Chapter 58: My Friends Have Turned Against Me
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So I shared. Not the whole story, had to maintain some dignity and a bit of self-preservation...but I gave them the highlights: how Damien was being nicer to me, the date, the movie, the ice cream, Melanie kissing me outside Callington Hall. Walking home with my thoughts spiraling out of control.
Returning to a dark apartment where Damien was sitting, looking like he’d been there for ages, the cold coffee on the table, and how everything had appeared before I grasped what I was witnessing.
The argument. The escalation. The moment when everything shattered.
And finally, quietly: "She isn’t the one I want."
Silence, just two seconds of it, the kind of silence that comes from quickly processing information.
Then Joey smacked both hands on the table.
"I FUCKING KNEW IT!"
Half the café turned to stare at us. A woman near the window jumped visibly. Someone’s coffee cup rattled in surprise.
"Will you keep it down-"
"The tension! The sexual tension! I’ve been saying it from the beginning-"
"There is no sexual tension, I’m straight you moron! I-" I countered, but once again I got interrupted.
"There is so much tension-"
"Joey-"
"The coffee! The notes! The laundry-"
I didn’t even know whether to laugh or cry at this point. I wanted to bang my head against the wall, because I knew this would happen. "Joey please-"
"You told me about the laundry, and I said-"
"Shut the hell up," I said, as authoritatively as possible while being a hair away from causing a scene in a café. "Shut up right now."
Joey leaned back, looking completely unfazed, the kind of person who speaks their mind without a care.
Maya had the quiet yet dangerous vibe of someone who was already onto this situation. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oliver."
"Don’t."
"Honey, I’m gonna hold your hand when I say this....But that man was jealous."
I gasped, there’s no way she said that out loud. Now it’ll be more difficult fir me to deny it. "No he wasn’t, you’re both crazy as shit! There has to be a proper, reasonable explanation for his behavior."
"He was sitting alone in the dark waiting for you." Maya went on, "If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was your wife or something and he caught you cheating."
I flinched, for a moment I envisioned us as a married couple. Me coming home from a long day of work and Damien with that black apron of his with a pout while toying with his wedding ring...telling me I’d been an hour late and now dinner was cold and demanded to know just where I was and accusing me of sleeping around.
And I almost threw up while trying to get rid of that thought. Because the situation wasn’t that different from that at all!
But naturally, I had to argue. Because there’s no way I’d ever accept that he was jealous... because that would imply that Damien liked me.
Which he does not, by the way! Thank you very much.
"He was reading! He said-"
"In the dark, Oliver."
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, staring down at the table that, like everything else in my life lately, had nothing to say.
"Look, you’re both insane," I finally said, lacking any real conviction.
Joey pointed at me with his coffee cup. "You went on that date to prove something."
"I went because Melanie asked, and she’s nice."
"Both things can be true. But why did you really go?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. What was this, a criminal interrogation?!
"Because she’s pretty."
"Okay."
"And funny."
"Sure."
"And she likes me." I stated.
"Also fair." He leaned in closer. "Then why have you been talking about Damien this entire time? A normal person would be more focused on telling his friends about the pretty girl he went on a date with, and not his roommate."
I opened my mouth, ready to deliver a reasonable, deflective answer that would safely redirect the discussion. But the response wasn’t there. I searched for it, and it was nowhere to be found.
Fuck! He got me there...
"...That’s not relevant," I finally said.
Joey’s grin turned mischievous, like someone holding up a mirror when you least want to see yourself. "Oh my God."
"Stop."
"Oh my God, Oliver-"
"Stop it-"
"You like him-"
I stood up slightly from my chair. "I do not fucking-"
"-you are so far gone-"
"I am not gone anywhere-"
"Sit down," Maya said calmly.
So, I sat back down... because no matter how mad I was, I wouldn’t want to piss off Maya. She could be terrifying at times...
A few more customers were casting glances our way. I was becoming a regular spectacle. Maya set her cup down with the poise of someone guiding a meeting back on track. "You don’t have to admit anything yet."
"Because there’s nothing to admit, for crying out loud."
"Sure."
"Exactly."
She and Joey exchanged a knowing glance, a silent agreement after reaching the same conclusion from different angles. I hated those looks. Nothing good ever followed.
"Let’s skip the labels," Maya suggested.
"Gladly. For good, let’s never go back."
"But you have to admit that you think about Damien more than anyone else in your life right now." Maya pointed out.
"I live with him-"
"You notice everything he does."
"He’s hard to ignore, when he’s being so damn annoying-"
"You compare other people to him without realizing it." She said it simply, not unkindly, just true, like someone accurately stating a fact.
I paused.
She had spotted it on my face before I could mask it with indifference, the small, involuntary flinch of someone who’s been seen through.
"That," she pointed, "right there."
I groaned and dropped my head back. "This is emotional manipulation."
Joey laughed so hard he almost spilled his coffee. "This is gold," he said, wiping a tear, "I can’t believe you’re a psychology major and you can’t even tell how you feel!"
I tossed a napkin at him. He caught it gleefully.
Eventually, the conversation shifted. We fell into a comfortable quiet, that type of silence that settles in between people who’ve already faced the hard stuff and don’t feel the need to fill the gaps with chatter.
Outside, the sidewalk bustled with the usual Sunday afternoon crowd, students with backpacks, couples clutching coffees...everyone living their ordinary, uncomplicated lives without a major existential crisis every five minutes.
Lucky. Genuinely lucky bastards.
Then Joey, as casual as ever, asked, "So, how’s Melanie?"
I gazed out the window for a moment, taking stock. "She’s great and we had fun," I replied.
Maya waited.
"But?" she prodded.
I rubbed the back of my neck. "There isn’t really a but."
"Oliver."
"There genuinely-" I paused, sighed. "She likes me. That’s good, objectively, that’s a good thing."
"But?" Maya prodded again, her tone gentle, leaving room for more.
I focused on my coffee. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and somehow that made it easier...no pressure, the sense that whatever came next would find a safe landing.
