Chapter Four

I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me

“I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner

“Frustrated?” Dustin asked me. He was a casual friend I’d had since I moved to New York and now we were walking to get something for lunch since he was on break.

“How can you tell?” I asked.

“You haven’t been paying attention to a word I’ve been saying.”

“Not true,” I protested and he raised his eyebrow. “Okay, fine, I haven’t,” I grumbled. “It’s just…ugh,” I groaned.

“Spit it out,” He said. “I want to hear about it, just not all day, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I rolled my eyes. “You know that dude I told you about?”

“The kid?”

“Seventeen is hardly a kid, and he’s turning eighteen in May.”

“Whatever you have to say to validate yourself. So, you slept with him yet?”

“Ask a little louder so the rest of Manhattan can hear, will ya? And the answer is no.”

“Ah, I see, want to take it slow with the young and tender of heart.”

“You really are full of shit, aren’t you?” I eyed him. “It’s not that at all and you know it.”

“Figured I’d at least try and give you some merit. How long have you guys been together again?”

“I never told you in the first place because, now what was it again? Oh yeah, because we’re not together. God, it’s so aggravating. I’ve asked him about five times now, anymore and I’ll start to seem desperate.”

“Start?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, if only for your sake.”

“When’d he move in?”

“Mid December. After about a week he was trying to get into my business, asking if I had a boyfriend, or lover, asking if I liked him. I finally told him I did New Year’s Eve.”

“Was he all over you at midnight?” Dustin quirked another brow.

I smirked. “Yeah.”

“Geez, I haven’t gotten any since last year, pretty sad since it’s February, you know?”

My grin dissipated. “That’s the thing; I haven’t either. He won’t let me and he keeps on turning me down. First his excuse was that he liked me, but we were going too fast, then it was that he needed to focus on other things, and plenty others. I’m starting to think that if I ask him now he’ll say, ‘I would, but I’d much rather be alone this Valentine’s Day,’” I sighed heavily.

Dustin patted my back. “There, there, you’ll get the jailbait sooner or later.”

“Get off of me,” I shrugged his hand off.

“Lighten up, it’s not all bad. It’s not like you’re together, so you can have anyone you want, even if you want him. Plus, he’s not just good for causing you undue pent up sexual energy.”

“Oh, wonderful, now he increases the rate of insanity too?”

“You’ve gotten better with your drinking, so now, more attractive people will want you, because, seriously, who wants to be with a drunk? Unless you have a complex or something.”

I cast him a pointed look, reminding him that Dylan liked me even when my job title might as well have read mailroom worker/lush.

“Yeah, I’m not taking that back,” He smiled and we arrived at the restaurant.

When I come home and sit on the couch, I let my eyes close as my head reflexively falls back. I exhale as I hear Dylan moving about the apartment. I understand perfectly well that we’re not actually together, but I figure, what the hell, I might as well chance it anyway. Right?

“Hey, Dill?”

“Dylan,” He corrected me playfully. He had told me before that he didn’t let anyone call him Dill or any such nicknames, but overtime I saw that I could get away with it. “Yeah?” He asked, I could hear that he was closer.

I opened my eyes to an upside down vision of perfection. “Hey,” I smiled at him and waved with my fingers. “What are we going to do?”

A look of confusion washed over him. “What are we going to do now?”

I shook my head. “For Valentine’s Day.”

He grew uncomfortable. “Nothing…I mean…we’re technically not together. I mean, unless you want to be. You don’t, do you?” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, like he didn't want me to say yes.

I brought my head up correctly and turned my body to look at him, he never really came into the living room. “Well, no, unless you want to. You’re nice and all, and really sweet, but if you don’t want to be with me, I’d understand.”

“I’d like to be with you,” He whispered. “I just don’t know if I should.”

“Oh,” I was crestfallen.

“No, no, you misunderstand me,” He rushed to explain.

“No, I think I understand perfectly. Drunks and addicts are good to fool around with, but just not relationship material.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then enlighten me? Are you trying to say that you really have a thing for people who are too damaged to get anyone else? That you have some sort of complex?” Then Dustin’s words came back to me, resounding in my mind.

“You’re not a drunk,” He protested. I laughed, straight out laughed. I couldn’t restrain myself; the hilarity of his statement was insane. Of course I’m a drunk, recovering, but that doesn’t change a thing. “You’re not,” He insisted.

“And you’re not a cock tease,” I spat vehemently. It wasn’t so much sexual frustration that was turning me into quite the monster, just that over the course of almost two months I had figured he would at least open up to me.

He seemed hurt by my comment before his eyes turned incredibly cold. “Fine, whatever. I don’t care anymore. You can be down on yourself all you want, just don’t insult me.” He was positively livid as he came around the couch, his stance strong as he spoke. “I have never been a cock tease to you, understand?”

I rolled my eyes. “If this is some pathetic attempt at standing up for yourself, it’s even weaker than I imagined it would be.”

The tone of his voice changed. “Come on, Peter,” He whispered, moving in close to me, knees parted on each side of my waist. He was towering with his hands planted on each sides of the couch. He looked down at me and I was compelled to look up at him, his black hair falling into his face. “Take it back.”

“Fine,” I basically growled. He glared at me and I repeated my answer, “ Fine,” though this time it held sincerity. “Are you happy now?”

“No, not really,” he said. “I’d still like to do something for Valentine’s Day, if you’d like,” he tacked on.

I smiled. “All right,” I said.

“This doesn’t mean we’re together,” he clarified, backing away from his looming position.

“I understand perfectly,” I smiled at him, happy that, at least for Valentine’s Day, I had someone.