Staring at the piece of paper, I give myself a few seconds to think. “Emily,” I start. “I’m gay. That’s why I don’t look for those cues.”
Emily blinks at me a few times. “Huh,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “That checks out.”
I tilt my head in confusion.
“Honestly, I kind of suspected. You’re the only finance bro I’ve ever met who actually makes eye contact when talking to me instead of staring at my rack.”
“Please don’t call me a finance bro.”
“Okay, whatever you say,finance bro.” She snickers when I groan. “Anyway, it was amazing catching up, but I’m visiting my parents tomorrow, and I have an early train to Hamilton.”
“Makes sense, I won’t keep you. It was great to finally meet in person,” I say as we make our way out of the bar. We split up; Emily heads back to her place, and I go back to Stefano’s.
The apartment is empty when I arrive, so Stefano must still be at the lab. This is the first time in a week that I’m coming back to nobody, and the pang of loneliness that hits cuts through to the core.
It’s fine. I’m used to it.
Stefano and I wrap up our work early the next day and drive over to my family’s cottage in the Laurentides region, around two and a half hours away from Montreal. My parents are coming all the way from Toronto, so we beat them there. It’s a typical place for the region—large-ish with wood-clad walls and access to the water. A true home away from home.
“Alright, you know the drill,” I tell Stefano as we walk in. “Guest room is upstairs, don’t use all the hot water, and don’t get drunk on the boat.”
We aren’t taking the boat out. It’s November and neither of us have any desire to experience frostbite, but you never know.
My parents arrive while we’re upstairs, and we go to help them unload the car. They immediately refuse and shut the trunk, with Mom taking us inside and pouring us drinks before heading back out. The sun is setting, and I settle onto the couch that faces the floor-to-ceiling windows. Out of instinct, I whip my phone out to send Erik a picture of my scotch and the lake.
Chilling at the family cottage
How’s your night going?
Even though it’s been a month since he left, we text and call all the time. Nothing too serious, but he tells me about his new team, I tell him about work, and the two of us talk about our livesoutside of our jobs. If anything, it’s nice to have another friend. His texts are exactly zero percent flirty, so even though I still like him way too much, the lack of interest on his end will hopefully rub off on me.
Then my heart does a little flip as soon as his name pops up on my screen. Stupid, dumbass heart.
Nice
I’m at a cottage too
(PHOTO RECEIVED)
It’s a selfie, one that makes me malfunction. His face basks in an orange glow, probably from a fire, which gives his skin a golden hue that brings out those piercing blue eyes. He’s kept his facial hair—it’s trimmed to a tidy layer of stubble which accentuates how unfairly handsome he is. And that same shy smirk is playing on his lips, bringing the whole cozy, toque-wearing look together.
What I’d give to be there with him right now.
Damnit, I keep going through cycles of thinking that I’m about to get over Erik, only to fall for him even harder three seconds later.
“Who are you texting, buddy?” Stefano cuts in, and I immediately lock my phone. He sits down next to me on the arm of the couch, squeezing my shoulders. “You’re smiling like a lil’ cutie pie.”
I shrug his hands off. “Nobody.”
Stefano stares at me, his expression blank. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”
My poker face is terrible on the best of days, and today isn’t one of those, so I huff out a laugh. “Fine, I’m texting some guy I was talking to a while back.” Mindlessly, I swipe my phoneopen, and Erik’s ridiculous smoldering face fills my screen for the whole world to see.
Stefano coughs mid-breath. “Jesus Christ, that’s him? Nice job, buddy.”
“He moved across the world,” I deadpan.
“Oh, shit,” Stefano says. “You liked him?”
