Clusterfuck

ix

"Carl, I—I need to take a short break," Toby tells him after the happy couple departs, the bell above the door jingling cheerily in their wake. "I just—need some air."

"No problem, kiddo."

Yes problem, kiddo, Toby thinks to himself among the jumble of other thoughts swirling around in his head, nearly jumping over the counter so as to get outside faster. Big fucking problem, in fact.

Toby assumes they've already gotten in the car—together, so they could go home together, eat dinner together (if they haven't already), sleep together (one way or another, but it's not Toby's business) and be a normal fucking couple together—and leans back against the rough brick wall of the store, rubbing his face with his hands, eyes wide open, unyielding to the piercing wind.

It's so dark outside, and it's not even nine yet. And it's cold as hell, probably in the teens or twenties, and Toby is only wearing a light fleece sweater over his work shirt. But neither of those things are things that Toby exactly gives a shit about in this moment.

That is, until his voice rings out in the night, ringing in his ears, and suddenly all he wants to do is go back inside and report to Carl just how cold and dark it is right now.

"Toby," Leo says, jogging up to him. "Let me—let me—"

"No."

Toby starts back toward the door, but Leo wraps a freezing hand around his wrist. "Wait, please, let me just—"

"Damn it, let go of me!" Toby growls, yanking his arm away. "I don't want to talk to you, okay?"

"Let me explain."

"Why should I?"

"Because—because you don't get it."

"I think I get it just fucking fine. I'm not as stupid as I might look, Leo."

"You're not—I didn't say—"

Toby throws his hands up, cutting Leo off. He glances around the parking lot to, a, check for passersby that might be overhearing their conversation, and b, scan for her. "Where's your girlfriend parked?" he asks. "I'm sure she's waiting on you. I wouldn't want to interrupt your plans for the rest of the night."

"I-I told her I'd catch up with her," Leo says. "I'll—I'll catch the bus home. Or, fuck, I'll run home. I just need you to listen to me."

"You lied to me."

"I didn't—"

"Yes you did, oh my God," Toby groans, raking his fingers through his hair. "You told me you were single."

"I—"

"You lied."

"No—just let me speak, for fuck's sake!" Leo says, his hands swinging wildly in unidentifiable gestures. "I told you that because I was. I mean, I at least thought I was—"

"How the hell do you think you're single?" Toby demands. "You either have a girlfriend or you don't. It just sounds like you're resorting to ridiculous excuses—"

"No, I'm not," Leo insists, but that doesn't alleviate the unbearable stench of pure bullshit wafting through Toby's nose at the moment. "Look, we'd just gotten into a fight, and I thought that was the end of our relationship. Genuinely, I thought we'd broken up. But last night, she came over to my place, and—"

"And apologized after crying and eating a pint of ice cream and gathering the courage to talk to you," Toby finishes, an intentional bite to his words. "I fucking know. I suggested she try the mint chocolate chip."