I got up and walked behind him, finding Adrian smoking in the corridor. His father just kept walking until he reached the elevator. Turning back to his son, he said, "Find your way home, will you?"
It made me ponder too many possibilities all at once. Was he telling him not to go anywhere except home? Or had they come together but were leaving separately? Was it meant to be cruel? Looking at Adrian's unbothered expression, I couldn't decipher much.
"And if I don't?"
Okay, now it did seem like a feud.
Diego sighed. Adrian stared. Diego looked at me as if trying to make a point. As if asking me to do something.
Oh. Now?
My eyes widened again, and he just chuckled and got into the elevator.
"What was that about?" Adrian asked, staring at me intently as if trying to figure out whose side I was on.
"About that date…" I said, looking at Adrian, hoping he'd have some mercy on me and just go along with it.
"Don't tell me you bought his bullshit! Of all the times you want to pick a fucking argument, couldn't you do it now? Are you that easy? Fucking hell, I'm not marrying you!"
The hallway went quiet after that. Even the faint hum of the elevator seemed too loud.
My nerves buzzed at his disgusted tone. I wondered if my skin was worth saving if my only other option was marrying him.
"You came into that room for a date. A date's what you're getting. I brought my Ferrari tonight," I said, keeping my tone neutral.
At this point, I had years of practice at not breaking down.
Staying calm was muscle memory now.
I thought he was going to scream at me for babying him—something like I can do whatever the fuck I want or I don't fucking need you. But his eyes lit up and his lips parted. You could see the excitement even with the poker face he was trying to maintain.
I could hear my heart pounding in my head, almost dizzyingly so. I focused on keeping my breathing neutral and started walking down the stairs.
"-3," I said, hoping he could take the elevator while I spent the next fifty-seven floors down not masking.
Obviously, that was too much to hope for. He just followed me.
"Why do you want to go separately? I thought you just asked for a date," he taunted.
I had made sure not to use the word ask when I talked about him coming for a date, hoping to avoid a scene.
Because arguments with Adrian were never just arguments. They were spectacles.
About how he didn't ask. How he didn't need to. How he didn't want to go with me. How I couldn't do my makeup right.
About how everyone around him was wrong.
How the world would be so much better with a gun in his hand.
He might be right. But I didn't like feeling wrong for existing either.
"I need to make a couple of stops," was all I said.
I knew all too well that arguing with him wasn't something I was capable of right now. Or most days.
It was the closest I ever came to crying.
I didn't cry. I hadn't cried in seven years.
And I wasn't about to start tonight.
I wasn't about to ruin my life for one heated moment of rage. One moment of screaming at him. One million mean things said just to break him like he broke me.
I stopped at Melanie's office.
"Stay out here," I said firmly, looking back at him.
He scoffed. "What am I, your dog?"
"No. Just unwelcome. Stay. Out. Here."
For a second, I thought he might actually argue.
But he only leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.
I went inside, closing the door behind me. Melanie was crying quietly with a bottle of red wine.
I sat next to her. "Who died?" I joked.
"Just kids growing up. Worst thing in the world, if you ask me. Diapers are so much easier than 'Mom, you know what? You're the villain of my story!' And then a couple days later, 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.' What am I supposed to do with that? What does that mean? And you can't ever be the hurt one because they're the kid, right? Why did I grow up? Do I have to—"
"Hey. Come here," I said, holding out my arm.
She sobbed quietly against my chest.
"I feel like I'm dying, Nick. Every day feels like I'm fucking wasting air. I just fucking can't."
That's how they all talked to me.
I was the pretend guy you could share your feelings with and go out for drinks with without being told you were being overdramatic or needed too much attention.
"How about this? A sleepover at my place with Harley." Mentioning the son she was crying about felt a little wrong, but I kept going. "Just some pizza, dumb games, and maybe—if we feel light enough—we can talk through it. Just you and me."
"You gotta go?" she asked, frowning.
"Adrian."
"What about him?"
"He's out there waiting for me. For our date."
She sprayed wine across the floor.
"Who died?" she asked, laughing.
I laughed too. It felt good to hear something that wasn't anger for once.
"I'll see you at home in the morning?"
"Yeah. Okay," she said, smiling.
I walked out and he was talking to someone on the phone, pacing the corridor.
Without waiting for him to notice me, I started heading down more floors.
I was more than ten floors down when my phone rang.
Adrian.
I picked up.
"How long are you gonna be in there?"
"I'm down twelve floors."
"You couldn't have fucking told me? How'd you slip past me anyway?"
"Guess you just don't like looking at me."
"Damn right I don't," he said, laughing.
As I reached the bottom, the elevator doors opened to reveal Mr. Spoiled Brat still on his phone.
"Red, I gotta go, love. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" he said, finishing up.
Red.
I knew her. She was his diamond-dress date at some charity or another.
The blatant use of stripper names got to me sometimes.
I wondered if this was what I'd have to put up with if I tried to save myself from being skinned.
Adrian finally looked up from his phone. His eyes landed on me like he'd been expecting me the whole time.
For the first time, I wondered if it could ever work out between us.
And as I did, I realised I couldn't picture a future where he didn't hurt me again.