Page 12 of The Hang Up
“Brat,” he said with a low growl as he grabbed my shoulders, and I knew if he tried to kiss me, I wouldn’t stop him. How could I when I’d wanted this—him—for so long?
But then my cell phone buzzed, and Joshua stepped back.
I tried to clear my head. Get my bearings as I read Nevaeh’s text. “I have to go.”
“Brock…”
“No. I…believe you. But we can’t meet or do any of this. Sean is my best friend. And—” I stopped and rearranged the words in my head. “There’s too much going on. I…care about you. But that’s nothing new for me. I’ve learned how to deal with it. Goodbye, Joshua.”
“Goodbye, Brock.”
I started to walk away but then turned. “And, Joshua? Find someplace else to eat.”
* * *
I liedto Joshua when I said I’d learned how to deal with it. This was nothing like before. When I’d taken care of him before, I’d mistaken his kindness, gratitude, smiles, and warmth for love. But now, the way he looked at me—the intensity—was completely different. It was like comparing a red bell pepper to a habanero.
Three weeks later, I was wondering what could have been if I’d just been brave enough or stupid enough to give him a chance.
I tried to hold it together around Sean, but he didn’t take anything seriously. He’d always been able to charm his way through life. He was irresistible, with messy blond hair and green eyes that sparkled with mischief. His impulsive and outgoing personality had drawn me in as a kid, and we’d been friends ever since. I’d never thought of us being anything more. Probably because I’d reserved that spot for his dad.
None of this was Sean’s fault. Not really. But when he complained one morning about his trust fund being limited, I suggested he talk to his dad. Sean had shut me down completely. I wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive his dad. And my loyalty was to my best friend.
So why couldn’t I stop thinking about Joshua?
“Can you give me a hint?” I asked Sean a week later when he was grumpy after work. “Does it have to do with Mr. Boss Man McHottiepants?” That was our nickname for Ben, his boss. I wasn’t exactly sure what their relationship was at this point, but I thought kissing was involved.
“I wish I could tell you, but it’s not my stuff to tell, you know?” He plopped onto the couch. “But Ben is good.” His face lit up, and I could see how gone he was. “He’s perfect.”
I was happy for him—I’d never seen him this hung up on a guy before. But I was also worried. He always blew through his yearly allowance from his trust fund within the first few months. It was his way of saying fuck you to his dad. He could get more money, within reason. He just had to get and keep a steady job. Something Sean had not been able—or willing—to do until now.
But this stuff with his boss put his job at risk, and I needed him to bring in a regular paycheck because of Angel’s stuff. He’d been working at Coxx Communications for almost two months. And not counting his job at Arby’s in high school, it was a record.
But I got it. His dad hadn’t been around much when he was growing up because he’d been too busy working nonstop building a tech company and becoming a billionaire. His dad had pushed everyone away, destroying his marriage and their family. All because money and work were the most important things to him. Of course that was Sean’s version. I knew most of that wasn’t true. But my job, as his friend, was to support him.
Not to fantasize about kissing his dad.
I’d always worked. My dad had been truly absent, so I’d helped my mom. We’d always done okay, but we’d never had a mansion. A swimming pool. Trips to other countries—except when Sean had invited me along.
Still, it was hard to listen to him whine about money. Or his dad.
“How’s Angel?”
“Good. She said you owe her a rematch inZombie World.”
He laughed. “Tell her she’s on. How’s the radiation going?”
“Good.” Mostly. I didn’t mention how exhausted Angel was after treatments. Or the nausea and vomiting. He had enough to worry about.
“She’s going to be okay.”
I nodded. “Wanna playBorderlands?” I needed something else to think about.
“Hell yeah.”
Things were good…until the next day. It started with my classes. And being late. I was never late, but I hadn’t been sleeping well, and I’d only gotten a few hours. Then my mom had called. She’d tried to hold it together, but the bills for Angel’s treatments were adding up. I’d known, but when she told me how much she owed currently—and the treatments weren’t even finished yet—I’d had to sit down. How would we ever pay those off? And I couldn’t help her. Not really. I gave what I could, but I was still paying for school and most of the bills here.
After that, I’d been too distraught to go to work. I found someone to cover, hoping I could make up the hours later.
