1
LUKE
SEPTEMBER
Final results for August are attached.
Best regards,
Luke Tremblay-Financial Analyst (Internal)
Sent.
Another long, grueling reporting cycle is finally over. I collapse back in my office chair, the harsh glow of my dual monitors serving as the only company in my dark, quiet apartment. Letting out a breath, I rub my temples to diffuse some of the tension in my head.
I deserve a drink. It’s only a few steps to my kitchen where I flick on some lights and grab a bottle of whiskey, pouring a hefty amount into a tumbler. I take a slow sip, feeling the warmth spread through me. For a fleeting second, I let myself think that this will loosen me up for later, before reality comes crashing back. Out of my large friend group from university, I’mthe only one who could afford to stay in Toronto, and “later” will probably consist of me working out and sleeping early.
Sighing, I toy with the idea of going out alone and meeting new people. Nothing ever seems to work, though, and the most I get from one of those nights is a random hookup or a random follow on social media. Those are fine, I guess, but if there’s something in my life that I’m lacking, it’s connection. Sure, I tried to find some kind of social footing over the summer, but nothing panned out, and now it’s getting colder. The city unofficially slows down and stays in until around April.
My phone buzzes on the desk, and I smile once I see a few messages from my university friends. The other four guys are scattered across Canada and the world for grad school and exciting-sounding jobs. Scrolling through the chat, a pang of loneliness hits me. I miss the guys and when we all used to live together in a house on Bathurst Street. Someone had the bright idea to call us the Bathstreet Boys. It was cringey back then, but now? It’s cute as hell, not gonna lie.
Realizing that I ghosted them for the past week, I tap out a quick text to let them know I’m still alive. I’ve barely hit send on a second message before Stefano starts a group call. I answer, taking another sip of my drink as I connect.
“It’s Luke!” Stefano’s voice booms through the phone from Montreal. “He lives!”
“Yup, I’m alive,” I reply, my grin spreading.
Stefano laughs, which is followed by a chorus of greetings from Mark and Carl, both in Vancouver. And then there’s Adrian, who’s working in Hong Kong. His eyes are bloodshot and he’s still in bed.
“Fuck, it’s six in the morning here and I’m dying, but it’s awesome to see you guys,” he croaks, dragging a hand across his face.
“Alright, Luke,” Mark says. “Give us a life update. Are you still working all the time?”
Stefano replies for me. “Nah, he only works the first and last two weeks of every month!”
I scoff. “Okay guys, enough about work. I’m off the clock now, anyway.”
Not even a second of silence passes before Mark jumps in again. “Sure thing. You find a man yet?”
Great. There it is.“Actually, I’m good to talk about work.”
Carl pipes up. “He’s probably still jaded about dating in Toronto.”
He’s not wrong. The dating scene here, if you can even call it that, is brutal. Half of the guys don’t know what they want, and the other half aren’t on the dating market. It’s slim pickings all around, and I’ve given up actively trying.
Stefano chuckles, which breaks me out of my thoughts. “You don’t need something serious tonight. Go hit up Church Street, find someone interesting, and see where the night goes.”
“That sounds like a lot of work,” I say.
Mark rolls his eyes. “You’re afraid of catching feelings, aren’t you?”
I let out a huff. “Please, I’d love to catch feelings if there was someone worth it.”
My friends all nod, and Adrian pulls his phone closer, showing me a flattering view of his forehead.
“At least leave your apartment. Don’t make me fly back and drag you out,” he mumbles. His mouth is right next to the microphone, which makes him sound a lot louder than I was expecting.
In all honesty, I would love for some of them to come back to Toronto, even though I don’t say it. There’s no point.
