Well, he has a point there.
I join him in cleaning up when everyone leaves, and about five minutes later, I’m vaguely aware of the storefront door opening, but I’m too much of a dumbass to think it’s anyone but a returning customer who’s forgotten something.
“Law?”
I stiffen at Reed’s voice but am thinking clearly enough to do a quick analysis of the situation. I’m wearing my gi, but the real Anders is wearing a singlet shirt where you can see he doesn’t have my shoulder tattoo, and he’s also wearing his eyebrow ring that, in reality, he rarely takes out.
When Reed steps through the bamboo curtain, his eyes find me first and then Anders. Unlike my students who double take from being in the same room as two guys who look identical, Reed steps back for a whole other reason. He watches an invisible tennis match between me and Anders.
Time slows down and it’s drawn out further by no one saying anything.
This is all about to come out, and not in the way I was hoping. I have no control over this situation.
Reed finally asks, “Are you guys triplets or something?”
At the same time, Anders matches Reed’s confusion. “Who are you?”
Ah, fuck. I stand completely still, unable to speak or run away. Running away sounds perfect right now, if only I could get my feet to move.
“Triplets?” Anders asks.
“Well, yeah, you’re not Anders or Law.”
“Reed,” I say but can’t find more words.
“Law, what is he talking—wait, I know you,” Anders says. “You were my date. My date that—”
“I can explain.” I don’t want to, but I don’t have any other option right now. Running out of here won’t work unless I plan on never coming back. I’ve heard New Zealand is nice this time of year.
Reed’s eyebrows go from being drawn together to soaring sky high the exact moment he works it out. Though impossible, I swear I see his heart shatter. “Law, please tell me I’m jumping to all the wrong conclusions here when I assume you’re the guy I’ve been fucking.”
“What?” Anders blanches. “He’s straight.”
I don’t know who to address first. “No, bro. I’m really not. I need to explain—”
Reed crosses the room and pulls open my gi, exposing my tattoo. Stumbling back, he looks at Anders’ eyebrow. “You two are sick.”
“Whoa, dude,” Anders says. “You don’t even know me.”
“Anders,” I say. “Not now. I need to—”
Reed shakes his head. “I can’t believe … I … fuck this. I’m out. Don’t come near me. Either of you.” He storms out, and I watch him go. Each footstep closer to the exit he gets, my heart cracks open a little more.
Anders calls after him. “What did I do?”
This is the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want to hurt Reed, but I knew all along it was inevitable if I kept seeing him. Yet, I did it anyway, because I can’t stay away from him. I don’t want to.
My feet hesitate for only a few seconds. “Reed.” I run after him. He’s almost at his car when I catch up. “Wait. I need to—”
He spins on his heel. “That’s why you disappeared when I broke it off with Anders? Because I unknowingly broke up with you?”
My mouth drops open, but again, I can’t find the right words. Everything I say is going to hurt him in one way or another.
“I didn’t mean for it to get that far,” I whisper. “I tried to tell you.”
Reed folds his arms across his chest. “Why didn’t you?”
“Well … usually because your tongue ended up in my mouth.”
His lips quirk but he recovers quickly. “This is fucked up, Law.”
“I know.”
My gaze doesn’t drop from his, even though his eyes bore right into me, trying to figure out if there’s any good inside.
“I’m not that guy—the one who does shit like this.”
A group of people walk by us on the narrow sidewalk, pushing me closer to Reed. If I wasn’t ruined enough, he destroys me by stepping backwards—as if he could sink into his car—like he can’t get away from me fast enough.
“It was only supposed to be that first night,” I say. “Then I found out I work with you, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I figured if you knew the truth you’d want nothing to do with me, and I couldn’t handle that. But you ran anyway when you met that other guy.”
“What other guy?”
“Your date guy.”
Guilt flashes across his face, and he averts his gaze.
“Yeah,” I say, feeling used. It may be a double standard because I was using Reed too. Difference is, for me it only started out that way. I’ve fallen for him. I’ve fallen hard. “Obviously you didn’t feel anything for me. Or Anders.” Low blow, maybe, but fuck, I’m grasping at straws. I need a reason to be mad at him—like it could even the playing field and lessen my fuckup somehow.