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“Cal is my friend.”
“Another friend? Preferably of the same gender?”
Her laugh comes out sad. “I don’t have any more of those.”
“Why not?”
She looks down at her plate. “Turns out people stop inviting you places when all you do is say no.”
“Why did you say no?”
“We lived two very different lifestyles. Most of my friends had nine-to-five jobs and worked only five days a week. At first, I tried to keep up with them, but eventually I was burning myself out. I had to choose between my job and my life, and we know how that went.” She motions toward me.
The look on her face stops me from asking anything else. A strange feeling in my gut comes to life, and I can only label it as one thing.
Guilt.It’s my fault she has no friends. Well, none except for Cal and me, that is.
You’re the one who told her you don’t want to be her friend.
My stomach churns as I consider how I rejected her friendship. With so few left, I’m sure she takes them very seriously.
That’s why she helped you in the first place. She really does consider you a friend.
Except I don’t want to be her friend. Not when she elicits all these feelings inside of me that are nothing close to platonic.
Who said you can’t be both?
* * *
I should have never ordered another drink after our empty plates were removed from in front of us. The amber liquid serves as a reminder of my moment of weakness. Iris was ready to go the moment the reporter paid her bill and left, but I was the one who wanted to stay.
The thought alone pains me more than I ever care to admit.
I take a sip of my drink, only allowing the smallest amount of liquid to slip past my lips. Iris seems somewhat perturbed at how I make an ounce of whiskey last longer than all her past relationships combined. I’m selfish for keeping her out this late on a weeknight, but I can’t help it. Watching her speak about topics besides work is fascinating.
She talks until she’s breathless, filling the silence I have grown accustomed to with her endless chatter. There isn’t a single subject she speaks about that isn’t filled with passion and intrigue.
A dilapidated house she saw while driving home that seemed perfect for a renovation. How much fun she has visiting her mother’s classroom. Her plan to attend Nana’s cornhole championship coming up next week at church.
I didn’t even know there was such a thing as cornhole championships, let alone that Nana was the reigning champ.
I’m thoroughly enjoying my time with Iris, to the point that I don’t want it to end.
“Are you almost done?” Iris shatters my thoughts with the stark reality.
“With?”
She glares at my drink. “Your overpriced glass of whiskey.”
“I can afford it.”
“You have the same bottle at the house for half the cost.”
But would I have the same company? Probably not. The thought of drinking alone tonight seems unbearable. I’ve spent an entire lifetime by myself, and while it was never a problem before, it is slowly becoming intolerable.
“I’m enjoying the view.”
She glances out the window. “Says the man who hasn’t even looked outside once.”
