"Anytime," I reply without thinking. I don’t regret this offer the same way I did with Nate.
I look away from his face and cut a small bit of chicken.
"Did you have a good time?” He asks casually.
"With what?" I know exactly what he's asking, but I'm not going to make it easy on him.
"Your date," the word date is spat from his mouth.
"I don't know if I'd call it a good time----" I leave the response hanging.
"Oh? What would you call it?" I'm kinda in a corner here. I could lie and tell him I had a great time or I could tell him the truth.
"Why do you wanna know?” I say after biting the tip off a spear of asparagus. I'm stalling.
He shrugs
I sigh, "It was pretty horrible. I don't have much to compare it to, but I wanted to go home before he asked for the bill." His eyes crinkle as he grins. "Somehow we got on the topic of ferrets and feet." I shudder, "I think they were related.” I finish with, “The worst part is he kept complaining to our waiter about how when his mom makes his sandwich, she always adds just the right amount of mustard." I slide my hand across the other indicating the spread.
"What the fuck is he doing with a ferret and feet?"
I throw my hands in the air, "I know right. He lets his ferret sleep on his feet."
He looks properly repulsed, "Nasty."
I bob my head, “It was just weird. I don't think I'll ever forgive Jess. She's been hounding me to go out with that guy for months."
Beau stops eating and ask me, "What made you say yes now?"
I purse my lips, "Honestly?"
"Always," he confirms.
"No one has ever been here before," I twirl my finger indicating my home. "I liked having someone here because it wasn't so lonely. It was nice having a friend." I hope that wasn't too much, but I asked if he wanted the truth.
"Couldn't I be your friend?" He sounds sincere.
"I'm not sure you're a very good friend." I say regrettably. I look down and see my plate is mostly full and now cold. I push it to the ottoman having lost my appetite.
Beau doesn't deny my claim. The sad part is, I know he could be a good friend. He was a great listener, before he left, and he seems truly empathetic, until he gets scared off. He isn’t perfect, but I know he would be a good friend. I wish he could be more, but I'd settle for friend.
"I liked being with you too. I had to stop myself from seeing you everyday. Yesterday, I just lost the fight." His hand is clinched on his thigh. "There's a lot of shit going on in my life right now, and I'm not sure I want it contaminating you. There's a lot you don't know about me." He stands and takes a few steps toward the kitchen, before turning to face me again.
I want to ask what it is I don't know, but I don't. I want to ask why his life is so hard right now, but I don't. I settle for telling him, "I'm not weak you know. I know it may seem like I'm fragile, but I'm not."
Beau grabs the back of his neck in frustration, "That's not what I meant at all. I'm just not sure I want you exposed to this shit." I can tell he's struggling with what he wants to tell me.
"I like hanging out with you and watching you at your bookstore with your friends. I like the way you make me feel. You don't have an ulterior motive to get to know me. Hell, the first time I tried to talk to you, you wouldn't give me the time of day. I watched you with that boy and that guy from the market. You were truly kind, not because you wanted something or someone was watching, but just because that's who you are. This may surprise you, but kindness has become extremely rare in my world.”
He drops his arm slapping his outer thigh. His body goes rigid, "Then you tell me about that fucker, and I want to break his hands and maybe even his neck. I want to know his name, where he lives, so I can make sure you don't have to keep looking over your shoulder.” He looks up at me struggling to keep composure, “I don't know how to deal with this shit, and that's not even including the major fuck up my life is right now." He's almost pants in agitation as he finishes.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay?" He questions back incredulously.
"Okay, I can understand most of that, but I can't be a better friend to you, unless you let me." I reply simply.
"You are unreal. I just tell you I'm struggling with not killing your step-father and that my life is shit right now, and you what to be a better friend to me? It’s unbelievable." Beau's hands are on his narrow hips, and his head is hung low as he stares at the floor. I'm not sure what else to say. I don't care if he has stuff he's not ready to talk about. I have things I don’t want to share either. And while I am not a fan of violence, it most certainly doesn't bother me that he would like to kill Darryl. I've thought about it for years. I know neither of us would really do it.
