14. Chapter Fourteen
Vincent was actually really busy with his work. Not only did he take pictures for the publishing company but also a local small time newspaper. And he also did freelance stock photography. But he was living alone just like I was and he usually only ate frozen dinners. So when he left, I sent him home with enough leftovers to hold him over until Monday. I’d never seen a man more excited to receive Tupperware in my entire life.
Having Vincent come over so often was great. I only had three friends. Caitlyn was still in school until her winter break. Jaime was also busy with her non-failure of a culinary school career. And Sean. Who was only ever free for dinner and on Sundays.
I always had a fondness for Vincent. Not really in a romantic way. I know we kissed twice when we were kids, but I didn’t really think of him in a romantic way. And after that it was kind of difficult to think of him that way since my sister was having his baby. But it was always nice having him around. He tried to be my friend even though it didn’t actually work out. And I really cared for him. Even if not romantically.
But Sean apparently didn’t think so. One night he was over at my house for dinner, and I could tell something was bothering him. We were sitting on the couch watching TV until his next bus showed up. But he was in his own little world.
“Are you okay?” I asked him.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You’ve been really quiet.” He shrugged.
“You’ve been doing all the talking anyway.” I wasn’t sure if that was mean to insult me. But it did.
“Well, it would help if I knew what I did wrong.” He sighed.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just tired of hearing about Vincent.” My eyebrows furrowed.
“I’ve only talked about Vincent once.”
“Today. But every single time I’m over here you spend half the night talking about Vincent. About how you went to high school together. How he kissed you more than once. How you might have liked him if he hadn’t got your sister pregnant. How happy you are that he’s your photographer. How much fun you have whenever he comes over. On the nights when you used to have me over if you remember correctly. He’s here more than I am now. And when he’s not here you won’t stop talking about him.”
“Wow,” I said slowly. “Funny you didn’t strike me as the jealous type. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered to tell you about my life at all. I guess there’s a reason you’re my boyfriend, and he’s not.” I stood up and headed down the hall to escape him. I let Reggie out of the bathroom and he followed me into my bedroom. He hopped up onto the bed beside me and sat down on my lap. I saw Sean walk down the hall, and I took a deep breath. He stopped at the doorway and leaned against it with both arms.
“The only reason I’m your boyfriend and he’s not is because I got here before you ran into him again,” he said. “And right now the only thing keeping him from being your boyfriend is me.”
“That’s not true. Don’t be so mean. I just haven’t seen him in almost five years, okay? He was pretty much the only person who was nice to me in high school. So I talk about him a lot? Who cares? You’re my boyfriend. I thought I could talk to you about the things that go on in my life. You’re the one who decided you couldn’t be here when he came over. It’s not my fault I spend more time talking to him than you. You made that decision. And I’m not even his type, so I don’t even know what you’re worried about.” I went back to petting Reggie.
“Wow, Piper. Really? I was more worried about him being YOUR type. But I’ve seen that guy, and you’re exactly his type. He’s a photographer. He goes for the artsy type girls with pink hair.” I snorted. I wasn’t the artsy type at all. “And don’t snort at me like you know something I don’t. I can see it on your face when you talk about him. I am jealous. And I think I’m allowed to be jealous. I really really like you and for a while there I thought you liked me too. Now I can see that you don’t, and you never did. Because you never got over him.” He turned and walked away.
“What are you even talking about?” I snapped. “I never even dated him.”
“Your library books are due back at the end of the week,” he said from the front room as he slammed my door.