In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1)(70)

“Don’t be a dick, Will,” Rex says. “This is Daniel.” Rex holds an arm out to me, but his eyes are anxious.

I intentionally pause before walking slowly over to them.

“Hey,” I say, nodding and holding out a hand to Will. Will’s grip is strong and his calloused hands don’t quite match his pretty face.

“This is my friend, Will,” Rex says, his emphasis on friend a little too deliberate. “Will,” Rex says pointedly, “I didn’t know you were coming to town.”

Will seems to forget I’m there the second he lets go of my hand. He studies Rex’s face and gives him a long once-over.

“Did you have a migraine?” he asks, and my heart starts beating in my ears. This guy knows Rex. There’s no way they’re just friends, or even f*ck buddies.

“I’m fine,” Rex says, waving him away. He puts his hand on the back of my neck. “Daniel took good care of me.”

The warmth from Rex’s hand and his words helps a little, but he’s laying it on pretty thick. The last thing I want to do is leave Rex alone with Will, but my instincts are screaming at me to get out of here. I can’t stick around, not even to see what’s going on. I’ve got to get away before I do something I can’t live down, like cry or give this Will guy the satisfaction of seeing that he’s gotten to me. I awkwardly pat Rex on the hip and duck out from under his hand, pulling my shoes on.

“Daniel, don’t go,” Rex says.

“Oh, no, well, I have to teach in the morning, and it’s getting late, so. I’m gonna head home.”

“No, worries, Dan,” Will says cheerily, “I can take it from here.”

I stand quickly. This guy’s stupid perfect face—I want to smash it with my fist. Rather than take a step back like most guys do when I’m in fighting mode, though, Will just smirks at me lazily and yawns. Rex puts a hand on my shoulder and turns me around, no doubt sensing bad energy between us.

But he’s not looking at me like he’s pissed that I want to punch his friend in the face. He’s looking at me with satisfaction. Like I finally did something right. Like maybe he likes the idea that I’m jealous. Oh shit, I’m so f*cking jealous.

“Later,” I toss over my shoulder at perfect, stupid Will’s face. Then I fist Rex’s T-shirt in my hand and drag him down toward me, kissing him hard and deep. When I let him go, he sways, looking a little stunned. I smile at him and walk past Will out the front door.




AT LEAST I didn’t have the nightmare last night. Because I didn’t sleep at all.

My heart was pounding with adrenaline the whole drive home, but within about a minute my satisfaction at having laid claim to Rex in front of whoever the hell this Will guy is faded to stomach-clenching anxiety and I cursed myself for choosing a dramatic exit over sticking around and finding out what the story was. Those kinds of exits always seem so satisfying when I read them in books, but I guess with an omniscient narrator no one really needs to stick around for the down and dirty parts.

Finally, around six in the morning, I drag myself out of bed and stand in a hot shower, deciding to get some coffee and walk around for a bit in the hopes of shaking off the stressful weekend and everything to do with Rex and Will before having to act like a grown-up all day. I shake out my gray button-down and pull on gray corduroys and my wingtips. I really need to go shopping. I only have about ten articles of professional clothing and I’ve been swapping them around, but pretty soon someone’s going to notice that I always wear the same thing. I pull on my only sweater, a thin red V-neck that Ginger gave me, in a Hail Mary play that the color might make me feel more awake, hoping it doesn’t look ridiculous. Ginger said it looked great with my hair, but I think it might just make me look like I’m early for Christmas.

I grab my jacket and turn up the volume on New Order, deciding to wander a bit before heading over to Sludge. I’m immediately glad for my sweater, no matter how Christmassy, when the wind starts to blow. I definitely need to get a heavier coat. Maybe this weekend. My mind wanders to Ginger and how sometimes, on chilly days, I’d get us both hot chocolates and we’d climb the fire escape to the roof of her shop, looking down over South Street, the streets of beautiful old houses to the north, and the Italian Market to the south. I like my hot chocolate with vanilla and Ginge likes hers with cinnamon, and the smells of them would mix with those of the burger joint on the corner, the falafel cart down the street, the exhaust from cars inching down South Street, and the scent of rotting leaves and stale popcorn that always seems to drift through the streets as fall gives way to winter.

Up there on the roof is where I first told Ginger a secret: that after a spotty high school career of teachers who thought I was a loser punk with an attitude and skipping more classes than I went to because the teachers were idiots, I desperately wanted to go to college. Ginger smiled at me and said, “Of course you should go; you’re the smartest guy I know.” It’s also where she told me about her older brother who’d killed himself when she was fifteen after their father walked in on him having sex with another boy. For a while after that, I worried that the only reason she wanted to be friends with me was because I reminded her of her brother or something.

Part of me wants to tell Ginger about the whole Will thing in the hopes that she’ll tell me it’s nothing, but it’s way too early to call her. Will. There was something slightly off about that guy. Or, not off—just something that didn’t quite add up. Guys that pretty are usually so used to getting whatever they want that they’ve never fought in their lives. But Will didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated by the threat of a fight. Maybe he was just so sure of his primacy with Rex that he didn’t care? He did seem pretty concerned about Rex’s headache. Still, not really possessive the way a lover might be—more… what? Annoyed, maybe, that Rex was in pain? I’m not sure.