19. Chapter Nineteen Spin

Chapter Nineteen: Spin

A rush of relief washes over me when I walk into The Pickle and see Kiet sitting alone at a table in the back. When he sees me, he stands, and I throw myself at him, hugging him tightly.

"I hate fighting with you," I say into his chest.

"I don't remember us ever fighting before this," he says, stepping back from our embrace. "I ordered you a beer."

"Thanks. I wasn't trying to fight with you," I say as we sit down.

"Right, you were trying to fight with Daw. That's why…" His eyes move toward the door.

Looking in the direction Kiet is looking, my eyes widen in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me. Kiet, please tell me you didn't invite her here for this."

"This is more about you and Daw than it is about you and me."

Jaw clenched, I lean back in my chair. "Fuck, you are unbelievable."

"Don't be a dick, Baby," Kiet says .

I look at him incredulously. "Me? You're telling me not to be a dick? What about her?" I jerk my head toward Daw just as she reaches our table.

"Great, sounds like he's already revved up," she says, sitting next to Kiet and kissing him on the cheek.

Fuming, I can't even bear looking at her. I thought Kiet and I were going to be able to talk things out between us, and he's brought Daw here to stir up more conflict. And I'm fucking stuck because P'Park dropped me off. I should've realized Kiet wouldn't go against his controlling girlfriend's wishes.

"We need to get this out in the open," Kiet says to me. "You were rude to Daw, and I expect you to apologize to her."

My mouth drops. "What about all the times she's insulted me, or Cushion, or Bass?"

"You just don't get her humor," Kiet says.

"I get ridicule when I hear it, thanks very much."

"Bab—Spin."

I glare at him for not using my nickname because of her, the headache I've had since yesterday flaring behind my eyes. I am so sick of this shit.

"It's weird that you make your friends call you Baby ," Daw says to me.

"I don't make them do anything. It's a nickname."

"Why don't you just admit that you're gay and that you want my boyfriend?" Daw looks like she wants to claw my face with her long pink fingernails.

"Daw," Kiet warns. "I told you that isn't what's happening here."

"You're such a good person you can't see what's happening. But I can see right through Spin and his…" She makes air quotes with her fingers, "need for attention."

"Your paranoia knows no bounds, Daw," I say, rolling my eyes at her before turning to Kiet. "Why are we doing this?"

"I'd like my best friend and my girlfriend to get along. Is that so much to ask?"

"In this case, yes it is." I feel badly for him, I really do, but I can't do this anymore. When I saw that he wanted to meet me, I thought he understood. That he would make time for his friends separate from his girlfriend. The fact that he thinks Daw and I can work through this just shows how far up her ass he's crawled.

"I've tried, Kiet. I really have. I'm not going to speak for Cushion and Bass, but I don't get along with Daw. And I don't think it's that crazy for me to ask that we be able to hang out without her."

"You're acting like I never see you alone, and that's bullshit. Remember the night I dropped you off at the event? We hung out then. I did your hair and makeup."

"Something you really enjoy doing, by the way, but rarely do because Daw thinks it's girly," I remind him.

Kiet glances at Daw like he's sorry he brought up the subject.

"And that was the first time in I don't know how long that we've been alone," I add.

"I'm just going to be brutally honest," Daw says, looking at me. "I don't like you, Spin. I've never liked you. I don't think Kiet should be friends with you because you're a gay bl actor who is dragging him down."

"Wow. Are you sure that's all, Daw?" I ask sarcastically.

Ignoring me, she looks at Kiet. "Sever this unhealthy relationship with Spin, or you and I are through."

I can tell Kiet didn't expect her to throw down the gauntlet like that, but it doesn't surprise me at all. Surely he sees what she's doing. How manipulative she is. She wants him to end a six-year friendship because she doesn't like me.

"Daw, Babe. I can't choose—"

"Well, you have to." Daw stands up from the table. "Have your time with him, if you want it so badly. But I'm telling you now, it's Spin or it's me. Your choice." She stalks away.

Kiet stares after her until the bells jingle as she exits the bar.

I drink my beer, waiting for him to process. When he finally focuses on me, he looks upset.

"I can't choose," he repeats.

"I'm not asking you to. She is." I gesture to the waiter for another beer, and Kiet grabs my arm.

"I don't want to lose either of you."

"I don't want that either, but think about it. She shouldn't be threatening you with this. We should be able to keep our friendship while the two of you date. I'm not asking you to dump her; I just don't want to be around her. You never have a minute for your friends because she's always monopolizing your time, and I'm sick of staying quiet about it, Kiet. I'm sorry." My heart softens as his face crumples. Grabbing his hand, I squeeze it tightly.

"Do you really love her?" I ask.

He meets my eyes and nods. The panicked expression on his face breaks me.

Taking a deep breath, I say, "Then go after her."

"But—"

"I'll always be your friend, I promise." But we both know Daw won't allow that, and we stare miserably at each other for long seconds before Kiet gets up from the table. With one more lingering, sorrowful look at me, he turns and leaves the bar .

I take a motosai home. When I enter my dark, empty apartment, the silence is more than I can bear. I search my phone for some upbeat music and connect with the speaker in the kitchen. My breakfast dishes are in the sink. I need to wash them and do my best not to replay what just happened with Keit in my mind. Glancing at the shelves on the wall, my eyes search out the big conch shell sitting in a place of honor in the middle. My mother gave it to me, and it's the only thing I have left of her. Looking at it makes me feel better, as though she's here, telling me that everything's going to be all right.

With a sigh, I roll up my sleeves and turn on the hot water.