Jerk

Prisha shakes her head. “That explains why you didn’t want to go with us to the gym yesterday or today.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that, too.” I lie down on my side, sulking. A part of me might be on top of Juan’s feet. I can’t tell. “I’m pretty much convinced now that I’ll be single for-fucking-ever.”

“Rome …”

“All the good guys are taken, and they’re all taken by the bad guys. The ass-wipes. The douchebags. The jerks. Is that what it’s gonna take?” I ask her, at my wit’s end. “Do I have to become a jerk to get a decent guy to even look at me?”

“Um, guys?” mutters Juan, his face appearing suddenly under the table. “We can kinda hear you.”

“Yeah,” says Marissa, appearing at the other side. “Every word.”

“And for the record,” says Juan, “I might be straight, but I love you the way you are, Rome. Don’t change a thing about yourself. The right guy will come along someday.”

“Yeah,” agrees Marissa. “I mean, not right now while I’m in jail and Prisha’s got Boardwalk and Juan keeps getting nickel-and-dimed at Baltic Avenue. But maybe here in the real world, the right guy is out there for you.”

“So how about we roll that dice, huh?” suggests Juan.

I glance at my coworker Juan and Prisha’s neighbor Marissa. Their words aren’t that encouraging. I still envision my love life as a dark, bottomless abyss full of bitter dissatisfaction and misery. They don’t really know me. Maybe not even Prisha.

Maybe not even myself.

Until that fateful night, I wasn’t a guy who’d ever dare to kiss someone who has a boyfriend. But there I was, on the sticky floor beneath old bar stools, with my lips locked on the lips of the man of my dreams making the worst mistake of my life.

What is happening to me?

“Yeah,” I say anyway. “Let’s do it.”

I don’t win. In fact, I don’t think we even finish the game. At some point, I nearly fall out of my chair, then realize I need to sit down somewhere else while the others play. Before I know it, the game is all packed up, Juan and Marissa are gathering their things to leave, and I’m staring at another empty bottle I just finished off, wondering where it all went.

The truth is, Danny was my ideal. He was my ultimate ideal for what I want in a guy.

Maybe there is some sick truth to my fears. I might have thought that one day, he and Joey would break up, and then I’d get my chance. Joey is only in the way—for now.

But then I kissed Danny. And now I’ve selfishly soiled my own dream. I showed him a mountain of insecurities.

My worst shortcomings. My jealousies. My ignorance.

Every worst side of me.

I destroyed the only dream I have left.

“I’m calling you an Uber,” says Prisha when it’s just us left, Juan and Marissa having gone home.

“Don’t,” I say, scoffing. “I just live a few blocks away.”

She pockets her phone. “Then we’re walking.” She takes hold of my arm and lifts me out of the chair. “Let’s go. Up!”

I have no idea how we manage to get out of her apartment, down her stairwell, and onto the street. But here we are, walking side-by-side under the shimmery, pale lights of streetlamps, and she has my arm tucked against her like my life depends on it. Each streetlamp we pass seems screamingly loud and way too bright.

It’s at the crosswalk just before my apartment complex that it hits Prisha. “Wait a sec.”

Leaning against the light post, I lift a woozy eyebrow her way. “Hmm?”

“Danny. The guy at the gym.” She gawks at me. “Is he your secret crush you mentioned before?”

I don’t know if I have the capacity to even begin this conversation. “I never said that.”

“Holy fuck, it totally is him. He’s your crush? A guy who’s already got a boyfriend?”

The crosswalk light turns, but neither of us go. “Okay, I really don’t want a lecture. My migraine isn’t gone yet, and I’m seeing six of you, and it’s hard enough just dealing with one …”

“And you went out with him? As your so-called wingman? Are you crazy?”

With each question she bullets at me, I feel dumber and dumber. “Prisha, I know how it sounds …”

“I’m not stupid. You went along with it as an excuse to get closer to your crush.” Her eyes turn into two black abysses of condemnation. “He’s taken, Rome. He’s off-limits. You should have respected his relationship and not agreed to go out with him. What were you even thinking?”

I must be a glutton for punishment tonight, because I’m about to say the thing. “That’s not the worst of it.”

Her harsh eyes flicker. “What do you mean?”

I gaze at the street, unable to meet her eyes when I say it. “I … kinda accidentally kissed him.”