Jerk

Danny takes a breath. “Look, I sense you’re getting frustrated. I told you we might not find a guy on the first night, but you have to trust—”

“Maybe I don’t want a guy. Let alone one that you find for me.”

“Is this because I was critical about your wardrobe earlier?”

“You think this is about clothes? Fucking clothes?? Look at us!” I gesture at him, then gesture at myself. “Your gorgeous ass is doing me no favors sitting on a stool next to me, pretending to be my hero, when all you are is the hot, sexy flame pulling the moths.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I …” Then he shakes his head and glares at me. “No, I’m not sorry. I tried to help. I thought there was something great between us. We hit it off. We were having fun. I thought—”

“Then why aren’t we going on a date, huh?”

Danny sputters and scoffs at me. “What?”

“You flirt with me,” I accuse him, rising from my stool. Our faces are mere inches apart. “You put your hands in my hair. Telling me my hair is perfect. Complimenting my body. Looking at me at the gym.”

“I’m not …” Either his face is red or the lighting in this place has gone Hellish. “I was just—”

“And so what if I flirt back a little? Who cares? You’re not really with Joey. He’s probably cheating on you. Why aren’t you with someone like me, Danny? Do you even love the guy in the mirror, or was that all a bunch of bullshit?”

“I’m in a relationship,” he states, like a declaration. “I’m happy with Joey. I’m not flirting with you. I’m not looking for anyone. I’m—”

“Yeah, I know, you only said it a hundred times already tonight to a hundred different men, none of whom wanted a thing to do with me. And I guess I’m number one hundred and one.” I yank my wallet out of my pocket so fast, it fumbles out of my hand. When I go to pick it up off the ground, all its contents fall out. “For fuck’s sake,” I shout as I start gathering my things off the ground.

A moment passes before I realize Danny has crouched down next to me, helping. We say nothing at all. As we both remain on all fours, picking up my crap from beneath our stools, we remain silent. Then he hands me my cash, my credit card, and a Starbucks gift card I was given for a birthday two years ago and never used. I stuff them away along with some other things that fell out.

He finds something else on the floor. “‘The happiest person is the one who knows themself,’” he reads, then hands it to me. “Fortune cookie?”

I take it and slip it into my wallet. My heart is racing with anger … or confusion. “It’s such a lie. I know myself perfectly, and … and look at me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

I glare at him. “Are you?”

He stares back, his full lips parted—his full, plush, velvety lips.

My heart pounds like a drum, staring at them.

Something comes over me.

I lunge forward and press my lips against his.

A split second of terror turns my thumping heart into ice.

Then his lips respond, kissing me back.

Flames. Bombs. Fireworks. Sparkling explosions. Pulse in my ears. The soft touch of his lips. The crackle of electricity in my fingertips.

I grab him by the shirt as our kiss deepens, pulling his face against mine. Then it isn’t enough, and my hands slide down his back to take hold of his ass. That only impassions him more as our kiss deepens. After a while, I don’t even know where our hands are.

I’m consumed.

Instantly, all of it makes sense. The anger. The confusion. The frustration between us. It’s because we both want each other. We can’t get enough of each other.

He doesn’t want to be my friend. He never did. He’s been lying to himself.

I’m the luckiest man in the—

Danny pulls away. “No, no. I can’t.”

I fall back on my heels, instantly mortified. “Oh, fuck.”

“Romeo, I shouldn’t have …” Danny shuts his eyes, anguished.

What was I thinking?

“I’m sorry, Danny. This was a terrible idea. I …” He still won’t open his eyes. He can’t even bear to look at me. I get the message. “I’ll go.”

I rise from the floor at once, slap enough money on the counter for the both of us, then see myself out of the bar.

9. Games

The dog proudly buys Boardwalk.

Everyone groans.

The dice roll again, and the thimble loses some bucks on Baltic Avenue.

The top hat sighs quite wearily and goes to jail, suffering another bout of bad luck.

Then everyone waits for the boot to take its turn.

Everyone continues waiting for that boot.

They wait and they wait.

They wait and—“Oh my god, Rome, seriously, are you even playing??”