Bloom (ARBAON #2)

Chapter Eight

"Why are you here?" I squeaked out. Mike's hair was still short and brownish blond matching the beard he was growing. Something about him still reminded me of a golden retriever.

Mike laughed, and it was weird the way half his mouth was swallowed up by beard. "Maybe I should ask you the same thing. And this is your date?" He looked to Ira before fixing his grey gaze back on me.

"Yeah, we thought bowling would be fun." Ira's voice was surprisingly cool. "And you are?"

Mike put his tray down and Ira followed suit. They shook hands and the entire mood around the table shifted. Things became...tense.

"I'm Ira, Derrick's date."

"Mike," he paused, looking at me and then away. "Derrick's friend from high school." Ah so that was who I was now...

"I bet Derrick was adorable in high school." Ira's voice was back to its casual lilt and yet his smile somehow seemed sharp. "All those curls and all that anger."

They stopped shaking hands but Mike's expression only softened further. "He definitely was adorable."

Ricky cleared his throat and the attention was directed back to him. He gave me a dark glare. "Sorry to interrupt the happy reunion... but your friend from high school here thought I was cheating on you with my client."

"He what?" Mike gave me a disapproving glance. "Derrick..."

Shit. Fucking damn. I had been wrong. Maybe I had just seen things with Ricky and the guy that I wanted to see. My throat suddenly felt tight and I coughed, trying to find air. Fuck. "You know, that was just a misunderstanding. It just looked like— and I thought— So, yeah."

I began to get up and then stopped, suddenly feeling disoriented. My face was on fire and I was stupid, in fact more than stupid. Why had I even gone over to the table? Looking down at my hands I saw my tattoos pushing up from my arms into my hands, and I could feel everyone staring at them. I pushed my hands beneath the table and onto my lap, clenching the fabric of my jeans instead. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I looked up. "So yeah. Uhh, sorry."

Ricky scowled. "Do you so frequently leap to conclusions?"

"No." I whispered, so incredibly humiliated.

"Yes, he does." Mike spoke over me, his voice somehow carrying so much more than mine.

Ouch. I gave Mike a hurt look but instead of the sympathy I was used to receiving from him, I only saw irritation. I got to my feet, and picked up the tray Ira had put down what felt like eons ago.

"We'll just go back to our table." Ira said quietly and we walked over some feet away. We were out of earshot but both of us had enough common sense to know we had to be the topic of conversation.

Ira set our food down, and started munching on his fries. His dry sense humour was closer to mine and I fully expected him to make a joke, but instead his voice was soft.

"What was that about?"

I swallowed, dipping my fries in ketchup and taking my time to chew. "I don't know why I did that."

"Me neither. Accusing someone of cheating is kind of serious, don't you think?" His voice was quiet but bled judgment, and I was beginning to realize how crazy I must look.

"Yeah..." I trailed off. "I just, I don't know. The way they were acting...It seemed intimate." I felt about as stupid as I sounded.

"But," Ira sighed. "Is their relationship really any of your business?"