#miscommunications

“Bee, you are the most cautious person I know. You text me when you’re going grocery shopping! Last night, no one knew where you were. Steve hadn’t heard from you, Chris is fuckin’ useless. No one could even get in touch with Eddie.” You say a silent thank you to the universe for that one. “I was worried fuckin’ sick!”

You have to say something quickly. “It wasn’t a blind date.” Not a lie. 

“You mean… It’s someone we, like, know?”

You nod. You have to be very, very careful here. 

“I’m sure you can figure out my next question.”

“And I’m sure you can understand that I will not be answering it.” Robin opens her mouth to argue when Missy returns with two plates stacked full with the works: sausage links, two eggs over easy, chocolate chip silver dollar pancakes, wheat toast slices with a pad of butter. 

“Anything else for you ladies?” She asks sweetly. 

You’re about to ask her how she’s been, how the grandkids are, when Robin snaps. “No! We’re great, thanks Missy!” When the woman retreats back into the kitchen, Robin returns her attention to you. 

“Who is it?”

“Robin.”

“I have a guess.”

“I’m sure you do. I am not confirming nor denying any of your theories.”

“This must be someone you’re embarrassed about. Someone… so not your type.”

You want to tell her that’s not it, but you fight the instinct. You’re not embarrassed by Eddie, not in the slightest. You’re just not sure you can handle the told-you-so’s from everyone just yet. 

“Oh my god, Bee. I totally know who it is!” You gulp. “It’s Carver! Oh, that’s so awesome.” Her words drip with sarcasm. Robin throws her head back, cackling maniacally. 

You think about correcting her. You could end this horrible speculation right now, but you don’t. You can’t risk it, Robin’s a fantastic interrogator. 

She stops laughing suddenly. “What about Eddie?”

Shit. “What about him?”

“This is gonna, like, break his heart.” 

You give your best look of disbelief. “He’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, when pigs fuckin’ fly, Bee.”

“Okay, so… don’t tell him? He doesn’t need to know.” You’re digging a very deep hole now, but you can’t seem to shut your mouth. “It’s not, like, a serious thing. Just something to do I guess.”

Robin scrunches her face in disgust. “Been that dry lately, huh?”

“Ew, don’t say it like that.”

She bursts into giggles, and you can’t help but laugh with her. 

“Seriously,” You say between huffs, “Don’t tell him. If it comes to it, I will.”

“So you admit that boy’s in love with you? Finally?”

You shrug. “He’s always had good taste. Enough about that, though. What have you been up to lately?”

Robin shrugs, stuffing another bite of pancake into her mouth. “Honestly? Not much. Well, I’m up for a promotion at the shop.”

“Oh? That’s not nothing!”

“Eh, I dunno if I want more responsibility. They want me to be a shift manager, give me keys and shit.”

“You want more money though, no?”

“That is a very, very good point.”

“I make a lot of those.”

—

You try not to think anything of it when Eddie doesn’t text you for the entire day. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you’ve seen him, he’s giving you space. 

But you don’t want space, not from Eddie. You have the night off, but both of your friends are at work until at least ten-thirty, and you feel weird about texting Eddie first.

Is it my turn to ask him out? Your nerves start to chew at your brain. He took me to lunch, it’s my turn to ask him out. I think that’s how it works, right?

You text Steve.

> if he took me on a first date, would it be my turn to plan something?

stevie: Not necessarily. You went on a date?

> rob didn’t already blurt that out?

stevie: … She totally did.

stevie: Sorry.

> it’s fine. anyway, what do u mean not necessarily? stevie: Well, it depends. The date was what, last night? > well, i left last night… the actual date was the day before. stevie: You slept with him already?! stevie: Who are you and what have you done to my best friend? > NO!! we didn’t… well. stevie: ?!?!?!?! > we didnt go like all the way stevie: Did you… yknow > did I what stevie: Go… Downtown? > *i* did not stevie: DID HE?!?! > … stevie: Oh, Bee stevie: The ball is entirely in your court stevie: Actually, scratch that. Ball’s in the end zone. Touchdown, field goal, whatever.  > steve. in layman’s terms, please stevie: Short answer, yes. It is your turn.  > whats the long answer? stevie: He’s probably already planning your honeymoon with a first date like that.  > because…?

stevie: I say this as a lover boy myself, no way I’d let a girl sleep over on a first date if it were just a fling. After a couple times sure, but a stranger? Sleeping in my house? > what if he’s not a stranger stevie: Excuse me? > rob didn’t tell u? stevie: I thought she was joking!! You’re fucking dating Carver?! > oh my god IT’S NOT CARVER!!! stevie: But it IS someone we know?? > yes. stevie: And you’re not gonna tell us? > not right now. stevie:  WHY NOT!!!

You groan, locking your phone before tossing it onto your bed. Instead of texting Eddie, you do anything but that. Chris is out, so you have the house to yourself. You take advantage of the alone time, first thoroughly vacuuming the entire apartment. You bring your laundry down to the shared machines in the basement, and run the full dishwasher before scrubbing your pan from breakfast in the sink.

Once your living area is sparkling, you move to your bedroom. Even now, after living in this apartment for a year, there are still boxes to be unpacked. You get to work, connecting your phone to your bluetooth speaker, and sitting cross legged on your carpeted floor with your brother’s old pocket knife. 

The first box is labeled Bee’s Bedroom, written in your mother’s elegant handwriting. It’s a box reused from when you packed for college, the cardboard ripped in places from being opened the first time. You slice through the packing tape, pulling back the flaps to reveal the contents of your life, packed neatly within the cardboard walls. You pull out your books, a couple photo albums, and the old leather bound journal you’d kept throughout college. It’s practically split in half, pages worn with age, and you decide against opening it. College was a difficult time for you, and you’re pretty sure those pages have the only documentation of the horrible times you’d had in those four years. Instead, you open your phone again, clicking on your message thread with Eddie, staring at the last exchange you’d had while the cursor blinks at you, tauntingly. At the bottom of the box is an old photo, one you’d taken with your mother’s polaroid camera, a picture of you and Eddie at Lover’s Lake in high school. You smile, picking the photo out from the box, and decide to place it in your vanity mirror before picking your phone back up to text him.

> hey.

But he doesn’t respond. You sigh, locking your phone and tossing it aside.

“Why the long face?” Chris leans against the kitchen counter across from you. “You’ve been mopey all day.”

“It’s nothing.” 

“Eddie go quiet?”

You look up at him. “So what if he did? I really don’t need you giving me shit about that right now.”

“I wasn’t gonna! I just know how he is. Want me to text him?”

“Wouldn’t that reveal that you, y'know, know about us?”

“Not if I don’t tell him. You forget, Bee, I’m a fantastic liar.” It’s true, you’ve never seen someone lie as convincingly as your brother, but something in the back of your brain is warning you not to take him up on the offer.

“No, it’s alright. It’s only been a day. No big.”

“Okay, whatever. You wanna watch a movie?”

You nod, following him to the couch.

— eddie: fuckin’ carver? eddie: of all people?

The messages come in the middle of the night, two days after you’d told Robin that lie. This is the first time you’re hearing from him. 

> i had to tell her something! how did you even find out? eddie: steve has a big mouth. eddie: but i get it, i guess eddie: i just thought eddie: never mind. night, bee [eddie has Notifications turned off]

You frown, staring at the messages. It’s not that big of a deal, is it? Lying about seeing Jason to save you the drama that will come with telling your friends you’d been seeing Eddie, if you can even call it that? 

> you thought what?

But Eddie doesn’t answer, so you plug your phone into its charger, and try to go back to sleep. 

–

It’s been about a week, and you feel the stone in your stomach. Everything feels heavier, slower, desaturated. You have to work tonight. It’s Tuesday, and it will be the first time you see Eddie in person since your night together.

“Chris!” You call out to your brother, but he doesn’t respond. You throw your blanket from your body, rolling over to get up and make yourself presentable. You decide on your favorite pair of jeans, a light wash with a high waist, hemmed perfectly to land at your ankles. They make your butt look fantastic, and you bloom with confidence when you slide them on. You pair the pants with a black, form fitting t-shirt with HIDEOUT printed across the front, and HEAD BARTENDER on the back, both written in a font reminiscent of American traditional tattoos. Originally, your mom had forced the staff to wear branded shirts “to identify employees” but had given up on that rule over the years. The shirt is cute, though, and you’ve kept it in your work clothing rotation. 

Eddie still hasn’t texted you back, and the stone gets bigger. You can feel it in your throat, your chest, your toes. A desperate, silent plea for him to talk to you. Truthfully, you don’t understand why he’s so upset. He knows you aren’t ready to tell your friends about him, so why does the lie even matter? He knows the truth, shouldn’t that be enough?

> see you tonight?

You stare at the thread of messages and try to figure out what went wrong. He seemed a little extra upset about Carver, and you don’t blame him. Jason had been Eddie’s arch nemesis in high school. Even when he’d been behind two grades, he’d been the textbook definition of a high school jock: Decked out in green and gold every day, letterman jacket draped over his girlfriend’s shoulders, clean cut, blonde hair, perfect teeth. You’d never been even slightly attracted to him then, and you have no idea what he’s like now. You know he hasn’t left town, he still frequents the bar on weekends, but you don’t make a point to say hello. He was awful to Eddie, but he’d never bothered you, or even noticed your existence. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

eddie: yeah. it’s tuesday. 

It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing at all. 

–

The band is already setting up when you arrive at work.

“Bee! You’re late!”

“I know, I’m sorry!” You call to Kev, who’s dripping sweat as he shakes another cocktail for a customer. “Had some stuff I had to take care of!” You don’t explain, weaving your way through the small groups of drunk patrons to find your mother in the back office.

“Hi, baby!” She calls as you swipe your punch card. “You alright? You’re never this late.”

You sigh, dropping your bag on the desk beside your mom before falling into the chair. 

“I feel like shit.”

She pouts, turning away from the computer to better look at you. “Tell Mama what’s goin’ on.”

You shake your head, the feeling of defeat still eating at you. “I think I fucked up. You can’t tell anyone though, not even Chris.”

Your mom nods. “I won’t.”

“I went on a date last week. He hasn’t talked to me since, and it’s been agonizing. I’ve never felt like this about a fuckin’ boy before.”

“Was it Eddie?”

“Mom!”

“What?”

“Why does everyone think it’s Eddie?”

She gives you this look, one asking if you really want her to answer that. You just nod. 

“Bee, honey, you’ve been smitten with that boy since middle school, whether you wanna admit it or not. You two used to be attached at the hip, together every second of almost every day until Chris stole him out from under you. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that you two have reconnected. And I see the way he looks at you. He wears his heart on his sleeve and anyone with a brain can see it beats for you.” You feel the prickle of tears behind your eyes as she speaks, and you quickly blink them away. “So, how’d you fuck it up? Did you forget to tell him you feel the same way?”

“Who says I do?”

“You’re good at a lot of things, but lying has never been one of them.” She chides, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Am I on the right track?”

You shrug, exhaling a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what happened. I guess it could be because I haven’t told Steve and Robin yet. I told them I had a date with Carver.” Your mom scrunches her nose in disgust. “As a joke! But I don’t think they figured that part out. The information got back to Eddie. I think he’s upset I didn’t just tell them it was him I had a date with.”

“Or he thinks you really are dating Jason?”

You look at your mom, eyes widen. “You think he thinks that little of me? That I’d date the guy that tormented him in high school?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, babe. He did get held back twice, I don’t think he’s the sharpest tool in the shed.” 

“Mom!”

She snickers, and you can’t help giggling with her. “I know, I’m sorry! But seriously, just talk to him. I’m sure you’ll find it’s all just a big misunderstanding.”

You nod, swiping a stray tear from your cheek. “Thanks, Mama.”

She gets up, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Of course, my love. Now, let’s get out there and make some money.”

–

“Thank you everyone for comin’ out tonight. Just like every Tuesday, we have a special treat. Please give a warm Hideout welcome to Corroded Coffin!” You step away from the mic, gesturing to the stage behind you before sneaking behind the curtain and down the stairs. The band makes their entrance without flair, walking to their spots as the stage lights dim and the small crowd cheers. 

When Eddie approaches the mic in the front, you can’t help but stare. He’s dressed in a white muscle tank, with the arm holes ripped open wide, exposing each side of his torso. His eyes are lined with black, smudged despite the fact that he hasn’t broken a sweat yet. His pants are shredded black jeans, hugging his legs a little too tightly. His hair is extra unruly, like he purposefully messed it up before taking the stage. You don’t realize you’re staring until Steve nudges your shoulder with his. 

“Oh you two are so hooking up.”

“What?!” You whip around to look at your friend. “No, we’re not.”

“Right, and Robin’s not a lesbian.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Huh?” “Oh, I thought we were saying things that are very obviously not true.” He smiles at you and you backhand his arm, turning back to the stage. “I won’t tell anyone. You might wanna talk to him, though.”

“Okay, let’s humor this line of thinking for a second. Why do I wanna talk to him?”

“Well, I did. He’s not… doing well.”

You look up at Steve to read his face. Even in the low light, you can see the worry in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I may have told him you’re with Carver.”

“Why in the fuck would you do that?!” You remember the texts he’d sent you. You’d thought he’d been upset you didn’t tell them the truth, but he’d believed the lie too. “Because I thought he deserved to know! Truthfully, I figured he’d lie and say he knew, or he’d pretend to be okay. Bee, he broke down. I told him I was joking but he wouldn’t listen to me. I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t have said anything. I was hoping he’d just laugh and tell me the truth, but he… he definitely thought I was serious.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut as you process this information. That’s why he’s not texting you. He genuinely, truly thinks that little of you. You feel the stone in your throat again as you look at him onstage. He’s focused on his instrument, shredding it with his tongue poking out the side of his mouth, brow furrowed in concentration. 

“You are dating him, then?” Steve eventually asks, voice cautious in case you’re still too pissed at him to answer.

“Well, I don’t think I am anymore. But yeah. It was him.” You feel your heart crack when you use the past tense. “And I fucked it up.”

“Hey,” Steve turns your body to face him. “You didn’t fuck anything up. I probably did, but that’s something I can, and will, fix. Don’t worry about it, I got you.” He looks so apologetic, so sincere. 

“Okay. You better, or I’m revoking your free drink privileges.”

Steve nods frantically. “Aye, aye.”

–

You ring the last call bell, earning a collective groan from your customers. 

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.” You move back to the bar to take the last line of drink orders before you close for the night.

Imagine your surprise when the next person up is none other than Jason Carver. 

“Bee!” He greets you cheerfully, clearly already very drunk. “Wow, haven’t seen ya in ages, you look good!”

You laugh nervously, hoping Eddie is nowhere close enough to see you two interacting. “Hi, Jason. How’s it goin’?”

“Pretty good! Just got engaged, actually!”

Oh, good Christ. “That’s so nice to hear! What can I get ya to drink?”

“I’ll get a vodka soda for me, and a dirty martini for the lady over there.” He points back to the booth he’d been in, where a pretty blonde girl sits waiting for him. You nod, punching his order into the computer before running his card and closing out his tab. “Be right up.” Your smile is purely customer service, and it fades as soon as he walks to the other end of the bar. 

The next person to approach you makes your chest tighten.

“Hey.”

His eyeliner is practically gone, the remainder smudged beneath his eyes. His hair sticks to his skin that shines with sweat. He’s wearing a frown that makes your heart ache, but you try to play the whole thing off casually.

“Hi.”

“Can I get a Coors?”

No nicknames, no teasing, no flirty smile. Eddie is completely stoic, like he’s encased in marble. You nod, comping his order like you always do before turning to grab a glass from the dish rack. You hear your heart thumping wildly in your ears as you pour his drink, desperate for him to say anything. When he doesn’t, you have to fill the silence.

“Great show tonight.”

“Thanks.” He gives you what you think is supposed to be a smile, but his lips are pressed too tightly together. When you hand him his drink, he adds, “I talked to Steve.”

Your heartbeat gets louder. “Oh?”

“Turns out I’m a moron.”

You let a loud laugh slip from your throat. “Sorry, what?”

“You’re not dating Jason.”

“I am not dating Jason.”

“I thought you were.” He hangs his head, looking at you with puppy dog eyes through his wild bangs.

“I figured that part out.” You smirk at him. “I can’t believe you think so little of me.”

“Of course I don’t! It just… made sense to me. He’s handsome, athletic, with a fancy job.” He lists these things like they’re of any importance to you.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“You really are a moron.” You say it without malice, and you watch the way his face shifts, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “But I should have just told them the truth in the first place. I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head, moving to the side so the next patron can place their order. “You have nothing to be sorry about, I get it. You’d told me you didn’t want them to know. The lie just felt too real, I think.”

You finish punching the customer’s order into the computer before turning to the counter to make it. “Well, it’s not. Jason’s actually here with his fiancee tonight.” You gesture to the far booth, where Carver still sits with the blonde lady, holding her hand across the table. “And he’s balding. At twenty-three.” You snicker before looking back at Eddie, who’s taken a seat at the bar stool across from you. 

“So you only want me for my luscious locks, huh?”

You giggle, reaching across the counter to twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. “Obviously.”

“You doin’ anything after work?” He asks into his glass, taking another swig.

“Nope, just gotta shower the smell of vodka off my skin. You got something in mind?”

“Meet me outside when you’re out.” He leans across the table, beckoning you closer. When you lean in, he places a soft, quick kiss on your cheek, and you feel your cheeks burn. He gulps down the last of his drink before placing it on the counter between you. You can only wave as he gets up to leave. 

–

It feels like years have passed, but you’re finally released from the bar at 2AM. The cold air of night hits you hard as you step out of the Hideout’s double doors, followed quickly by the smell of Camels. Against the brick, Eddie leans as he takes another drag, blowing smoke into the darkness.

“Those’ll kill ya, y’know.” You quip, making your way to where he stands.

Eddie shrugs. “So I’ve heard.” He offers the pack out to you, and you pluck one from the cardboard, bringing it to your lips. Instead of pulling out his lighter, Eddie brings the end of his own lit cigarette to yours as you inhale. He doesn’t say anything for a bit, but the silence isn’t awkward, not something that needs to be filled. You feel at ease, after a week of wondering if you’d ever get to speak to him again.

Finally, as he stubs out his cigarette against the concrete, he turns to you. “What are we doing?”

It’s not the question you’re expecting. “What do you mean?”

“Like, this,” He gestures between your bodies. “What is this?”

You don’t actually know the answer to that. “What do you want this to be?”

Eddie shakes his head, sighing. “It’s not up to me.”

“It is, though, at least fifty percent. It takes two to tango, or whatever.” You’re trying to lighten the conversation, but to no avail.

“I don’t want to freak you out.”

“There’s nothing you could say that would freak me out at this point, Ed.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Try me?”

He pauses, as if trying to gather the courage to give you an answer. “I wanna be yours.” The words feel thick in your ears, and you roll them around in your head as he keeps talking. “I mean, I am. Entirely. But I need you to know that. Whenever you’re ready, if you ever are. If you ever want me, I’m here. I’ll drop everything. Whatever I have to do to prove it, I will.” You know he’s still a little drunk, but he sounds determined, like you won’t believe him. “You don’t need to decide right now, but I need you to know how I feel. It has always been you, Bee. You’ll always be my girl.”

Instead of responding, you flick the rest of your cigarette onto the ground, quickly putting it out with your foot before you move closer. You lean against the brick wall, your shoulder brushing against his own. He turns to look down at you, and you give him the brightest smile you can muster. 

“I already have my answer, though.”

His own smile widens, eyes crinkling. “Yeah?”

You nod, and Eddie moves to press you further into the wall, standing in front of you with an arm on either side of your head. His face is so close to yours, you’re sure he can hear your shallow breathing. “I’m all yours, Eds.”

He closes the gap, lips finding yours easily. The smoke on his breath fills your senses as you kiss him, slow and deliberate, as if trying to prove your promise to him. You wrap your arms around his neck, and his move to latch onto your waist. You don’t even care that you’re in public, that bar patrons are still lingering on the sidewalk, probably staring at the couple macking on each other by the door. In your head, though, it’s just you and Eddie. Nothing outside of your bubble matters. Your hands travel into his hair, desperately pulling him further into you, as if you’re not already connected. 

“Come home with me?” He asks, breathless when he finally breaks the kiss. “You can shower there, if you want.”

“Okay, yeah. You okay to drive?”

“I actually, uh, got dropped off here. I was already pretty drunk.”