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Nick: how do you know when to trust someone?
Gray: are you asking about a specific situation?
Nick: sort of
Gray: do you want to tell me about it? I can give you better advice if I know what’s going on
Nick: I do but I cant
Nick: not yet
Gray: what does your gut tell you about the situation?
Nick: that this is legit?
Gray: and what do the facts tell you?
Nick: um… that its probably okay
Gray: you know you can tell me about anything, right? I won’t judge
Nick: I know but I actually cant. This is a secret thing
Gray: dangling that in front of me is just cruel
Nicklol my bad
Nick: but I cant rn. Soon, but not now
Gray: okay but remember what we talked about if whatever this is has anything to do with meeting someone you don’t know
Nick: I remember
Nick: gotta get back to work. Tell me again to not worry
Gray: don’t worry. It’ll be fine
Nick: thanks
Nick: ur the bestest bestie ever!
He sent me a line of kissy faces and heart-eyed emojis. I sent back a few kissy ones and a heart.
Nick was the most kind-hearted and purest soul I’d ever met. He reminded me of Eli in that way, and I admired how open he was with his affection. He loved hugs and platonic cuddles and had bypassed my aversion to being touched within a few hours of meeting.
He was one of the only people outside my family who’d broken through my walls, and he’d done it in less than an hour with his bright smiles and puppy-dog energy.
And for some crazy reason, he liked my surly ass and had adopted me as his work bestie. I’d never had someone claim me like that. It was nice.
I put my phone on the coffee table and rubbed my hands over my eyes.
Nick might feel better about whatever the fuck was going on, but I sure as hell didn’t.
I might not have rent due at the end of the month, but I had other bills to pay, and I couldn’t rely on Evie’s kindness to keep me afloat.
The ER doctor said I’d need to take it easy for two to three weeks to let my body heal. It would be two weeks on Saturday. I needed to get back to my life.
I was supposed to go to my primary care physician for a two-week follow-up to have my injuries, especially my concussion, reevaluated. That wasn’t happening. I didn’t have a doctor, for one, and no way in hell was I spending all day in a clinic waiting room just to pay out the ass for some jackass in a lab coat to tell me to put my life on pause for another week or longer.
