I will admit, I’m a tiny bit freaked out by what he might have to say, but he’s my roommate and best friend of so many years, so I have to trust that even if it’s bad, we can work through it. Also, I’ve given things a lot of thought on the walk over here from the office, and have had a chance to adopt a casual, totally-nothing-odd-going-on demeanor, which is probably the reason I kick back, fold my arms, and await what he’s going to say like some bored, totally petulant teenager. Go ahead and give me my gold star for lovely behavior, teacher; I’m totally earning it.
“First off,” Elijah begins, “you know I know you’ve been acting funny lately. Like, abnormally funny.”
“Okay.”
“Four years of high school and three years of college, and you have never undone a single lace on the knee-high boot of your … uptightness.”
“Nice metaphor.”
“I know.” He runs a hand through his messy dark brown hair. “Now, you’ve all but torn that boot off. You’re telling me about all these extra things you’re being held back at the office to do, which I know are all lies.”
I part my lips to protest, then think the better of it, allowing him to go on.
“You stayed out past two in the morning, dude. Like, even I wouldn’t do that on a work night.”
“Really?” I interrupt, unable to help myself. “When the new Grand Theft Auto game came out last fall, you’re telling me you didn’t stay up until five in the morning knowing you had a final exam the next morning for Geology?”
“That’s not the same thing! It was Geology! Rocks! What’s so hard about that? Don’t distract me.”
I sigh. “Go on, then, Captain High Horse.”
“You don’t know this, but …” Elijah takes a deep breath, then lets out his next words with it. “I sorta made a deal with your mom and dad before you came to live with me.”
“You what?”
“I told them I’d look after you. Be a big bro. Blah, blah. And you know how your parents are,” he goes on with a dramatic lift of his eyebrows. “They are … a certain kind of people.”
“So you’re supposed to be babysitting me? Is that what you’re so upset about? That me and my diaper loads are such a handful?”
Elijah shoots me a hard look. “Yeah, bro. That’s my issue,” he replies sarcastically. “And now we need to schedule a spanking until you learn your lesson.”
“Please, Elijah, stop, you’re turning me on,” I spit back dryly.
He leans over the table. “The point is, Trevor, my sweet love, you used to tell me everything. But lately, you’re all dirty, shady, out all night, and probably have toilet herpes by now.”
I bring my head down and hide my face from the view of our neighboring tables, all the occupants of which are looking our way now. “Toilet herpes??” I hiss. “Really, Elijah?”
“Hey, I don’t know what kind of weird back-alley clubs you’re hitting up after work until two in the morning!”
“Shhh!”
“How am I going to explain to your poor parents all the exotic rash creams you’re gonna need? These things keep me up at night, Trevor. You know, while you’re out gettin’ your bang on.”
I’m shielding my face with both hands now, flames rushing up my cheeks. “So this is why you brought me here?” I ask quietly, muffled through my hands. “To humiliate your best friend?”
Elijah grips my wrists and pulls my hands back down to the table, then looks me in the eye. “I want my studious, determined, stick-up-his-ass buddy back.”
I frown, still red-faced. “You hate stick-up-his-ass Trevor.”
“Right now, I’m loving stick-up-his-ass Trevor. I miss him. I need to put that stick right back up his bum. We were interning together at Gage Communications and we cared about doing hard work, impressing the supervisors … and the boss. This new Trevor sneaks away into bathroom stalls to diddle with guys like skinny-tie Isaac.”
I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t Isaac,” I groan.
Elijah smiles victoriously. “Process of elimination, buddy. One pretty boy at a time. I will get to the bottom of this,” he promises. “Unless the dude’s a top. Wait. Are you the bottom? I forget how it works. You gay guys are so confusing.”
Just then, our food arrives in the form of two hot, cheesy pizzas being slapped in front of us. The steam alone gives my face a long-needed bath as I peer over it, starved.
When our mouths are full of our first bites, we stare at each other across the table, all the words we didn’t dare utter hanging invisible in the pizza steam between us.
Chewing, I ask, “We good, then?”
After he swallows his bite, takes a full ten seconds to chug down a gulp or six of his Coke, and dabs his mouth daintily with a napkin, he gives me a curt nod, then adds, “We’re good … as long as you’re open with me, stop all this silly pussyfooting around, and don’t give me any reason to worry that my best bud is throwing his career away on some mystery office dick.”