Eve squeezes my bicep again. "I know I'm biased, but I took a chance on Jamie and look how that ended up."
"I'm not falling in love with the man, Eve. It's just dinner."
"Dinner tonight, tomorrow love."
I roll my eyes at her but can’t help but smile. She's been bugging me to give love a chance ever since she and Jamie shacked up. Her voice lowers, though, and is laced with sincerity when she adds, "I just want to see you happy. It's too easy in our line of work to think we don't deserve love and happiness. But you do, Trey."
"Not everyone falls in love. Not everyone needs love. I'm happy for you two, truly, but it's just not for me. I don't think I remember how to compromise anymore, and I'm happy with the way things are."
There's a skeptical silence that falls around our little trio.
I lead Eve to their car before bending and dropping a kiss to her cheek. Jamie gives me a manly hug/slap on the back before leaving me with his parting wisdom.
"It's just dinner. What's the worst that could happen?"
Chapter four
Trey
Iwalk into Craft Iron, already annoyed and on edge. I regret texting him back to meet me. I'm equal-parts curious and aloof when it comes to meeting Gareth again and hearing his apology. Logically, I know it doesn't matter, but do I want to see him try to explain himself anyway? Yeah, I do.
I have the upper hand in this situation. It's in a public place, so I can leave at any time. And I've put on a hundred pounds of muscle since high school, so I'm not worried about more bullying.
I scan the restaurant as the hostess approaches, but see Gareth right away. His eyes slide over me, uninterested, until they slide back to my face and widen. He drags his gaze up and down my body appreciatively and stands, buttoning his suit coat nervously.
I excuse myself to the hostess and head toward Gareth's table. He flashes me a charming, but wary smile, and the dimple in his chin is as prominent as ever. He looks like the all-American frat kid still, just aged a bit.
Damn him, he's still handsome. I was hoping for a widow's peak and a beer belly. He does look a bit soft around the middle, likely from alcohol or a desk job. Funny how those two things create the same results.
I've got an inch or two over him, though, so he has to look up at me when he shakes my hand.
"Damn man, you sure grew up," he says with a smile. One that I don't return. I shake his hand quickly and sit in the empty chair.
He sits, too, but then he leans forward. "Shit, am I supposed to pull out your chair for you? How does that work with a gay couple?" he whispers.
I hold up a hand. "Firstly, this isn't a date, and secondly, I'm a whole ass man, capable of pulling out his own chair, got it?"
Gareth's eyes widen in surprise, and he leans back. Before I can demand he get on with his apology, though, the waiter shows up and asks for our drink order. I order a bourbon neat, and Gareth orders a tonic water.
When she leaves, I wave him a hand in a "continue" motion.
He smooths his hands against the table and stares at it in concentration.
"Uh... so... okay, I owe you an apology..." His eyes flick up to find mine. "Or maybe a million apologies. I was awful to you. I know that. And while I could blame it on boys being boys, I now know that that wasn't it." The waiter returns with our drinks and he takes a sip of his water. "Wow, I really suck at this." He clears his throat. So far, I'm unimpressed. "Okay, so, um, after college I got married..."
"Congratulations," I interrupt with a droll tone.
He shakes his head. His neck and cheeks are turning red and he’s flustered. It's an unexpected change of pace from the boy I knew in high school. High-school-Gareth was always cocky and cock-sure. "No, it's not... thank you... but what I mean to say is,I got married to the perfect woman, and had two amazing kids, but I couldn't stop drinking. I was getting blackout drunk every night and all day during the weekends. Lindsey divorced me and took the kids until I went to rehab. I got into a program, and I am sober now. But I also started going to therapy to understand why I was drinking so much..."
"What does any of this have to do with me?" I interrupt, already eyeing the exit.
He must sense that I have one foot out the door already, so he rushes to finish his story.
"I realized, in therapy, that I was drinking so much to avoid sleeping with my wife. Because I'm not as straight as I once thought. Back in high school? I was attracted to you. I thought about you all the time, checked you out when no one was looking, and I resented and hated that attraction so much. I had so much anger and self-loathing for being attracted to another man. I married the perfect woman and had the perfect kids and career and was still miserable because it wasn'tme."
I had expected some sort of this story - it’s a typical one - but to hear that he was fighting his attraction for me? That, I didn't expect. I was small back then, thin, and brown. He was the stereotypical gorgeous jock with a new girl hanging on his arm every week.
"Look, I know you don't owe me forgiveness, you don't even owe me dinner, but I appreciate being able to come clean to you. How I treated you has been a heavy guilt I've carried for a long time. I just want you to know how badly I regret how I treated you, and if I could, I'd go back in time and kick seventeen-year-old Gareth's ass."