The Firework Exploded (The Holidays #3)(4)

“Are you crying? And who the hell is Lenny?” I ask, wiping my hands on the front of my jeans, not wanting to even think about why opening the blinds made my hands sticky.

“Lenny is the pizza delivery guy for Dominos. He’s in a band and his mom doesn’t even care if he has a chick spend the night in his room in the basement. He’s got his whole life together and look at me? I have nothing,” Alex states, sniffling again as he aims the remote at the TV and rewinds the movie he’s watching back a couple of minutes. “This scene gets me every time.”

Sucking it up, I walk toward him, avoiding the unfolded piece of newspaper covering up God knows what on the floor, snatch the remote out of his hand, and turn off the TV.

“Hey! I was watching that!” Alex complains, finally looking up at me. “It’s The Way We Were with Barbara Streisand and Robert Redford!”

With a sigh, I toss the remote over to the couch and out of his reach. When Alex hadn’t shown up for work and I couldn’t get ahold of him, I casually mentioned it to Noel and found out Scheva had broken up with him. In a text. Three days ago. I figured he would be a little down in the dumps considering Noel’s best friend is the first girlfriend he’s had that lasted more than one night and they professed their love for each other on Valentine’s Day, never spending longer than a few hours apart since then. I did NOT expect to show up here and find an entire apartment filled with multiple science experiments and Alex eating away his pain while watching some stupid chick movie.

“Look, I know you’re upset about Scheva—”

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” he screams, interrupting me. “NEVER SPEAK HER NAME IN MY PRESENCE AGAIN! SHE’S DEAD TO ME!”

I sigh and shake my head at him, pulling my phone out of my back pocket when it dings with an incoming text. Alex vaults out of the recliner, spilling chicken wing bones all over the floor, and tripping over empty beer bottles as he charges me, grabbing onto my arms and shaking me.

“Is it her? Is it Scheva? What did she say? Is she sorry? Does she want me back? Tell her I love her and I forgive her!” he rambles, using the sleeve of his already filthy shirt to wipe some of the wing sauce from his face.

“No, it was from Noel. You need to get your shit together, right the f*ck now!” I yell at him. “She sent me a text to remind me we have an appointment to get fitted for our tuxes and I am not taking you there smelling like regurgitated pizza and stale beer.”

Alex is my best friend and I know I should be more supportive and understanding, but I don’t have time for this right now. I’ve got more important things to worry about like trying not to fight with Noel about stupid shit a month before our wedding because my God damn dick doesn’t feel like cooperating, and I’d rather argue about The Toilet Seat Cover Incident of 2016 over and over again instead of talking about the real issue. It’s embarrassing. It’s pathetic. It’s turning me into a crazy person and making me worry that Noel is going to change her mind about marrying a guy who has no problem getting it up, but can’t finish the deed.

“Stop yelling at me, I’m in a really emotional place right now!” Alex whines, lifting his arm and taking a whiff, then dry heaving when he gets a smell of himself. “Okay, you’re right. I could probably use a shower. And when I’m done, we’re going to sit down and have a nice little chat about what’s bothering you. According to Dr. Phil, you should never take out your own anger and frustrations on someone else.”

Grabbing a towel from the pile in the laundry basket by the wall, that may or may not be clean, I throw it at his face.

“Just get in the damn shower already. I’m hiding your remote. You’re never allowed to watch daytime television or the Lifetime channel again.”

*

“I’d give you a hug, but I’m honestly concerned my hotness would finally push you over the edge and you’d come in your pants, crossing a line in our relationship that can never be uncrossed,” Alex smirks as he stares at himself in the full-length mirror at the tux shop.

“You’re an *. I can’t believe I thought it was a good idea to confide in you,” I complain while he does up his tie.

I couldn’t take one more second of Alex rereading the text Scheva sent him the other day, so I broke down on the ride over here and told him what’s been happening with me and Noel. It was the only way I could get him to stop repeating, “I need a break. I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me,” before I swerved the car into oncoming traffic just to put myself out of my misery. Interrupting him after the twenty-seventh time to scream, “MY DICK IS BROKEN, EVERYTHING HURTS, AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE GOOD AGAIN!” wasn’t very wise, but it shut him up. Until now, after he had the rest of the car ride to come up with plenty of ways to bust my balls. Pun not intended…stupid balls.

“Seriously, look at me,” Alex demands, turning around to face me with his arms out to the side. “I’m a stud. It’s okay to admit how hot I look in this thing. I won’t tell Noel that you think I’m hotter than she is.”

Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands.

“That’s not even funny. Noel thinks that’s seriously the reason why I’ve been having problems. She’s gorgeous. She’s sexy as hell and there isn’t one second in my day that I don’t spend thinking about having sex with her. Noel is not the problem.”