Dawsey had made his way to Sidney’s apartment more times than he could count - and before that, his dorm room and childhood home. The steps to Sidney’s front door had met the sole of Dawsey’s feet time and time again, yet never with this much trepidation.
Every time he told himself to turn around and try again another time, in the new year, he heard Daniela’s voice in the back of his head, encouraging him to push forward. His best friend - the one that existed in his head and the practical goddess that New York was fortunate enough to have grace its filthy streets - thought Dawsey was far braver than he actually was. She’d be disappointed to find him, standing in the stairwell of the familiar apartment building, visibly trembling.
He’d used his spare key to get into the building itself instead of buzzing up and having to hear the inevitable rejection in Sidney’s voice when he realised who it was. He could use that very key now to unlock Sidney’s apartment and walk in, the same he’d always done when he showed up to watch the Knicks play on TV, bottle of wine in his other hand. Only, he knew that was a privilege that had most definitely been rescinded now. Even haunting the hallway of Sidney’s building seemed like a complete violation.
But he had to talk to him.
Lauren was out, ringing in the New Year with her friends, and Evie had clamoured to watch the ball drop with Carrie and Dexter. Left to his own devices, Dawsey had soon found himself walking the streets alone like a particularly forlorn Billy Crystal on the busiest night of the year. Until he’d made the idiotic decision to come and talk to Sidney.
It had been too long since they’d spoken and Dawsey knew that was mostly his fault. He’d tried to take a day or two to process everything after That Night. But within 48 hours his Instagram feed had been assaulted with suggestive images of Sidney with other men. Dale, the theology professor who looked a bit like a husky, and that one infuriatingly attractive skeletal-looking man that Dawsey knew just by looking at him was much taller than himself.
He’d felt a nightmarish surge of jealousy roll through him and the only thing that had broken through was a heartbreaking sort of clarity. It was clear that after what had transpired, Dawsey and Sidney certainly both liked men a lot more than the other had presumed (although Dawsey thought back to Sidney’s attack far more than his friend probably thought he did), but while Sidney had therefore taken this as a go-ahead to flaunt just how much he was interested in the male form, all it had really done for Dawsey was help him realise how much he loved Sidney. Only Sidney, really.
Sidney who, at that moment, rounded the banister and had started down the flight of stairs Dawsey was standing stock-still on. Probably looking like some sort of creep.
“Sid…” His voice caught in his throat and he swallowed roughly. “Hi.”