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FRI OCTOBER 6, 2022 11:38 PM — The Streets of Manhattan

Grant found me talking with Rhys when him and his friends were finally ready to leave about thirty minutes before midnight. I said my goodbyes to the dark blonde next to me, then followed Grant outside where the other three boys were waiting. As we walked down the house steps, I was handed a bottle of something alcoholic along with the words, “For your troubles.”

I took it from him, twisted the cap off, took a sip, then muttered a, “Thank you.”

Grant smiled at me before taking it off my hands explaining to a newly confused me, “We’re…” he started, motioning at the five of us in front of this brownstone, “…sharing it though,” he watched me roll my eyes so he started explaining again with a smile, “Can’t have you too drunk for our plans, hm?” Then he took his own sip from the bottle, only to hand it to Howard when we made it over to them.

Now we’re six minutes into the over fifteen minute walk and I have the bottle in my hand, taking a sip while walking ahead of the four boys. I blindly stick the bottle behind me for someone to take. And it’s grabbed from me, but I don’t check from who as I just stay the course to their dorm.

“You know where you’re going?” I hear Josh from behind me, it’s a playful question.

I snort at it, “I do,” I say, “I also know what street we’re on, believe it or not.”

Josh chuckles at my answer, “That’s great, because I was wondering.”

I sneak a glance back at him as I give him an unamused grimace of a smile. There’s a bit of silence after I turned forward again. But then I hear Grant speak up, “Sooo…” he draws out his starter, “Tommy’s pretty cool.”

I can see right through him. Because Grant barely met the man, and their interactions weren’t exactly world changing. “Was he now?” Any person could hear how unconvinced I was by this.

Grant chuckles awkwardly, “Yeah so um, here’s a question,” his voice is hesitant, like he doesn’t want to ask this question. And I don’t want him to either. Because by the sound of it, and with what our usual conversation surrounding my ‘family friend’ usually is. I have a feeling this isn’t something I want to be asked by him, especially around his friends. “You do actually like Tommy don’t you?”

And there it is, the question I was dreading. “I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” I tell him.

“That kind of just answers my question, doesn’t it?” Grant throws that back at me, and I turn around to glare at him as I snatch the bottle of alcohol from Howard’s hands.

I turn forward as I start to drink from it. “This silence is really telling, isn’t it Grant?” Josh jokes.

And it makes me snap, “Okay! Fuck! Sure, I like him! Whatever, it doesn’t fucking matter anyway,” I grumble as I take another sip, then thrust the bottle behind me again, “I’ll get over him at some point.” The anxiety in my gut is getting to me. It’s intense and eating me up inside. I didn’t want to talk about this. With Grant. And especially not with his friends.

Patrick speaks up from just about next to me as he asks me, “And how long have you been trying to get over him already?”

The anxiety stewing in my gut spikes at that question. I’m silent for a while. Way too long, in all honesty. “That doesn’t matter,” I mumble out.

Patrick snorts out a laugh as he says, “Seems like it does,” under his breath. He knows I can hear him, so when I send a glare his way, he just smiles at me.

“No, she’s right,” Grant begins, his words aimed at Patrick, “It doesn’t matter.” Then I feel as his words become pointed towards me, “Because he’s obviously into you too.”

As soon as those words leave his mouth I groan loud. I don’t say anything though. That groan was the only thing that left my mouth before Howard asks, “What was that about?” right after.

The frustration from Grant’s statement dissolves from my body as the anxiety comes back with the intense need to not admit this one thing. “…Nothing,” I say awkwardly, “It’s about nothing.”

No one is convinced by that, and I don’t have to look back at any of them to know that. Grant waves his finger from behind me, “Noooo,” he says, “No, it’s about something.”

I hold back the urge to groan again as I just stare out in front of me hoping a car rolls over into me. And that hope get’s even stronger as I hear Patrick start to chant, “Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.”

And I just want whatever this is to be over immediately. “Jesus! Okay!” I yell, I’m silent for a second or two before I sigh and start again, “It’s just annoying constantly hearing that from the people in my life.”

“Hearing what?” Josh asks, asking for clarification that he knows he doesn’t need.

I mumble out my answer to him, “That Tommy likes me…”

Grant sounds astounded when he reacts to my answer with, “I’m sorry, you have people constantly telling you this, and you what? Don’t believe them?” His question is genuine. Because he doesn’t understand why I could be so annoyed by that when I like the man. Because obviously I should be ecstatic that I have multiple people telling me what I should want to hear.

I sigh, and it almost sounds sad with the defeat lacing the breath, “It’s not about a lack of belief,” I start, “I can see where people get that idea from, don’t get me wrong.” My hand runs down the front of my neck as an act of self-soothing, “It’s just…” I begin again, “I’m being realistic.”

“Realistic?” Grant asks.

“Realistic,” I affirm, then I sigh again, “I’ve been friends with Tommy since I was quite literally brought into this world.” My eyes are staring off into the distance as I speak, my mind lazily tracking where we are as I think I’m not even tipsy enough for this conversation.

“And we’ve been as thick as thieves for about 18 years now. Everyone has an idea of what friends look like at a couple years, or maybe even a decade, but someone’s whole life? That’s different.” My hand is pulling at the skin on my wrist as I explain this, “Our friendship has always been unique, since we were toddlers, then kids, then tweens, then teens, and now.”

I run a hand through my hair as I try and ignore the feeling of eight eyes on my back, and also try and ignore the urge to turn around and find out what they’re thinking by the looks on their faces. “Again, I can understand why people tell me this, trust me, I’m not blind to what other people see. But it’s just not that simple.”

When I finish it’s still silent, so I take the risk and look behind me at Grant, “Does that make sense?”

Grant nods haphazardly, “Yeah, it does,” he says quietly.

“Cool,” I mutter back as I try to avoid the other three boy’s eyes as my vision moves back to in front of me.

MEMOS!! this is taken straight from my script! but i wanted to share because it gives insight into how i view tommy’s possible feelings for me through the person in my life who kind of disrupts things