Leaning against the door frame, he crosses his arms with a raise of his brows, and he’s obviously right, so I just nod.
“Good boy,” he says. Pushing off the door frame, he walks over to my bed and ruffles my hair like he used to do when I was small.
I feel pretty small right now.
“You’re a good man, Griff, and I–” he hesitates, clearing his throat. “I’m not good with the touchy-feely stuff, but I’m proud of you.”
With a final pat on my shoulder, he walks out of my room, leaving me feeling even worse.
He shouldn’t be proud of me. I have royally fucked everything up. I’m ignoring David’s texts, Eleanor is ignoring mine, and Jack said he won’t come over until I’m willing to talk about it.
I push myself up with a groan, and sit on the edge of my bed with my elbows on my knees.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to patch things up with Eleanor, but my dad’s right–there’s at least one thing I can fix.
***
I ring the doorbell and wait nervously on David’s front porch. I don’t know if I’ve ever rang the doorbell. I usually just let myself in with the key I’ve had for almost ten years.
“Griffin! Hi!”
David’s mom, Victoria, looks at me with wide eyes, her mouth open in a surprisedO.
“David didn’t tell me you were back in town! How was your trip?”
My trip…?
She steps aside, and it hits me once I’m inside.
I guess I’m not the only one who’s not talking about this.
“Um, yeah, it was great,” I respond, trying to sound like I definitely know what she’s talking about. “We got back a day early, I figured I’d just come over instead of calling.”
“Well, it sure is good to see your face,” she says warmly, patting my cheek. “David’supstairs in his room”
I head upstairs, my thoughts working overtime to figure out what exactly I should say here. AndhowI should say it–I viscerally cringe at the thought of another shouting match.
His door is open, but he’s got his headphones on, laser focused on his computer. I knock on the door to get his attention, and when he looks up at me his laptop falls to the floor.
“Ah, shit,” he curses under his breath, leaning over to pick it up and knocking everything off his bedside table in the process.
I let out a snort of laughter, and sit in the chair at his desk. Once he gets all his stuff back where it belongs, he looks up at me and I can hardly recognize him.
Shit, he looks terrified. Was I that bad?
I don’t bother answering my own question–I know I was.
“Hey man,” I say in a low voice. “How’ve you been?”
Still looking like he’s scared I’m going to deck him, he swallows before answering, “Uh, okay I guess. I told my mom you were out of town, sorry if you had to explain that.”
“Yeah, she mentioned that.”
After a few beats of awkward silence, we both start at the same time.“Listen man–”
“Bro I–”
He smiles at me sheepishly, and I gesture at him to go first.
