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“I still think we should’ve bailed,” he says under his breath.
“Can you be positive for like two seconds?”
“Sure.” He counts to two. “Time’s up. Can we leave now?”
I laugh and elbow him.
“Hey, you haven’t given me a fact about you yet today.” I try to get him to think of something else while we go up to the seventh floor.
“Seriously? You want to do this now?”
“Oh yeah.” I snicker. “And none of that ‘my favorite color is green’ crap. I want something meaningful.”
He draws a breath and starts thinking—probably of a way to get himself out of this one like he did the others—and rubs at the back of his neck.
He’s been making sure not to give me the good stuff since he started telling me one secret a day. In the past seven days, I’ve learned that his first dog’s name is Buster, that he used to have a really hard time going to the dentist as a kid because he’d always bite, that he’s left-handed, that he hates pickles, that he’s allergic to bees, and a bunch of other facts, but nothing that might help me understand what happened for him to be so untrusting. As much as I appreciate the little things, they still feel like a gate keeping me from accessing his heart.
The elevator doors open, granting us access to a long hallway.
“Which apartment is it again?” I ask.
“It’s 306.” Haze walks ahead. I assume he remembers the way from the last time he was here.
We stop in front of the right door and knock. A dog starts barking.
“Just a minute,” a female, most likely Bea, says.
I turn to him. “Don’t think you’re getting away with it. I want my fact.”
Approaching footsteps can be heard in the apartment. Locks rattle on the other side. Just when I think we won’t have time, he hits me with the one sentence I did not expect.
“I don’t believe in male and female friendship.”
Did he just…
The door opens in a creak, and it takes all I have not to let my jaw hang. A smiling Bea and a barking pug stand in the doorway.
“Hey, guys. So glad you could make it. Please, come in.”
We step inside and exchange pleasantries. Vic turns the corner and joins his girlfriend in greeting us. I try to listen to what they’re saying, but all I can think about is how Haze just acknowledged that we’re full of shit.
He knows we’re not friends.
Bea picks up her pug and drags me into the kitchen while Vic takes Haze to what he likes to call his sports room. The small talk begins. I pet Rory, the excited dog, and nod along to what Beatrice is saying, but deep down, I know…
This is going to be a long day.
Haze
“She seems really nice.” Vic’s voice echoes in the almost empty room. We’ve been talking and watching a football game for a good hour and a half now. I’d be worried about leaving Winter alone with someone she doesn’t know if it wasn’t for how often we hear her and Bea laughing in the kitchen. Vic and I keep discussing useless topics I’m sure he isn’t really interested in. I know what he truly wants to ask me, but he can’t. He promised.
He hasn’t changed one bit. He’s still the same good old Vic who’s obsessed with anything that rhymes with sports. I’ll never say it out loud, but I missed that. I missed just hanging out with him. I’ve been missing having a friend I could trust ever since the day I left town.
The West side isn’t loyal, and I know it. They’re loyal to whoever’s the strongest. I’ve been dodging their calls. They’re wondering where the hell I ran off to, and I get it. I don’t know how much longer I can keep telling them that I’m off to take care of business out of town. They’re not stupid. They probably know that I’m with the “East side chick.”
“Haze?” Vic speaks again.
I’m brought back to reality. “Huh?”
