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He leans across the table. “Check out those women over there. The three of them. Fucking gorgeous. What do you say we send them a round of drinks, see if we can get them to talk to us?” He sits back in his chair, tapping his stomach. “We don’t have food like this at home, and we certainly don’t have pussy like this.”
Even though it’s unintentional, I wince at his words. The unfortunate part is that he notices.
“What the fuck, dude? You’re not down with those chicks? You see anything better?”
I shrug, picking at a dish ofpatatas bravas. “No, Andy, it’s all good. But I don’t know. I mean, maybe we should leave them alone. They look very involved in their conversation.”
He slaps the table with his hand and downs his beer. “Are you fucking kidding me? They keep looking over here. They totally want to meet us.”
I make a discreet glance in the direction of the women. I see no such thing.
Have I been like Andy in the past, so delusional about my prowess I imagined women wanted me to chat them up when they hadn’t even noticed me? Had I bothered them when they were out, enjoying their evenings with friends?
Holy shit. Hanging out with Andy is like looking in a mirror for the first time.
I don’t like what I’m seeing. Not at all.
Another glance shows the women paying their bill and getting ready to leave.
“Fuck, dude, they’re out of here. Come on, this is our chance.” He pushes his chair back and starts to stand, like he’s going after them.
No wonder women complain bitterly about men.
I stay in my seat and keep picking at the greasy, salty potatoes, which I usually love, and which I would love more if Andy would just calm the fuck down.
“Oh. Okay. I see what’s going on here,” he says, giving up on the women and returning to his seat, disappointment written all over his face.
“Andy, man, I’m just not up for chasing down women like I used to, I guess—”
“No. You are but you just don’t know it. And you know why?” he asks, smug written all over his face.
He’s really starting to get on my nerves.
I stare back at him. This is going to be a long fucking weekend.
“You’re inlove,” he sings, pointing a finger in my face. “Yup. I see it all over your ugly mug. Jesus,” he spits, like he’d just tasted something really disgusting.
In love?
A hammer hitting the side of my face would have been less impactful that his accusation. But with the way it hit me, does he have a point? Is my lug-headed buddy seeing something I’m too stupid to?
* * *
43
JASPER
In a sense,everyone got what they wanted tonight. More or less, anyway.
Andy went home with a beautiful woman.
I came home alone.
And when I do, I make as much noise as possible. I want Ava to hear that I’m home, and that I am alone. I even turn on the TV to watch a bit of sports to prove to her I haven’t brought anyone with me.
But she stays in her room, even when I knock softly before going to bed. She and I, we have a lot to talk about, but I realize when she won’t respond to me, that I can’t force it. If she’s going to believe I’m just like her brother, I can only do my best to prove her wrong. If she doesn’t want to hear it, then that’s her choice.
No doubt, Andy was getting on my last nerve tonight with his obsessive need to bed a beautiful woman. But, in his bone-headedness, he made me realize how I’d changed in recent weeks. I think that’s thanks to Ava. Even if our little trysts go nowhere, which is what it looks like, I found out how much nicer it is to be with someone you respect and actually have something to talk about with. It may not have been a good idea to get involved with her, but hell, she got what she needed and I got something along the way, too. It’s a win-win, if you ask me.
