I had… feelings… for the Homo Jock King.
I was an abject failure at faking a relationship.
And what was even more terrible was the thought that Darren might find out.
I was calling Paul even before I realized I’d pulled the phone out of my purse. It rang once, twice, and then, “Please tell me you’re not calling me midcoitus, Sandy. I swear to god I don’t think I’d be able to handle hearing you sucking on Darren’s balls. There are lines that even we shouldn’t cross. Unless we should. Should we? I don’t know if I can do a group thing. Where would everybody’s feet go? Not near me, that’s for damn sure. In fact, everyone’s feet should stay as far away from me as possible. I’m not one to kink shame, but if your kink is feet, shame on you.”
And just like that, I felt better. Not completely. But a little. Paul had that effect on me. He always had. “Not even remotely close,” I said, trying to sound flip and probably missing by a mile. “And don’t lie. You have a foot fetish. You probably like sucking on his toes and licking between the—”
“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.”
“Yeah, I might have been gagging a little too.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I said, sure I sounded believable.
“Sandy. You sound like you’re either on your way to freaking out or coming down from one.”
Maybe not so believable. “Bitch, please. You don’t know me.”
He snorted. “Not even a little bit. What’s going on?”
“Um. Nothing?”
“Right. Where are you?”
“Out.”
“Succinct as usual. Is Darren with you?”
“Not at the moment. Are you alone?”
“Yeah. Vince went on a bike ride with Corey before we went to lunch. I thought that sounded like a terrible idea so I’m sitting on the couch eating beef jerky. I don’t know why. I don’t even like beef jerky.”
Ah, the ramblings of my lunatic.
“So, what’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing much. How are you?”
“Sandy.”
“Ugh,” I said. “Sometimes I love you to pieces. Now is not one of those times.”
“Sure you don’t.” Then, “Did Darren do something?” His words were careful, his tone casual, but I knew him too well to not hear the slight coil of anger.
“No,” I said. “Nothing. Um. So. Funny story. I. Might? Have feelings. Ahem. For Darren.”
“Right,” he said slowly. “He’s your boyfriend. You should have feelings for him. That’s kind of how that works. Wait. Do you not know how this works? Don’t you know how to boyfriend? Wow. Seriously. This must be totally embarrassing for you.”
Oh. Right. I’d lied to Paul about everything.
Because I wasn’t supposed to actually feel like this.
And here I was, in drag, clutching a knockoff purse while trying not to hyperventilate in a bathroom where Tim Curry had probably urinated at one point in his life.
I really didn’t understand how I got myself in these situations. It was obviously not my fault.