Page 164 of Finance Bros
I shake the phone, half wishing it were his neck. “I don’t bore easily,” I snap. “I just don’t keep doing shit I’m not interested in.”
“So what’s your usual timeline on that?” he asks. “Two months? Three? A few weeks? What?”
“Fuck you, Ryan.”
“I only ask because you were with Kaylin for adecade.”
Goddamnit.“You’re never gonna get over that are you?” I ask because I think that’s what this all comes down to. My oneunforgivable mistake. Lying. Pretending to be someone I wasn’t because I was too afraid to admit I wanted to be with him.
He makes a frustrated noise, and I can picture him pacing his rug, his turns getting sharper the faster he goes. “I have to, don’t I?”
“Not if you want to end things.”
“Why the fuck would I want to do that?” he nearly yells.
I used to think I was really easy going as a boyfriend, but it turns out, I’m not. Not even a little. I’m high maintenance as fuck. I can’t think of a single reason why Ryan would want to be with me—not if he could have a woman like Norah. Shit, he’d be better off with Miguel. This train of thought leads me to ask the most pathetic question I’ve ever asked in my life. “How could you possibly want me?”
“Malcolm. I swear to God, don’t make me come over there. You know I hate that place.”
“Maybe we should take a break,” I say.
He sighs heavily.
“I’m spiraling, Ryan.”
“No shit.”
“So, I think I need a break.”
“Where have I heard that before…” he mutters.
“I don’t mean it like?—”
But before I can finish the sentence, he hangs up on me.
I sit on the couch for another three or four minutes while I absorb what just happened. I gulp back a strong swell of emotion before pushing my ass up off the couch. I know I fucked up. Again. And I can’t just sit around and do nothing all night.
It’s Friday, and we’re supposed to film another episode tomorrow, so I guess I’ll see him then if he doesn’t kick me off the team in the meantime. He might have to now that I’m not in the internship.
And then what would I have? This apartment. That’s what. This shitty, depressing apartment. No girlfriend, no dog, no podcast, no job, no friends, no Ryan.
Damn.
I don’t regret quitting Marks & Baker, but I don’t think I realized until now that, in doing so, I was setting fire to every pillar that holds up what I call a life. Ryan understood though. He was trying to help me.
I’ve been in therapy long enough to know when I need help. Am I great about asking for it? No. But in light of the current circumstances, I make the bare minimum effort. I text Andrea.
Me
Quit the internship. Me and Ryan might be on the outs. I’m not suicidal. No rush.
Once that’s sent, I take a shower, hoping by the time I come out, she’ll have replied. If not, then I probably won’t hear from her until tomorrow.
Once I’m clean, I have a few texts from Bailey I ignore but nothing from Andrea, and that’s when I consider—really consider—going to Ryan’s to clean up my mess. I need to, so I get dressed, pocket my phone and wallet, and head out. However, when I get into the Uber, I’m no more clear on what I want to say to him than I was when I had him on the phone. I should have used different verbiage than “take a break.” I realize that now. Maybe I should have called a time out.
The last thing I want to do is break things off with him. I’ll be wrecked if he does, but I guess I’d understand. I haven’t done nearly enough to keep him.
He doesn’t see me as a safe bet, and I can hardly blame him. But since when does he have to play everything so safe? Has he always been like this, or is this another byproduct of the way I tormented him?
