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Chapter Four
Forrest
Two Months Later
“Hey, Bowman, you into bowling?” my co-worker, Hunter, asks, leaning over my desk.
I glance up at him. “Um, depends, I guess? I wouldn’t say I’m good at it or anything, but going casually with friends and stuff is fun, why?”
“Mikey and I are going out tonight with a couple other people, was wondering if you might like to join us and hang out,” he offers.
I was pleased by the offer, but I shook my head. “Wish I could, but I’ll have to catch you guys next time, I’m meeting someone after work.”
“Got yourself a hot date, or what?” Hunter asks, wagging his eyebrows.
I laugh, even though the words send an uncomfortable pang through my gut. “Not even close, buddy just asked me to meet up,” I explain.
“Well, you have my number if you feel like meeting up later, man,” he says, clapping me amicably on the shoulder before taking his leave.
I glance down at my phone again to see the text Max had sent me.
Can you meet me at Sanctum after work? I need to talk to you about something.
I’d never actually set foot in Sanctum before, and I knew next to nothing about it except that it was some tiny little dive bar not too far from my office. Of course I’d told Max I could meet him, but my mind wouldn’t leave me alone, wondering what it is he might want to talk to me about.
The fact that he’d said “me” and not “us” has me strongly suspecting that Alyson wouldn’t be joining us.
If you’d told me before I moved here that I would end up spending the majority of my free time with my ex-boyfriend and his new fiancée, I would have laughed in your face, but now, I can’t picture life any other way.
Yeah, there are moments where it sucks to be around him, but at the same time, I have my best friend back, so it makes those shitty moments worth it. And if you love someone, you want what’s best for them, right?
And how could Alyson not be what’s best for him? She’s beautiful, smart, sweet, funny…hell, if I’d gotten to her first, I might have swept her up for myself. Secretly, there are moments where I wish I had.
It’s a little sad, knowing that I’m pining after both of my closest friends, but at least I’ve befriended Hunter and some other guys at the office, too. Even my manager, Michael, has hung out a few times.
So at least I’m not completely pathetic. But even so, my mind is occupied pretty much all day, worrying and wondering what this is going to be about. What could Max want to talk to me about?
Of course there’s some dark part of me that’s hoping he’ll confess that he’s not over me and he wants me back, but even thinking that stabs me with guilt. I can just picture the heartbreak on Alyson’s face, and since I know exactly what that feels like, I don’t know that I can stand to put her through it.
A more pessimistic part of me worries that he’s going to tell me we can’t be friends anymore, that he wants me to stay away from him and his fiancée, and that I’ll lose him for good this time. And somehow even though we’re not together, I still know, instinctively, that losing him again would be no easier than the first time.
As I worry, time slowly crawls by until finally, my workday is over and I can clock out. I shut my computer down in a hurry and rush out to my car, waving absently at co-workers calling greetings.
It’s only a few minutes to get to Sanctum, and soon I’m walking through the doors of the little dive. I have to admit, the inside isn’t nearly as seedy as I was expecting. It’s small, but clean and quiet, and the bartender greets me with a nod.
I scan the room until I see him, huddled in a corner with a rocks glass in hand. I lift my eyebrows in surprise. Max isn’t really much of a drinker, only partaking in the occasional glass of beer or wine, but hard liquor isn’t really his normal thing.
“Hey, you doing ok?” I ask as I stride over to the table and pull out the chair across from him.
He shrugs. “Not really.”
My heart sinks, the look on his face twisting my heart, but before I can ask him what’s going on, a server approaches and asks for my drink order. I decide to grab a beer, something that won’t fog my head too much, but something so Max isn’t drinking along.
Max downs the last of the amber liquid in his glass and asks the server to bring him another. She nods, then takes his glass and walks off to go retrieve our drinks. “So what’s up, man?” I ask him.
He scrubs both hands over his face and lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t even know how to talk about this,” he mutters.
“You open your mouth and use your vocal cords to make those sounds in your throat,” I tell him, hoping the lame little joke will make him crack a smile, or relax a little at the very least.
