67
“What were you and Matt talking about?” I began.
“When?” Nick asked.
“Today. Right when I walked in. I know you were talking about me.”
“Guy talk,” Nick said.
“Bull. Out with it.”
Nick chuckled softly. Even his voice over the phone can do it for me these days.
“Why don’t you ask him?” Nick said.
“Because Matt and I aren’t exactly friends. And I thought maybe you and I were, considering.”
“And here I thought you were going to tell me ‘now’ tonight. I’m seriously devastated.”
“Will you just tell me?” I said.
“Nope. Sorry. Some things are just between men.”
Hate him.
We hung up, and I waited. And waited. Past eight. Past nine.
Finally, a little before ten (my parents’ traditional cut-off time for any calls to the house), the phone rang. I let it ring six times before I answer
