Murmurs of understanding all around; eating expired food is a guy thing—one they both understand.
“What’s the big deal?”
“A girl in my office saw me.”
Another pause. “And?”
“She’s going to lord it over me.”
“So what, big deal, she saw you heave in the trash,” Blaine says nonchalantly, and I hear his keyboard clicking in the background. “Do you have a crush on her?”
No.
“Wait.” Brooks halts the conversation. “Is this the girl from the accounting department who watches you over the wall of her cubicle?”
“No.” Thank God.
Brooks lets out a hmm. “Is it the chick from sales who walks by your office four times a day pretending to be looking for your boss?”
Yeah, she’s weird, too. “No, it’s not that woman.” I pause, not sure how much of my day I should share, then inhale. “There’s more to this story.”
“There’s more than a woman at work watching you toss your cookies?”
“Yes,” I groan, watching through the window of my office to make sure no one is walking by—my door is open and the last thing I need is one of my colleagues overhearing me gossiping about myself. “I barfed in the trash can…of the guy who answers the phones…and then…he started gagging, too.”
The line is silent.
“Kind of like a pity gag?” Blaine’s question is cautious, as if he’s weighing his words.
“Yeah.” I stare up at the ceiling. “Exactly like a pity gag.”
More silence—which is so unlike my friends. They love nothing more than to mock me and make fun of the stupid things I do, and puking at work—in front of other people—is as good as it gets if you’re looking for roasting material.
They take pity on me. Sort of.
“Hold up.” Blaine laughs. “Are you telling us that not only did this chick see you puke, she watched as the other dude was gagging, too?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Haven’t they been paying attention?
“Is she good-looking?”
My long hesitation is the only confirmation these two dipshits need.
“Yeah, she’s never going to let you live that down.”
One of them bites into something, swallows. “It’s a good thing you can’t date anyone, because that’s one woman who isn’t going to want anything to do with your stinky, gag-inducing ass.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Brooks’ implied shrug echoes through the phone. “Just calling it like I see it.”
“No offense,” Blaine adds, “but no chick from your office is ever going to date you now with barf breath, and unfortunately, you haven’t gone out enough lately to meet any other women. Zero dates.”
“Ha ha.” Not funny. I know plenty of women, and hello—who even meets people in real life anymore? That’s what dating apps are for, duh. “I never said I wanted to date anyone from the office.”
They don’t believe me, and I wonder why the hell I called them in the first place. Rookie mistake.
“Bet she could write up a fun little slogan about the puker in office B.” Brooks laughs uproariously, pouncing on the idea.
“Oh, you’re a comedian now?”
“Stating facts, that’s all. If I were her, I’d report you in the company newsletter.” Brooks thinks he’s so goddamn clever.
“You have a company newsletter?” Blaine asks. “We don’t.”
“We have a company handbook,” I tell them.
“What does it say about fraternizing? Not that it matters because no one there wants to date you.”
“Once again—thank you for pointing out the obvious.”
“Hey, that’s what we’re here for.” Blaine is chuckling at his lame jokes. “We’re also here to help you lose the bet, so date away. Let her fall in love with you. Lay on the charm—oh wait, you already laid it in the garbage can in the form of ralphing.”
Brooks cuts in. “Speaking of losing the bet, what I want to know is…is this girl cute? The one who saw you blow chunks.”
I ignore that last part of his sentence, shrugging even though they can’t see me. “I guess so.”
“He guesses so.” Brooks laughs into the phone. “Uh-oh, boys, we know what that means. Another one bites the dust.”
“What did I say? What?” I sound defensive, even to my own ears. “I said I guess so—that’s it. I didn’t call her hot or smokin’ or pretty. I said I guess she’s cute. Big freaking deal.”
“As Shakespeare once said, thou doesn’t protesteth too much, my lady,” Blaine scoffs.
“Uh, first of all, it’s ‘Thou doth protest too much, methinks.’ And second of all, I don’t have time to argue with either of you. I’m not going to lose the bet.”
I’m going to win it.
“You idiots both fucked up the quote,” Brooks interjects bossily. “It’s ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’ Jesus Christ, get it together. Don’t you know anything?”
Blaine sighs. “What’s this mystery girl’s name?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
I feel my face getting red. “She wouldn’t tell me.”
Blaine cackles. “What. A. Ballbuster!”
“Is that what we’re calling it now when a girl is rude and sarcastic? A ballbuster?” I’m getting irritated now, even more so than before. “And do you want to know what else? This is her fault. She told me not to eat the cream cheese but then watched me eat it, then watched me throw up in the waste paper basket.”
“That’s a you problem, not a her problem,” Blaine murmurs. “And please stop using the term waste paper basket—you sound like my grandmother. It’s weird.”
“Do you know how you sound right now, Phillip? You sound like a kid in the back seat of his parents’ minivan, whining to his mom because his sister is looking at him.”
“Well she was looking at me.” And I didn’t like it.
“You problem,” he says again.
“Stop it,” I whine, well aware that it sounds like I’m pouting.
But shit, I’m taking a beating today. First from Paul, then from the bagel that wrecked my insides, now from my friends—who are supposed to be on my side.
Traitors.
Why are they so goddamn infuriating? “My point is, I’m irritated.”
“Because of a girl.”
Yes, one hundred percent. “No, because I puked at work.”
“In front of a girl,” they both say at the same time.
I let out a pfft and shift in my desk chair. The chair I have to eventually evacuate today, inside the office I have to clean out so workers can come in and tear out the flooring tomorrow. “It doesn’t matter—I’ve never bumped into her before today and I doubt I ever will again.”
“Famous. Last. Words.” Brooks’ taunt makes my lip snarl up.
“Why did I bother calling the two of you? I called so you could cheer me up, not make me feel like a pile of shit.”