"Was that weird, Lock?" I asked when he finished gnawing at his foot. "That was odd, right? Like there were some strange moments. I know, I know. You only have eyes for Lillybean, but would it kill you to pay attention to the vibe between Crosby and me for five minutes, so you can tell me if I am being a lunatic or not? I mean, of course I'm being a lunatic. I'm asking my dog to do a vibe-check for me. Okay. Anyway. Want to go for your quick tree-pee before bed?" I asked, climbing off the couch.
Without the promise of seeing his girlfriend, Lock was always a bit less enthusiastic about his evening walk. He stretched for a solid two minutes before getting fully off the couch, walking over to me to let me leash him up, then moseying down the hall, out onto the street, and making short work of his final potty trip of the night.
"We're going to have a double-date tomorrow night," I told Lock in bed half an hour later, feeling the alcohol like a fuzzy warm blanket on my brain, urging me to sleep. "Well, I mean, not a double-date, double-date. You know how it is. It's not like that."
In that strange in-between moment right before sleep, though, there was one little lingering thought I couldn't shake.
But did I want it to be like that?CHAPTER FOURCrosby"How goes Operation: Get The Girl?" Clarence asked, lounging on my couch, swiping left through his dating app while letting out the occasional critique on whatever guy's profile he was reading.
Lillybean was sleeping on his feet, dressed in the truly ridiculous Tiffany-blue and white-silk ribbon pajamas he'd made her himself. He often quipped that if his career didn't pan out, he could always fall back on dog fashion to pay the bills.
"We are onto day two," I told him, making my coffee, then reaching to steam the milk for Clarence's latte.
"So... no boning yet?"
"'Boning'," I repeated, rolling my eyes.
"It's making a comeback. Ew. Who thinks I want to look at pictures of you holding up a dead fish?" he grumbled, aggressively swiping left. "Look, I know you have it all planned out. But sometimes, you have to just... grab love by the balls. Or by whatever weird, flowery stuff ladies have going on down there," he said, waving toward his lap.
Weird, flowery stuff.
This was coming from the child of an OBGYN and a fertility specialist. We had been acutely aware of the "weird, flowery stuff" that women had "down there" since we were eight or nine years old. Along with how it all worked. And, during a particularly uncomfortable conversation when we were in our early teens, how to stimulate the female erogenous zones. Clarence still joked that the conversation was the moment he realized he was gay, though we all had an inkling of the fact when he was eight, and informed us all that he was going to grow up to be Audrey Hepburn while he braided the hair of Noel's Barbies.
"I don't want to screw it up," I admitted, handing him his latte as I sat down in the chair across from him.
"That is the exact mindset that has kept you longing after her for years, Cros."
That wasn't entirely true. At the beginning, while I'd always thought she was a knockout, it had truly just been casual. You know... for about a month. And that was when it all went downhill for me. By then, though, I was her friend that she went on walks with and ate pretzels with and caught dinner with.
The door of opportunity felt like it had already slammed in my face.
"She doesn't like guys all in her face," I insisted. I knew that. Because I'd seen it when we were out with friends time and time again. Anyone who got too assertive with her got shot down ruthlessly. "She likes a more casual approach."
"There's casual and there's brotherly. I'm just saying," Clarence said, holding up his hand at me.
"Anyway. We are going to walk down Fifth Avenue tonight."
"Jealous. But that could be romantic enough for a kiss."
"I'm not rushing it."
"You have twelve days. Well, no. Now eleven. Everything needs to be sped up a little."
"There's time. I am playing it by ear. There was a minute last night when things felt... different."
"At this point, do I really need to ask you for details? We are on Chapter Seventy-Five, page two-thousand-and-three of the Crosby Loves Dea Chronicles. I'm invested in this."
"We were sitting on the couch and I caught her staring at my stomach."
"Oh, wow. Bro. If her looking at your stomach is proof of something, then everyone at the gym must be woefully in lust with you."
"It was different. She was looking-looking," I insisted, finding it hard to explain. There was just something about it. "There was a vibe."