“Why?”
“Because…” I sighed, laying a hand over my stomach and staring at the ceiling. “Becausebefore, I thought it was something I could maybe get better from. Or at thevery least make it manageable to the point of being nearly nonexistent. Butthis has the potential to become completely debilitating. It’s already put mein thefreakin’ hospital once.”
“Butmaybe that’s the only time,” she offered gently.
“Ormaybe it’s the first of many,” I countered. “There are people out there who areconstantlyin the hospital with this crap, Molls. They need bloodtransfusions, they can’t work, and they can barely maintain relationships …” Isighed, allowing myself a moment to remember Ali’s bitterness toward me and myissues. “So, yeah, I think differently about myself, and I’m justthinkin’, maybe other people will, too.”
“Well,these guys don’t,” she assured me, “and I definitely don’t.”
“Yeah,well, that’s because you’re my best friends. You’re not supposed to turn yourback on me.”
“Okay,”she relented. “I’ll give you that.”
Shamefully,I wondered if things would be different if shewasmy girlfriend. I wondered if she’d eventually start to care. Ifit would begin to bother her when I’d have to cancel plans or spend the entirenight out in the bathroom of a restaurant. If I gained a ton of weight whilebeing on round after round of corticosteroids. If the entire world found outand decided to blast me for it on social media, how would she think of me then,if I was more than just her best friend? Would she be embarrassed? Ashamed?
Iswallowed and wondered if it’d be easier to ask, while she wasn’t facing me.“What if we weren’t friends?”
“Huh?”
Oh,Christ. Regret pinched my eyes and I laid a hand over my forehead. What was Igetting myself into? “How would you feel about me if we weren’t friends?”
“Okay…” She hesitated for a moment, and said, “Give me an example.”
“Well,um …” My palms were sweating, my heart was racing, and I was pretty sure it hadnothing to do with the drugs. “So, let’s say you and I met at a bar. We likeeach other, hit it off right away, and eventually, it comes out that I havethis disease. You ask what it entails, so I tell you. How would you feel then?What would you do?”
Ilistened as her breath hit the phone. I listened as she swallowed. I listenedas my heart pounded in my ears and berated my mouth for saying anything at all.
“So,since you’reaskin’,” she finally replied, “I’mguessin’ you want me to be honest, right?”
“Obviously.”
“Well,”she began breathlessly, “I’d probably tell you that it sucks, because it does.Maybe I’d even feel a little bad for you, because that’s how I am. But then,I’d admire you forbein’ so honest and unashamed toadmit to something that most people would probably stay quiet about. And Ithink that, along with the fact that you’re already drop-dead gorgeous, itwould make you the most attractive man I’d ever been in contact with.”
Myvision blurred to the ceiling and my lips parted with the intent of sayingsomething profound, but all I could muster was, “Molly, I …”
“So,”she interjected, “to answer your question of what I’ddo, I wouldn’teven wait to get your number. I’d get it right away, and if I’mbein’completelyhonest, I’d probably invite youback to my place. Because I’d be a total moron to let a guy like you get away.And then, Morgan and I would probably meet in the kitchen to talk about the guyI met at a bar. And she’d talk about Benny or whoever, about how they’rethe one…”
Ilaughed, sounding choked and husky. “You shouldn’t ditch a guy post-orgasm.That’s so rude.”
“Oh,please.” I knew she rolled her eyes, and I laughed again. “Guys pass out rightaway, anyway. You wouldn’t even know I’d left.”
“Somedo,” I pointed out. “You have noidea about me.”
“Well?”
“Well,what?” I asked, my mouth curling into a sly grin.
“Doyou pass out immediately afterward? Or are you one of those rare breeds thatsnuggles and whispers sweet nothings?”
Ibarked a laugh. “God, wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Iwould, actually.”
Well,that shut me up. I scraped my teeth over my bottom lip, unsure of how toproceed. I loved this change in our conversations. The playful flirtation, thecoy commentary. But this was different. This was real, and for the first timesince my invitation to take her out for her birthday, I wondered if I wasn’tthe only one wishing for something more. If that emotionally driven almost-kissin the tour bus wasn’t just a fluke.
“Chad?”Now, she sounded worried. Like she’d said too much.
Ihurried to reply. “Yeah?”
