“It’s fine,” David said, but he looked surprised. A little wary, like he wasn’t sure what he was signing up for after all.
Jacob looked down at the lease. He’d clenched it when he started his tirade. He smoothed it out, muttering another apology, and went to sign his initial on the first page.
Nothing happened. The pen moved uselessly, no ink coming out.
“Ah,” David said. “My apologies. Let me get you another.”
“No, I got it.” Jacob reached to his shirt pocket, glad once again for his pocket protector. Then he stopped.
His fingers brushed a pen. But it wasn’t the only thing he was touching: there, in the depths of his shirt pocket, was a tiny tube of Felix’s hand cream. He kept a few in his shirt pocket sometimes, in case the one in his pants pocket ran out.
An unnameable emotion squeezed Jacob’s heart. But before Jacob could shove it into the depths of his mind, it became clear: regret. He couldn’t shove these feelings down anymore. Felix had unleashed them, and they wouldn’t go away.
“Is everything okay?” David asked.
“Yeah,” Jacob croaked, automatic. He cleared his throat, which was uncomfortably thick. “I think… I think I need to take another day to think about it.”
“Oh,” said David. “If that’s what you need.”
He sounded surprised. Jacob didn’t blame him—they’d been talking about this for months. Jacob made the poor guy talk to hisparents.
“Are you sure everything is alright?” David continued.
“Everything’s great,” Jacob replied, pushing the lease and David’s worthless pen back onto the coffee table. “I just need to check on something.”
The apartment building hallway smelled like old cheese. But there were no cracks in the wallpaper, no water damage, and most importantly, no evidence of insects. Jacob had been worried.
He knocked on the door then stood back, straightening his hair.
It’s just Felix,he reminded himself.He won’t laugh at you, even if you do tell him. You’ll always be friends. He promised.
The door opened. Jacob took a deep breath…
…then let it out in a shocked whoosh when he saw the man in the doorway.
“Jack,” Jacob said warily. “What are you doing here?”
Jack Smith snorted. He had a beer in his hand and his stubble was thicker than usual, his eye bags more pronounced. Jacob wondered how many essays he’d had to mark this week in between his various part-time jobs.
“He hasn’t told you yet,” Jack said flatly.
“Told me what?” Jacob said, his voice pitching embarrassingly high.
“Jesus Christ, kid. Calm down.” Jack took a swig of his beer and turned back to shout into the apartment: “FELIX! Tell your guy before he has an aneurysm.”
“Tell me what?” Jacob demanded.
Shane jogged up, considerably less flushed than when he was moving boxes. “Hey, you’re here. That means we can eat.”
“And yell,” called Nate from somewhere in the apartment.
Jack stood back to let Jacob come inside. Jacob eyed the scant few boxes stacked along the wall. The apartment opened right into the living room, where Nate was sitting at a table filled with a gorgeous dinner, scrolling through his phone.
“Yell,” Jacob said, closing the apartment door behind him. “Why are we yelling?”
“You know Felix,” Shane said, heading to the table and sitting next to Nate. “He loves to yell. Especially in public.”
“They’re going to the roof,” Jack said, taking the spot across from them. “Gonna piss off the neighbors by screaming about how it’s their very first night in their very first apartment.I’mgonna stay here and drink all the beer.”
