Kit Castille didn't want to be one of the girls who worshiped Matthew Rondillo in college. She doesn't want to be one of the girls in his little black book now. But she gave her heart to Matthew all those years ago. Driven by revenge, she's on a mis...
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"Of course, it means something to you," Tristan says. "You're a girl." I must look even more confused because Tristan takes a deep breath, walks towards me behind the counter and refills my glass.
"Look, Kit. He's a guy. Even if he tells you how much he likes you, that doesn't mean he's thinking about you every minute of every day. And just to be clear, if he does think about you, that line doesn't guarantee that he's thinking of taking whatever it is you guys have into a relationship, the kind that Hallmark cards are printed for, the kind that involves meeting the parents, you know, those things."
Aside from his sense of humor, this brutal honesty is probably why Tristan and I remained friends all these years. He knows when to pat me on the back, when to fluff my ego and when to break my rose-colored glasses. I sip my wine, prompting him to talk more. I do need a guy's perspective on this. While Tristan and Matthew are two, very different guys, they are both straight men. Biologically speaking, at least, they are probably wired the same.
"Not until he explicitly asks you to be his girlfriend, don't assume," he adds. "It's safer and saner that way. Or..."
He hesitates for a while. "Or what?" I prod.
"Or maybe you both just needed an outlet," he says, measuring his words carefully. "You may not want revenge but obviously, you need closure. And I think he needs an ego-booster."
"You think I boost his ego?"
He sighs. "You may not be aware of this but your eyes glaze over when you talk about him," Tristan explains. "Normally, I don't notice these things but I've known you a long time so yeah, I notice."
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"It's like the look you get when I give you free food. He calls you when he's all fucked up. You make him feel better. Honestly, I don't blame him for needing that kind of reassurance because it's nice, but that doesn't mean he's in love with you or something. The smart thing to do is to get out now while you still can. After all, this is the second time the same asshole is mistreating you."
I sit there, probably looking more dumbfounded than ever. I take a sip of my red wine. Tristan shrugs and walks to the back kitchen, probably to get some food so my eyes will glaze over. Honestly, I understand perfectly what he means. It's the most logical explanation to what has been going on between Matthew and me in the last few months.
