Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Twenty-Five: Manic Pixie Menace

"A toast to Zoe." Mark raised his beer can. "May it rain all of next week in Ibiza, so we won't be insanely jealous when you come back."

"Hey!" Mock indignation in Zoe's tone and countenance, betrayed by the smile still on her lips. "How about it rains here while there's nothing but glorious sunshine there, and I come back from my vacation sporting an awesome tan while you're all still dripping wet?"

"Hear, hear," Dan agreed, voice filled with mischief. "May you come back with an awesome tan while we're here waiting for you dripping wet."

Both Zoe and Mark choked on their beers; Josh and Sam shared a moment of glee that they hadn't been drinking anything when Dan made his ill-advised toast. The man in question didn't look sorry in the slightest.

Josh was glad he'd decided to stay another night at Mark's. With the gang all there, he was sure there would be no sequel to the lecture he'd been given the night before, and the relaxed mood was a welcome contrast to the charged atmosphere between Emery and himself that would have been waiting for him at home. That had been waiting for him at home for the half an hour it took him to pack. Tomorrow he'd be going to his new client straight from Mark's, and hopefully be gone for three to six months.

"Well, guys," Zoe said, checking her phone, "four am. Time for me to call an Uber. I need to be at JFK three hours before the flight, but I'm going for four. Better safe than sorry!"

A chorus of well wishes followed her announcement, as if she were going away for a month and not a week, Josh thought with an internal eyeroll. Then caught himself.

This was exactly what Mark had called him out for yesterday, wasn't it? This distance. 'Any one of my friends would be your friend if you'd let them, but you lock people perpetually in acquaintance stage,' Mark had said.

"No need to call an Uber — I can drive you," he heard himself say, and then found he couldn't fault himself for it. He wasn't tired, and would be happy to drive her to the airport. Maybe that could be a first step in coming out of the shell he hadn't known he hid inside.

Zoe turned slightly shocked eyes on him. "Are you sure? It's late, and you totally don't have to."

Mark exchanged a knowing, approving glance with him. "This inveterate driver? I'll bet you actual money he's chomping at the bit to get behind the wheel."

"Guilty as charged, sir," he admitted with a bow.

His best friend wasn't wrong. Josh loved the feel of the steering wheel beneath his fingers, the stick shift that meant he was in control of the entire experience. Mark was always on his case about getting rid of the car, but the weight of that particular lecture was lessened by the car Mark also owned; at least Josh didn't nearly run over his would-be significant others. Still, he knew the arguments by heart — more expensive than it was worth, Josh barely had the chance to use it with his job, not environmentally-friendly, the works. Josh didn't care. He didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't do drugs, had long stints where he couldn't even take the time to go to the movies, or a concert, or a play. The absence of all those expensive habits made him feel completely justified in his decision. And with how little he got to drive it, it'd probably be less environmentally friendly to get rid of it. Or so he told himself.

"In that case, you're on," Zoe declared, shouldering one of her bags as Josh moved to grab the other one.

"So," he began once they were on their way, awkwardly attempting conversation, "Ibiza. Is anyone meeting you there?"

"Just the beach, the clubs and myself. I think I've earned some quality time with myself with how hard I've been working. Myself and whoever I happen to find there, I mean."