6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Logan

T he apartment looks like the Adams family moved in, and really, what more can I ask for? After I haul in the last ceramic skulls to place around the TV, I stand back and admire my handiwork. In hindsight, I really should have gone into interior design rather than painting. I'm really good at designing. Of course, I'm good at painting, too; that's why I chose it. But there's something really enjoyable about the packing and unpacking and the purchasing part of decorating that's a bit lost with painting.

The other thing about decorating is that it's a good distraction…usually. Today, however, it's not working as well as it should. I keep going back to Mark's coffee date. He may have insisted it wasn't a real date, but it's so obviously real. But I've analyzed all my feelings about it and decided not to tell Mark that it really bothers me.

First of all, Mark can date whomever he wants, so I should stay out of his love life. It's not his fault that I couldn't get up the courage to ask him out.

Two. Knowing that doesn't help the fact that even as I stand and look at all my Halloween decorations, I'm thinking about how life just isn't fair. I would be better for Mark than this Brandon guy, even though I don't really know Brandon. Being jealous really sucks because you know it's bad, but somehow, you just can't help it. Jealousy is not a decision you make. You wake up with it, or unintentionally allow it in, no control.

I sigh and flop onto the couch, disturbing a flock of plastic Michael's bags, purple tinsel, and foam pumpkins.

The door opens, and I bolt up. Mark pauses in the doorway and stares. "You bought more ?" he asks, incredulous. "Is there anything left in the stores for the kids?"

Okay. Time to be a mature adult. Be friendly. You can do it.

"It's not my fault everyone else was slacking off," I reply, patting the space beside me. "Come! Join me in laying amidst my Halloween acquisitions; fruits of my labor!"

He crosses his arms. "You're something else. You know that?" Mark asks.

"That's why you love me," I answer in a sing-song voice.

"Yeah, right."

I feign a pout, and as usual, my charm and good looks have little effect. That might be part of why he's so attractive. He's one of the few people I know who doesn't take my crap. At least, he's one of the few who will call me out if I do something foolish or silly.

"Question, though," Mark says. "Brandon invited me out on a date."

"Of course, he did. The plebian swine." I think to myself.

"Told you so," I say.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Anyway, it's on Halloween, and I know we usually have plans..." he trails off.

I grab a ceramic skull and hold it in my hand. I'm fully prepared to launch into a Hamlet -style monologue about how he's abandoning me, but I look at him and the guilty expression on his face. Mark feels badly for asking. Probably because we always spend Halloween together. And then, I really can't bring myself to be such a jerk. Even if I meant it was a joke, it would probably make him feel really awful, and I don't want that. I really do care about him.

I shrug. "I think I'll survive," I say. "The last corn maze we went in, you nearly killed me."

That's only a bit of an exaggeration. A man with a chainsaw emerged from that corn maze, and Mark almost ran me over to escape. I didn't know Mark could run that fast.

"That's your fault. You told me it wasn't haunted!"

I smirk. "You should have known better," I reply. "So, where is Brandon taking you?"

"We're going to the gala at the art museum," he says.

I furrow my brow. "You realize that I could have—and would have—taken you to it any year if you'd mentioned you wanted to go, right?"

Does that little comment make this situation irrationally ten times worse? Yes. Because I would've taken him. I can't stand those fancy balls and parties, but I'd have had fun if he'd gone with me. And besides, what does Brandon have that I don't?

Mark shoves aside the cloud of tinsel and shopping bags before plopping onto the sofa beside me. "Well, it's not that I especially want to go to the gala," Mark says, "But I think it would be an excellent networking opportunity. I mean, they'll have curators, artists, gallery directors... it's a good chance for me to meet someone that might be able to give me, at least, a temporary career. Even if I graduate, I'll have to do something during the summer."

"I mean, you wouldn't have to," I say. "I would take care of any of the bills you couldn't make."

"That's not the point," he replies.

I know it isn't, but I still don't quite understand Mark's obsession with work. I'm his friend. We've lived together since we were in the same tiny dorm during our last year of undergrad, when his last roommate decided to go hike the Alps and never returned; probably dead. Surely, Mark shouldn't feel guilty if I help him along for a while. I definitely have money to spare.

"So, you really liked Brandon," I say.

"Way to change the subject," Mark replies.

I shrug. Mark should know by now, I have no shame. "You should know from experience we'll never agree on the other one, so tell me how the beautiful, valiant Sir Lancelot swept you off your feet like a blushing damsel."

"Please, don't say it that way."

"Well, he must have made quite an impression if you agreed to another date," I say. "And he's got you ready to sacrifice Halloween for networking ."

"Logan!"

I throw all hope of being a mature adult down the john. "Mark," I say. "Come on. You can network anytime. The art museum throws parties and events all year. They have that really big Christmas Ball. The art department has job sessions. Bluehaven has the Arts and Crafts Festival. You can spare Halloween. It's tradition!"

Am I being completely selfish? Perhaps. I realize the gracious thing to do would be to stand down and that I'm being kind of a jerk. So, what. I created this mess by not simply admitting to Mark that I like him … no, I love him. And then I encourage him…yeah, encourage him to talk to…to…What's-His-Face.

Why is Mark so oblivious when it comes to romance? Sure, he hasn't really dated in a while, but he's seen romantic subplots. He's addicted to those crappy Syfy original movies, and they always have a badly written and hackneyed romance subplot. He should know all the signs, and then some!

Unfortunately, it seems he does not.

"If you want me to tell him ‘no,' just say so," Mark says. "It's not the end of the world."

Even though I would love to jump on that task for Mark, it isn't my place to tell him that.

"No, I mean..." I trail off and steel myself. "I just want you to be happy, and if that's spending an evening with Bobby, …it's fine. I personally wouldn't want to go to that Halloween Gala, but if you do, it's fine. Really."

"His name is Brandon," Mark mutters.

"That's what I said…Brandel."

It really isn't fine, but that's not Mark's fault.

Mark jokingly punches my shoulder. "Thank you for being so gracious about it," he says.

"Yeah, I know. I'm a giver," I reply.

For a second, I consider buying my own ticket and going, but I can't pretend that tagging along would be anything less than blatantly third wheeling on my best friend's first date in…well… forever . Or maybe I buy a ticket and loiter. Then I can swoop in when good ol' What's-His-Face makes a wrong move.

Why did I go and encourage him? I should have just insisted Mark was overthinking things or let him do the talking when we were trying to figure out where he knew Brandon from. But now , not only is Brandon interested in Mark, it's all my fault.

I sigh. This time, I really should have backed down when Mark told me to.

"What's wrong?" Mark asks.

"Hm?"

"The long sigh."

Telling him right now just isn't an option. It wouldn't be right when he's sitting right beside me, all bright-eyed while he talks about Brandon.

"Nothing," I say. "I'm just a little tired."

Yeah, " Tired of ‘fucking Brandon'."

I know it's horrible, but I really want to break his face.

The worst thing about Brandon isn't that Mark is absolutely besotted and giddy about dating him.

The worst thing about Brandon isn't that he might be both more ripped and better endowed than me, although both of those are fairly vexing.

The worst thing about Brandon is that he seems to be a fairly decent man. How do you compete with that?

When Mark and I walk into painting, Brandon greets both of us. Leave it to Mark to find the one perfect person on the face of the planet. If I could just find one thing, just one, to turn Mark off to Brandon.

Our instructor has moved Brandon this time, so I'm painting his ass instead of his balls. His ass is also quite nice because, Heaven forbid Brandon have any imperfection. I bite the inside of my cheek. Is this in any way Brandon's fault? No. Should I think ill of Brandon for being so damn perfect? Of course not.

But God , it's just not fair. If he were a terrible human being, I would question Mark's interest in him, but I would also have a much easier time both hating Brandon and untangling my own feelings. Now, I'm stuck. What do I do now? I can't just turn off the way I'm pining after Mark! Life would be so much easier if I could.

I glance toward Mark painting beside me. I see the way the sun catches the color of his eyes and makes them look like a gold veneer; the way the light from the window hangs in his hair like a halo. My pulse races. Something has to give here, but I don't know what.

Well, I've never been one to back down from anything, though. And I like a challenge. I'm not going to lose to fucking Brandon.

I say that, but I don't have any real idea how not to lose to fucking perfect Brandon because I'm fully aware that jealousy is a bad thing. And if I'm an ass to Brandon, it'll make Mark angry. Now what?