“Him.” I indicated the other dancer, who was watching us with undisguised interest. I wondered briefly who I thought I was, if I was Liam’s boyfriend, if he cared.
“What about him?” Liam backed away far enough for me to see his confused expression.
I almost gave up. If he really didn’t know why I was upset… But this felt important, it felt like a turning point. Passive little good-time Toby was dead.
“Get down here.” I half-helped, half-hauled Liam off the stage. He landed on his feet, steadied himself against a stranger and turned back to me, his expression still bewildered. The bass thumped and bodies swarmed around us and there was no way I was going to say everything I wanted to say in front of dozens of curious strangers—none of whom were even bothering to hide their interest in our conversation—even if I could have made myself heard above the music.
Liam followed placidly as I led him out of the club. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour but already the sky was paling, the deep violet fading and the tall buildings of the city centre standing in stark relief to the night like watchful guardians, the twinkling red and orange and white lights at their extremities shining brighter than the stars.
The five-minute cab ride seemed to last forever. I refused to talk to Liam until we were in the privacy of my home, but he refused to give up asking me what was wrong. With every word he uttered, my mood grew blacker, a dark and malevolent thing riding in the backseat between us.
By the time I opened my front door and ushered him into my house, I don’t know which of us was angrier.
“Are you going to explain yourself?” Liam demanded, pacing the room like a caged panther. “I was in there!”
“Exactly.” I also remained standing, too tense to sit.
“What does that mean?”
“If you think I’m going to spend the rest of my life watching you get off with other men, you’ve got another think coming. I can’t do it, Liam. You can’t make me.”
“Toby—”
“No, Liam. I know you, you’re not this stupid.”
He stopped pacing, suddenly apprehensive.
“You must know how I feel about you?”
“I, I…”
“I love you, you idiot. I’ve always loved you.”
We stood facing each other in the silence which followed my words. I was holding my breath, my heart hardly daring to beat, waiting for the axe to fall. Liam—my brash, beautiful Liam—looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, wide-eyed and terrified.
After the longest of pauses, he finally spoke. “I know.”
Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it made me feel worse.
“What the hell do you mean, you know?” I snarled. “You mean you’ve been using me all this time—”
Liam winced. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then explain it to me.” I sat, arms and legs crossed, right foot tapping furiously against my left leg. I couldn’t have made my body language more defensive if I’d tried.
“You’re my best friend… I don’t want to lose our friendship.”
“That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard. Try again.”
“It’s the truth!” he snapped, glaring at me.
“Whatever we are, Liam, we’re not friends.” Friends didn’t use each other, didn’t take advantage of someone’s feeling just to get an easy lay. Friends weren’t that cruel to one other.
“What are we then?” he demanded. “You put a name on it, since you’re the one who’s so keen to label us.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I countered.
“I know you’ve told everyone about us. I know what you want—”
“Is that such a terrible thing?”
“What if it goes wrong?” His eyes were wide, haunted by untold fears, and for a split-second I saw into his very soul, before the shutters came down and he locked me out.
“Is that all that’s stopping you?” I asked, heart in my mouth and hardly daring to hope.
“Isn’t it enough? We’ve known each other since we were five, Toby. What if we break up after six weeks and I never see you again?”
“What if we don’t? What if everything works out and fifty years from now we’re celebrating our golden anniversary?”
Liam laughed, cutting some of the tension from the room. “You think you’d put up with me for that long?”
“Forever,” I said, perfectly seriously. I hardly remembered my life before Liam entered it, and couldn’t imagine a future without him.
“How…” He swallowed thickly. “How would that even work?”
“You’ve had relationships before,” I replied sardonically. “Cards on the table, Liam. I love you. I love you and it’s killing me. If you don’t feel the same way then I’ll understand, but you can’t treat me like all your other mates, you can’t expect me to sit back and watch you pick up other guys when we’re out. And you can’t pick me up and drop me whenever you feel like it, either! I deserve better than that.”
He was nodding frantically. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not enough. ‘Sorry.’ I don’t care that you’re sorry, Li, we have to stop doing it! And,”—I took a deep breath—“and if you don’t want anything more, you need to give me time to accept it.”
“Would you?” he asked curiously. “Accept it, that is?”
I fought to keep my face from breaking and revealing just how much it hurt to hear him say he didn’t want me. “Yes,” I said thickly, choking on the word. “I, I think I was starting to, before tonight.”
“We could still be friends?”
“Yes, dammit!” I closed my eyes, concentrated on the sharp sting of my nails digging into my palms, the sensation grounding me in the present. “But I can’t, I can’t see you. Not for a while.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know, Liam!” How long does it take to mend a broken heart? “Just, please, go. Please.”
“Now?”
“Yes.” I ground out the word through gritted teeth, my eyes still closed. The room was utterly silent. Liam wasn’t speaking, but he wasn’t leaving, either.