Chapter 8

He stood. “Ball’s in your court.” He walked to the door. “See you at Fred’s party tonight?” Fred was a mutual friend, and we went to his party every year. Another pseudo-relationship thing?

All I could do was nod.

“Okay. Thanks for letting me talk. Don’t let the words ‘I love you’ be so scary. You, more than anyone, it seems, knows that words don’t mean anything. Actions do. All I ask is that you think about us over the years, the times we’ve spent together in this apartment, the things we’ve done. It all adds up, you know? And it’s because of those things why I did something so hair-brained in the first place. Let our actions decide for you, yeah?”

He was gone seconds later, and I slumped against the couch, more confused than ever.

* * * *

December 31st, 9 P.M.