“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred. Wooo! Man, you are on a roll today.”

Quentin Davidson, Jonathon’s longtime friend and fraternity brother, lifted the weights from Jonathon’s fingers and sat them on the bar.

“Thanks for spotting me,” Jonathon said, rising to sit.

“Anytime, brother,” Quentin responded. “I don’t know why you insist on thanking me every time we come to the gym.”

Jonathon didn’t respond. He stood from the bench, removing his training gloves, and grabbed his bottled water, draining it.

“What’s got you working with such a fierce regimen today?” Quentin asked.

Jonathon glanced at his friend and pulled the hand towel from the bench to blot dry his sweaty face. “I just need the extra routine.”

Quentin folded his muscular arms. “This is about you avoiding Octavia, right?

Jonathon let out a deep breath and walked away toward the locker room. Quentin followed closely with no plans to change the subject. It had been a week since Jonathon had spoken to Octavia. To be precise, a week, three days, fourteen hours and twenty-three minutes. Jonathon had accounted for every second because more than he would like to admit, the separation had been tearing him apart. In front of his locker, Jonathon popped the lock and pulled out a duffle bag, sitting it on the floor. He crouched and unzipped it before acknowledging his lingering friend.

“I’m not avoiding her,” he said.

“What do you call it? I’ve seen her number pop up on your phone, and you’ve ignored it, sometimes, sending her straight to voicemail.”

“I’m busy,” Jonathon retorted quickly.

Quentin rubbed his chin. “Damn man, what she do?”

Jonathon glanced at Quentin then continued to rumble through his bag. “What are you talking about?”

“We all know Octavia can do no wrong in your eyes. So, if you’re avoiding her, she must have done thee unthinkable. What’s up? Whatever it is, I know you want to talk about it.”

Jonathon had talked about it. With himself, over and over again. Jonathon let out a deep breath, and his thoughts tumbled out of his mouth.

“I don’t understand women.”

Quentin cracked a smile. “Who does?” he said.

Jonathon nodded. “I thought I knew her. Our connection is so damn strong it feels life threatening to be apart for so long.” Jonathon paused. He couldn’t believe he had just said that. And by the look on Quentin’s face, his friend couldn’t believe it either.

“Daaaammmnn.” Quentin rubbed his jaw again. “I always knew you wanted her, but boy, it sounds like you’re in love.” Quentin eyed Jonathon closely. “Daaaammmnn,” he said again, “you are.”

Jonathon let out another heavy breath. “Doesn’t matter,” he said.

“You haven’t told her?”

“I’ve shown her,” Jonathon said.

“But you haven’t told her,” Quentin recited.

Jonathon let out another frustrating breath. “She knows,” he said, “but to answer your question, no, I haven’t said those exact words, but she knows I care for her! And still she let that low-life piece of shit back into her life.” Jonathon shook his head. “She couldn’t possibly want this guy.” Feeling his anger rise, Jonathon stood and tossed the duffle bag over his shoulder then proceeded to the showers.

“Let me get this straight,” Quentin said, walking in stride. “There’s some dude trying to take your girl, and you’re just going to let him?”

Jonathon’s jaw ticked, and he turned on Quentin. “I’m not letting a damn thing happen. Octavia’s her own woman, if she wants his trifling ass then…” Jonathon shrugged and turned.

“Oh shit,” Quentin said, putting a balled fist to his lips.

Jonathon turned back with a brow quirked up. “What?” he growled.

“I’ve never seen you like this. The Jonathon I know,” Quentin shook his head. “The Q-dog, I know,” Quentin reiterated, “would never let someone take his girl.” Quentin whistled.

Jonathon’s jaw ticked again. “We’re grown, Q, we’re not still in college. I can’t make someone do anything. It’s up to her, but she’s made her choice.”

“Has she? Because from her incessant phone calls, I’d say she hasn’t made a choice at all, you have.”

Jonathon frowned. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it. Octavia’s been blowing you up, and you’re avoiding her because your feelings are hurt. But damn that. Now’s not the time to be all woe is me, brother. Because you and I both know the longer you put things off, the longer whoever he is gets a chance to woo her. And, if Octavia thinks you’re done with her, she might just let him. Imagine that. Another man in her heart, her mind, her bed—”

Jonathon grabbed Quentin’s thick neck with a massive hand and shoved him into the wall with a hard thud. His nostrils flared as his eyes wild out like that of a crazed animal.

“You should watch your words… brother,” Jonathon warned.

Quentin held his hands up. “This is what you should be doing to him. Not me. The truth hurts, but it’s the truth nonetheless. Quentin pushed at Jonathon’s hand in an attempt to free himself of his fierce chokehold. Jonathon put another fierce hand on him, and the two strong armed each other until Jonathon finally released him. Jonathon stepped back and locked his jaw momentarily. He dropped his head and braced his hands on his hips.

“I love her,” Jonathon said, “so fucking bad my heart aches.” Jonathon pulled his attention back to Quentin.

“Then you know what you have to do,” Quentin said.

Jonathon nodded. “Are you coming over for Thanksgiving Thursday?” he said, changing the subject.

“Hell yeah, you know I’m not about to Miss Norma’s food. Come on now.”

Jonathon nodded. Norma was something like a mother to him. She’d been around as their housekeeper, friend, and all-around guidance counselor at times.

“What about your folks?”

“I’m going there first, but I wouldn’t miss Thanksgiving at your place for anything.”

“Your eagerness to be in attendance wouldn’t be because of my sister, would it?”

“Phoebe? Naw, man, you know I wouldn’t date your sister.” Quentin cleared his throat and avoided Jonathon’s eye contact.

“Are you sure about that?” Jonathon didn’t let up.

“Listen man, you should be focusing on not letting Octavia fall in love with another—”

Jonathon’s hand was back around Quentin’s throat. “You didn’t learn your lesson the first time?”

Quentin grabbed Jonathon’s arm, and this time was able to alleviate his grip.

“That’s the last time Imma let you do that,” Quentin said.

“Yeah aight.” Jonathon watched Quentin walk into the shower room, and never-ending thoughts of Octavia ran like an old school movie reel through his mind. He thought of Steven with an air of disgust, and Quentin’s warning nagged him. There was no way Jonathon would give up on Octavia, and now it was his turn to set out and prove it.