“Well, something’s wrong with you then. Are you sure you’re not gay?”
Jonathan flushed. He was too easy to get riled up, always had been. “I’m not gay,” he snapped. “If I was, I wouldn’t like her so much.”
“What the fuck is the problem then? Am I missing something? She seems to like you.”
His eyes widened. “Do you think so?”
“Sure.”
“See, that’s the thing. I can’t tell. Sometimes I get these really good vibes from her, and I think that things are going well, and then other times, it seems way more formal, business-like, almost.”
“Well, you are her boss.”
“No I’m not,” he said, almost recoiling in horror at the suggestion. “You’re the boss.”
“You’re her superior then. Whatever you want to call it. Co-worker, if you want everything to be on even ground. So why wouldn’t she treat you in a business-like way?”
“Because that completely goes against her liking me!”
Growing up, I had wondered if Jonathan was gay. Not because he seemed especially interested in other boys, but because he was so fucking in touch with his feelings. It was probably due to the fact his mom, Jenny, (who still called me most Sunday mornings at ten o’clock) was one of those people who never got mad; instead she’d say something along the lines of, “What was going through your mind when you decided to throw that rock through Mr. Porter’s windshield?”
This conversation that we were having now could go on for hours. And if there wasn’t anything more tedious than having to talk about feelings . . . I didn’t know what it was. If this was going to end, I’d have to be the one to do it.
“Just ask her out,” I said. “You don’t even need to make it formal or anything; just ask her if she wants to go get a coffee or a drink or something.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can. All you need to do is grow a pair of balls and then do it.”
“That’s essentially what happened with Noah.”
“Who?”
“Noah. Her stalker. He asked her if she wanted to get a smoothie with him after they worked out. So I can’t do that. If I did that, she’d probably say no, even if she wanted to go out with me, just because she’d be thinking about Noah.”
“Then how about you tell her you want to give her the hot meat injection.”
He looked pissed that I’d dare say something
like that and I couldn’t help but start cracking up. Goddammit he was too easy!
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he said. “I really don’t. I can’t remember the last time I liked someone this much.”
I tried—not very successfully—to not roll my eyes. “If that’s the case, then do you think it was such a smart idea to get her a job at the same place you worked?”
“I thought it was a great idea. That way I’d be able to see her a lot. Plus, I’d be helping her out, because she really needed work.”
“You mean I’d be helping her out. Since I’m the one signing the paychecks.” The paychecks were not actually signed, though they did have my stamped signature on them.
“She needed a job, and we needed an admin. I’d get to see her more. Five days a week. Maybe more than that if we kept up the same gym schedules. It all sounded pretty good to me. Except . . . it’s not going exactly how I’d hoped.”
“She seems fine. That whole thing with changing the water was pretty mint, if I do so say so myself.”
“You should have offered to help her.”
“I did. And she turned me down. What did you want me to do? Force her to accept my assistance?”
“No, of course not. And she is doing great here—I don’t think it was a mistake to hire her. I just thought I’d have an easier time talking to her.”