s when something clicks.
It’s very quick, like an instant the answer occurs to you to a lifelong puzzle of half-explained truths and a lot of quick denials. It’s this mental key that slides right where it needs to go in my brain, unlocking a great big door that’s never been opened, light pouring in like a golden flood.
All of these feelings I gave one name all my life that deserved another.
Some words Camille said in my room that day, words that resonate as deeply and as truthfully as the touch of my hands on Bobby, the feel of him in my arms, the way he makes me so happy.