I'm lying on my bed, reading the next day when my phone buzzes.  I close my book and reach over to pick it up from my desk and see a text message.

Brendon: Feeling lonely, can we meet?

No, no! I can't keep doing this, I won't.

Brendon: Read receipt. Gotcha ;)

Fuck.

I sigh deeply.

Okay Callie, think.  You just have to compromise between your id and superego.

Me: I'm raising the price.

Brendon:  ... To what?

Me: $25 for sex.   $15/hr just to hang out.

Brendon: ...

As long as we've been spending time together, there's no way he's going to pay that much.

Brendon: ...

At the very least, it'll decrease the time and lessen until he won't want to see me anymore.

Brendon:  ... Okay

I throw my arms to my sides and roll my eyes.

Double fuck!  I forgot, he's rich. I could charge 1000 dollars and he could afford it.  Maybe he'll change it to another day based on the new policy.

Brendon: Are you still coming?

I should just tell him 'I don't want to do this anymore.'  Why is this so hard to do?

Me: You're also gonna have to tell me what we're doing ahead of time.

Brendon: ... I wanna take you somewhere.

Uhh, why?   Me: Where?

Brendon: Surprise.

Is he serious?

Brendon: Please don't let me ruin it.

Goddammit, he's throwing the line again.

Brendon: Just come to my house.  I'll tell you when you get here.

When.  He assumes I'm coming.

Me: Don't mistake my inquiries for confirmation.

Brendon:  ... So is that a yes or no?

He's giving me the option to take the bait.   If I say no, he probably won't inquire further.  The keyword there is 'Probably.'  Read receipts bode ill to us all.  Then again, it appears I'm capable of controlling myself as long as I'm not typing. In that case...

I turn it off and place it back on my desk, not caring about the read receipts, and pick up my book again.

Good job, Callie.  Your ego did something right for once.

My phone rings and Brendon's name pops up.

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

It keeps ringing.

Don't answer it, Callie.  Don't.

I practically throw my book to the side and pick up my phone, sliding the 'answer' button and put it to my ear.

"You don't like surprises," I can hear the smile in his voice.  "I'll keep that in mind for future references."

Future references?    "What's wrong with starting now?"

"Relax, I'm not gonna murder you or anything."

Oh sure, like there's nothing worse than that.

"So?"  He continues.

"So, what?"

"Are you coming?"

The only thing that would make this easier is if one of us was dying of cancer.

"Callie?"

Just say no.  Say no.  Say no.   "What time?"

"7:00."

Why am I thinking?  Just answer.  "Sure."  Kill me right now.

"Building anticipation too.  I like that you're slow.  You don't jump into things."

What doesn't he admire me for?

"I'll see you later, Callie."

I hang up and throw my phone to the side, rubbing my face in my hands.

I am my own worst enemy.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'd be lying if I said I thought about standing him up.  That didn't occur to me until his house was in viewing distance.  I knock on the door and Brendon opens it.

"Hey," he smiles, wearing a black baseball cap, white shirt and leather jacket with jeans.

I turn my mouth a bit.

"So, there's this restaurant in the town that's usually packed, but on Thursday nights, they're practically empty."  He closes and locks the door.

I'm sorry, what?  We're going to a restaurant?  In public?  With people?  People who will see us?

"It's nothing fancy.  Pretty much your typical coffee shop/diner setting with better quality food and service."

But people will see us.

"I think it'd be nice if we could walk through the park on the way there. It's a beautiful day for it, wouldn't you say?"

I nod and he smiles.

As we stroll through the park, the path we're on resembles a street.  It's wide enough to fit a lot of people, but there aren't many out here. The occasional biker rides by every now and then, in addition to some runners on their, well, run.  The setting sun bathes through the trees, creating golden patches of all irregular shapes and sizes on the black pavement.

"I used to take walks like this all the time," Brendon breaks the silence.  "Whenever Sarah and I had a falling out, I'd give her room to breathe and come out here.  Always by my lonesome," I feel his attention on me.  "but it's nice to have someone with me."

Why do I have the impulse to respond?  "Have you ever assumed that...  I'm a bit weird?"

He shrugs. "Nothing wrong with weird.  Besides, if every person were the same, that wouldn't be fun at all.  Everyone would be boring. I  wish everybody would stop being so fucking sensitive to people who don't conform to norms and have their own way of being.  Just mind your own business and look the other way."

Look the other way. Something you can't seem to do with me.

"Sometimes," he continues. "I wish we lived in a world where people could be themselves without fear of being judged.  We probably wouldn't have most of the problems we do now because everyone would be living freely."

Wow.  That's actually deep.

"I guess with you I just...  never want to see you walk away."

I don't want to walk.  I want to fall into a hole in the ground.  But knowing you, you'd jump in after me.  Hmm, maybe falling into a coma is easier.

"There's a lot of lame guys out there.  I don't want you to be with any of them."

Okay, I'll give him that.  None of us are in the right state of mind, but I'll confirm that -- Brendon's not lame.  Maybe that's one of the reasons why it's so hard to shut him out.   I know for a fact one of them is my own stupidity.

"Here," he hands me some cash.  "$50 bucks downpayment.  You can expect to be very rich tonight," he smiles.  "Uh, and about these new regulations, if anything changes like we first say we're just hanging out, and you actually want to 'do it', let me know.   I can adapt quickly.  I'm flexible."  He smiles.

Fucking conformity.

"I think about you a lot," he says.

There's the puppy dog expression again.

"You don't have to tell me why you left last night, but when you did, I was wondering if you were okay."

If by that, he means I lied awake all night questioning my own existence, then yes.  Everything was hunky-dory.

"You didn't...  you didn't cut again, did you?"

I can't say it didn't come to mind, but that wasn't the question.

I shake my head.

Brendon nods and lightly sighs in relief.  "I believe you.  Do you know why I believe you?"

"No."

"Because you have no reason to lie to me."

Yes.  If anything, more truth has been spilled to you than anyone else.

"You know," he adjusts his cap.  "I read that few-spoken people are more intelligent.  They listen, collecting information while everyone shoots off at the mouth."

Is he really trying to justify my unresponsiveness?

"Maybe I should try it."

You wouldn't last a day.

"Heh, who am I kidding?   I wouldn't last a day."

I only know he's not reading my mind because I'm visualizing a therapeutic chain of events that would make even him raise eyebrows.