Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
The thought of witnessing Jake falling in love with someone was enough for me to lose my hunger. I set down the remains of my bagel on the table and took a swig of my Coke.
It was bound to happen at some point. He’d meet someone. I was sure of it. One day, I would be his best man, and I would wanna kill myself just a bit.
Our drunken night in Vegas was the threadbare T-shirt I couldn’t bear to part with. We all had a tee like that, didn’t we? The one we couldn’t wear in public because it had too many holes, the seams were dissolved in some places, but it felt so fucking good, you wore it at home, maybe slept in it, maybe used it on laundry days.
It’d been the single hottest experience of my life.
“Do you think Joel is gay?” Jake asked.
I lifted my brows and looked at him. “Who, the Coast Guard guy?”
He nodded. “He gave me his number last time and told me to call if I wanted to meet up.”
What the fuck?
I let out a chuckle. “Then I’d say it’s a fair assumption, unless there’s context. If you geeked out about deployments or rifles or, I don’t know, whatever you soldier types bond over, maybe he just wants to meet up for a beer.”
He turned pensive and took another bite of his food.
What was going on here?
What did it matter if Joel was gay?
Or perhaps it didn’t. Jake could just be curious because of the possible interest expressed. I had no reason to overreact and overanalyze.
His journal came to mind, not for the first or hundredth time… I’d done a good job of reasoning myself to pieces over that fucking notebook, and as intrigued as I was to gain more insight into what the hell was going on inside my buddy’s head, I hadn’t opened that journal again. I hadn’t even entered his bedroom—wait, except for the time I went in to grab Sam’s security blanket last winter.
I did wonder if Jake went to therapy now, though. He’d never said a word about it. Not the tiniest hint. But it would be weird if he’d attended therapy for a year or so and still kept his journal lying around on his nightstand.
“I’m sure it was nothin’,” he decided eventually. “But it’s a nice thought.”
Pardon? What, exactly, was a nice thought?
For chrissakes, I had to ask. “What’s nice about it?”
“You know.” He shrugged and chewed. “Bein’ flirted with, I guess. I’m not sure I’m interested in anything with anyone, but every now and then, shit gets lonely. I don’t get out much, so I’m just a dad these days.” He crammed the last of his bagel into his mouth and grabbed his Coke. “Being noticed for somethin’ else is a good feeling, is all.”
I felt my forehead crease as my mind began spinning. I hadn’t considered he might feel lonely. Our job constantly brought us to new places, to meet new people, learn new things, that when we got home, Jake was quick to isolate himself. Rather, stick to his family here. Sometimes he invited people over for a barbecue or just chilling out and drinking beer, but I knew those guys. They were industry folk like us, and we could never resist talking about work.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Whenever he had one of those after-work barbecues, I got jealous because I never fucking joined anymore. Sandra wanted me at home. So, while I sat there at the table and had dinner with my wife, I was the one who felt lonely because I knew what Jake was up to. I knew the banter, the joking around, the sharing of spectacular filming disasters, all the things that could go wrong on location.
I missed hanging out with friends.
Being married could be isolating too.
Screw it. I didn’t wanna feel so stuck in my own home anymore. Sandra met up with her friends all the time, but because she preferred brunches and early spa appointments, she thought that was different. Besides, she should be more relaxed by now. She was on friendly terms with Jake, she was clearly getting along well with Haley, and she came over from time to time for lunch and just being a part of our group.
“We’ll go out soon,” I said firmly. “Hey—we have that concert on Saturday.” Jake was gonna introduce me to fucking country music. “I can be your wingman—and if you don’t find anyone who gets your motor going, I’ll spend the night stroking your ego.”
Now, that was a nice thought.
Unfortunately, Jake was hotter than hell, not to mention the best guy I knew, and his growing popularity the past few years had lured out women—and men—in droves. He was just blind to their attention most of the time. When people looked at him, he looked the other way.