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“Whatever gets you through.”
He follows me in a drunken stumble to the car, where I half strip out of the stupid costume and throw it on the back seat. I get what Molly means. The thought of walking back into that party doesn’t sit right with me, not after all that. This town is full of gossips, and being at the center of that isn’t something I have the energy for.
Me:You okay to find a ride home?
Ford:Of course.
I tuck my phone away before climbing in after Molly, more than ready for this night to be over. With any luck, Ford will wrap it up soon and meet me back at my place.
I’ve never needed him more.
32
Ford
Well,last night was a clusterfuck. I stretch out the pain in my back from sleeping on this damn couch all night. Art is on the one opposite, the buttons on his shirt half-open and his normally perfectly styled hair an electrified mess.
“Successful night,” he says, voice sounding like shit.
“Why? Because we both got pissed over men and drank our weight in alcohol?” My shoulder cramps as I sit up.
“Screw you. I wasn’t pissed over anything.”
I give him a doubtful look that he pretends not to see. When Joey came over to mention he was leaving and hooked his thumb back toward the woman waiting at the bar, Art’s face went from tan to red in about a second flat. It would have been amusing if Orson hadn’t completely ditched me here.
Not that I can blame him.
Seeing someone else kisshimwould have made me rage.
“Well, while you live in denial, I need to grovel. Hard.” I drag a hand over my face, a multitude of curse words filling my head. “Surely he has to know I’d never do that to him? I’d never encourage that.”
Art’s hum is gravelly, and he hasn’t made a move to sit up from where he’s sprawled over the couch. “Our Orson is a ten, but he feels deeply. Good when it’s positive emotions, but not so good when it’s negative.”
“I need him to forgive me.”
“Eh. He’s batshit about you. The tests and trials of your relationship now are only creating strong foundations to build on.”
“Unless he decides to demo the whole thing.”
“I’ve known Orson a long time, and yours is the first dumb ass he’s wanted. He’s reasonable. Tell him what happened, and he’ll be fine.”
I hope so. It sounds easy enough when Art puts it like that, but Orson’s been hurt in the past, and I refuse to be the reason he’s hurt again. All I want to do is be the person he deserves. Maybe we’re moving quickly, but I could see us having a life together. A good, long, happy one. Like Orson said, there’s no time to waste waiting for the things we want, and he’s not even a want at this stage. I need him.
I want to do something special for him. I’ve told him I love him, and now I want to make sure he knows it.
“How do I be romantic?”
Art lets out a husky laugh. “Look who you’re talking to.”
“You can be romantic.”
“If you want to get him into bed, I’m your guy. If you want to romance him, Orson’s usually the one I send people to.”
“Well, considering he’s the one I want to be all romantic for, that advice doesn’t help me.”
“I dunno … hasn’t he ever said shit he likes? Surely you guys have covered off the favorite things checklist part of your relationship.”
“Checklist?”
