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Noah pulls back with a frown. “You’re not just a piece of ass. That's what I'm trying to tell you. You're important to me.”
“I know. I think that’s the problem.”
“Why is that a problem?” He shifts his head back and forth, clearly not following me.
“I’m not important to anyone. And don’t say you because you’re fucking me so that doesn’t count.”
“Fine.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “What about Xander?”
“I’m pretty sure he wants to strangle me half the time.” I snort as I itch my chest.
“If that were true, he’d have done it by now. Plus, Niko likes you.”
“Niko tolerates me for Xander.”
“His sister loves you.”
“That might actually be true, but only in a drinking buddy kind of way. And that’s fine. It’s better that way.”
“How is that better?” He reaches for me again, but I wave him back.
“There’s no false hope with drinking buddies.”
“False hope? What does that mean?”
“Drinking buddies are for a good time only. They aren’t expected to care about you beyond their stool at the bar. You hang out and have fun, but that’s all it is. I’m good with it.” I'm getting hives. Great. Just what I need. I'm pretty sure they're making my brain swell, too… Making me say things I normally wouldn’t.
“I don’t think anyone sees you as just a drinking buddy. I don’t. Why are you itching yourself raw?”
“Because you’re messing up the pattern. Fuck around, have fun, say goodbye.” I scratch at my lower back.
“I don’t want to say goodbye.”
I roll my eyes dramatically. “Everyone does. That’s how it works.”
“How what works?”
“Life. You get close to people and they let you down. That’s why I don't do boyfriends. Only hookups. Get it?”
He’s looking at me like I’m deranged, and considering I look like a monkey in a zoo, I get it. Only he thinks it’s my reasoning, not my sudden rash, that’s irrational. I know better.
People like to tell you they care all the time, but in my experience it’s just talk. A line people feed you because it’s expected. Since my wake-up call nearly a decade ago, I’ve learned most of that talk isn’t malicious. Friends, colleagues, acquaintances…they get wrapped up in their own shit and forget about yours. I get it. It’s when the people closest to you don’t give a shit that messes with your head, and I figure it’s better to avoid those situations altogether than to give someone the chance to break you.
That’s how I’ve operated for the past ten years, and it works for me. I haven’t had any crushing disappointments because I haven’t put myself in a position to experience them. Given the way Noah’s looking at me right now, like he’s not going anywhere, I have a feeling I’ve already let him get too close.
“Who hurt you?” he asks softly.
No. Nope. Not going there. I don’t tell anybody that. Ever.
“Not your concern, big guy. The takeaway here is, I don’t do boyfriends. So, this has been fun and all, but you’re gonna have to find someone else to experiment with.” I stand, ready to bolt out of the kitchen, and find him blocking my path. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re trying to keep me from leaving.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest, adopting a very Thor-like stance. “I am.”
“I’d say that’s kinky if it didn’t have a kidnappy undertone.”
