“Been there, done that.” He shrugs. “The loneliness I feel can’t be fixed with that,” he chuckles.

I frown. “Wait, you’re lonely? Like actually? I meant like lonely on a particular night, I didn’t mean like…James, really?” My heart hurts hearing this. I want to wrap him in a hug and shield him from any pain and loneliness he’s ever felt.

He sits up. “Gab, it’s no big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal. How are you lonely? You’ve got tons of friends and you’re likable and charming and—”

“None of that matters at the end of the day,” he interrupts. “I mean friends are important, don’t get me wrong but this apartment is huge and it would be nice to come home to someone at the end of the day.”

“Oh my God.” I put my hands over my eyes. “And you say you spend all your time with me which means you’ll never meet someone! I am so sorry. When we get back, I’ll stop inviting myself over. You need to get out there.”

“No, Gab. I’m not agreeing to that. Spending time with you is what keeps me sane. Well…sometimes.” He laughs.

I don’t understand the ominous comment. “I drive you insane?”

“Yeah Gabrielle, you do.” There he goes using my full name again.

“How?”

“Because—” He stops. “Never mind. It’s just because I worry about you.”

Oh. My. God. He’s lying to me.

“You’re lying.” I hadn’t meant to call him out on it because it was obvious he did not want to tell me the truth but the words slipped out easily. Thanks a lot, Jameson.

“What?”

“You’re lying. It’s not because you worry about me.”

“Yes, it is. You think I don’t worry about you?”

“I’m not saying you’re lying about that; I’m saying that’s not why I drive you insane.”

He rubs his forehead and shakes his head. “Gab, can we not do this now?”

“Do what?”

His blue eyes narrow and suddenly look darker than usual. “This whole thing where you don’t let things go and berate me into telling you something?”

“I just want to know. You’re the one who said we tell each other everything.”

“And you tell me everything?” he asks and my heart begins to pound in my chest.

Lie.

“Of course, I do.”

He snorts in response. “I don’t believe you.”

Lie better.

I shrug. “Believe whatever you want.” I take another bite of pizza, in desperate need to back pedal out of this conversation that alcohol pushed me into. “I tell you everything.”