WHEN I LOOKED UP FROM my computer, it was after seven. I got out of my desk chair and slowly straightened, stretching out the kinks in my spine. Jimmy was going to start calling me Old Man if I wasn’t careful. And he’d be right. Sitting so long wasn’t doing my aching lower back any favors.
I wandered into my kitchen to see what I had for dinner, scratching my stomach as I recognized how empty it was. Did I remember to eat lunch today? The fridge’s selection of beer, leftovers, and a jar of pickles made me doubt it. It was time for another grocery delivery. I also needed to menu plan for my dinner with Tamra. Luckily, the leftovers from my last culinary post were enough to scrounge for dinner.
I took out the glass container and opened it, inhaling deeply. Salty goodness. I’d made fried rice with ham and edamame. It was savory and healthy-ish. I smiled as I thought back to my post and Tamra’s response. I had a few others who routinely liked my posts or commented, but none that tried to emulate them like Tamra.
My post included a picture of the finished dish, garnished with cilantro. The green of the edamame and pink of the ham popped against the background of the brown rice. Both colorful and delicious.
Tamra had posted her version in response. It had looked ... edible. That was about the best I could say. The rice appeared crunchy in places and gummy in others. She wasn’t joking about needing cooking lessons.
I popped open a message and attached a picture of my leftovers.
Chase: Enjoying some leftover rice tonight. Looking forward to cooking with you on your next night off. What do you want to make?
Tamra: Sure. Rub it in. How about something simple that I could do again on my own?
Chase: So, grilled cheese?
Tamra: Ha, ha. I’m already capable of that, thank you very much. Something more complicated than cheese and bread.
My idea of a middle ground recipe might be different than hers, but part of me really wanted to impress her.
Chase: Homemade ravioli?
Tamra: Do I look like Julia Child?
Chase: She did say, “In cooking you’ve got to have a what-the-hell attitude.”
Tamra: Then I guess what-the-hell?
My lips tilted in a smile.
Chase: That’s my girl. I’ll bring the ingredients and my pasta attachment.
Tamra: It sounds so dirty when you say it like that.
I laughed at her response, and I couldn’t let it go. She hadn’t even seen my pasta maker attachment yet.
Chase: Oh, it is. LOL
Chapter 16 - Tamra
I was looking forward to my belated birthday dinner with Gina and Vicki. We decided to meet up at a local restaurant for pizza and beer instead of going to their house. Gina’s shifty-eyed muttering about needing to air out their kitchen after Vicki’s last cooking adventure kept me from asking more questions.
I arrived before they did and grabbed us a table in the bar. I was reading an article on my phone when I sensed someone at my elbow.
“Hi,” a male voice said.
“Sorry,” I glanced up with a smile.
“Can I please get a Blue Moon?”
“Hi, my name is Matt. Are you here alone?” he asked. Mid-thirties and handsome in that aging frat boy way, he waited expectantly for me to respond.
I shook my head briefly. “No. Well, I guess I’m here alone now, but I won’t be for long. My friends are on their way. We should have three at our table. Can you please bring us glasses of water for the table too?” I asked.
“Oh. I don’t work here. I just wanted to see if you wanted to join me,” he said, gesturing with his thumb to a seat at the bar where a beer was waiting.
This never happened to me. I glanced down at my outfit. Maybe this is what happens when you go out in something other than scrubs? I inspected Matt more closely. No obvious serial killer signs. Then again, if they were obvious, serial killers wouldn’t be a thing. I tried not to gaze too suspiciously at him as I glanced up and down. He was roughly my age, with short, spiky blond hair, beard stubble, and brown eyes that crinkled at the corners. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Dave Matthews Band T-shirt. Gina would kill me for turning him down, but I wasn’t going to bail on my birthday dinner.
“Uh, thanks, but I’m going to wait for my friends. We’ve got plans. Have a nice night.” I gave him a brief smile.
“Well, can we exchange numbers? Maybe we could hang out another time?”
He was persistent, I’d give him that. I wasn’t sure he was trustworthy, but he was cute. Maybe it was the tiny thrill that he asked or Gina’s coaching on taking risks taking hold that made me brave.
“Sure,” I said, sitting a little straighter.
He pulled out his phone and added my contact. As we were finishing, Gina and Vicki arrived at the table. I could tell from Gina’s dancing eyes that she had caught on to what was happening. I gave her my hardest look in return, and blessedly she kept her mouth shut until after Matt returned to his seat at the bar. My thoughts strayed to Chase. While accepting Matt’s invitation was in line with my goals, I’d much rather see where things led with Chase.
“You’ve been busy,” Gina said.
“Hey guys,” I greeted them both, ignoring her comment. While Gina was petite, Vicki was thin and taller than average, easily overshadowing me and Gina. She moved in to give me a brief hug, and I awkwardly returned it.
“Should we leave?” Gina asked mischievously. “I don’t want to interrupt if your birthday wishes are about to come true here at the bar.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d hide the buzz from exchanging numbers until the day I died. “Not likely.”
“What? He was cute. Looks like you gave him your number.”
“You checking him out?” Vicki asked.
She shrugged. “You know me, Vicki. I love all mythical creatures.”
“Mythical creatures?”
“Unicorns, werewolves, and bar hookups that turn out well.”
They took their seats at our high-top table and we discussed pizza choices while they settled in and our real server arrived to take our drink orders. Over dinner, Vicki entertained us with stories about her classes and students.
“I had two guys who didn’t interact most of the quarter, but any time there was a test, suddenly were seated together like bosom buddies. That was my first clue.” She held up a finger, and I almost expected her to twirl a pretend moustache as she continued her deductions.
“My second was that they both wore shorts to class on test days, but what sealed the deal was their constant glancing at each other’s crotches during the test. So many students have tattoos, that I don’t always notice ink, but as I walked closer, both had their thighs covered in notes and kept inching their shorts up to show them off. Like some kind of bad burlesque show.” Gina and I winced, and she continued. “I wasn’t that interested in getting a closer look, but once I did, it was clear they split the key and inked it on their own legs. And now it’s time to change up my exam again. If they weren’t cheating, it was the world’s most awkward seduction.”
I groaned. “What did they say when you confronted them?”
Vicki shook her head. “Denial after denial. One tried to claim they were tattoos. Spoiler alert: real tattoos don’t smudge like Sharpie.”
“More people would learn from their mistakes if they weren’t so busy denying them,” Gina said.
“Exactly. Lying only made me madder.” Vicki fluttered her hands. “But enough about me. I’m getting worked up again just thinking about it.”
Vicki turned her deceptively placid stare on me. “So, I hear that you’ve got a family wedding coming up,” Vicki said in a deep tone that reminded me of the voice-over actors in a horror movie. It wasn’t quite the knell of doom, but it felt close.
“Yes. It’s a good thing I love my brother, or I’d be trying to give myself food poisoning as a healthy alternative to attending.” My face lightened thinking of Chase. “Luckily I was able to rope a friend into going with me and r
unning interference with all the nosy aunts and uncles.”
“Is your family that bad?” asked Vicki.
I played with the wrapper from my straw, folding and unfolding it in my fingers.
“Relatively speaking, no. They’re not trying to get me hooked on drugs or borrow large sums of money.” I squinted my eyes as I continued, “Though I’ve got my eye on my niece. She keeps trying to hit me up for cash. Then again, she’s five, and a quarter is well within my budget.”
Gina nodded solemnly. “I’ve seen that niece of yours. She’s trouble. I think you’re right to be wary.”
Vicki shook her head at us. “I can tell I’m getting nowhere with you both trolling me. Really, what’s the worst that would happen if you didn’t have a friend to go with you?”
I shrugged. “Meh. Nothing much. I’ll just have the same conversation twenty times. ‘What are you doing? Oh, you deliver babies? Too bad you’re not a doctor. But nursing. Isn’t that nice. Don’t you want to have some kids of your own? Better get on that. You’re not getting any younger. Say, isn’t Nick younger than you? How old are you now, anyway? Over thirty? Man, better find a husband.’ And I’ll wish, yet again, for that bout of food poisoning. Lying on the cold, slightly grimy tile floor of a public bathroom feeling like I’m going to die would be more pleasant than the ongoing inquisition.”
Gina shuddered delicately at my description. “Don’t joke about food poisoning.”
Vicki looked up at the ceiling before dropping her gaze to mine. “I undercook the chicken, one time ... As brilliant as food poisoning is as a solution, can’t you tell them to shove off?”
“We Shaws are next-level passive-aggressive. I’d say you’d find us next to that entry in the dictionary, but if anyone from my family saw it first, they’d rip the page out and cluck their tongue in pity that the printer did such a poor-quality job. Direct confrontation is not how we roll. My parents left the state for years to avoid their relatives. Maybe also their own kids. No one wants to rock the boat now that they’re finally gracing us with a visit.”
“Is there a less confrontational way to get them off of your back?” she pressed.
I nodded emphatically. “Yes. And I’ve already found it. Chase is going with me as my beard.”
“Honey, I’m pretty sure you’re straight,” Gina chided me gently. “Don’t go throwing around things you don’t mean.”
“I’m sorry.” That was tactless, and I was kicking myself. “I shouldn’t joke, I know it’s not funny when you’ve been there trying to come out to family. I just mean that he’s giving me a little air cover.”
Vicki and Gina accepted my apology with grace, which is part of why I loved them both. They were crazy supportive and low drama to hang out with, even when I made an ass of myself.
“Chase will be a good distraction. Whether or not people think we’re dating, I honestly don’t care, but hopefully it will stem the worst of the comments.”
Gina huffed. “Well, you’d better drink a lot, so they don’t ask if you’re pregnant.”
I laughed. “There’s a reason we’re friends.”
Gina grinned back at me.
“Tell us more about Chase,” Vicki probed. “What kind of guy writes romance novels?”
“Do I detect a hint of attitude there, Judgey Judy? Have you ever read a Virginia Rothman book? They’re really good. Strong women, great friendships, and well-developed characters. You might like them,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah, but what kind of guy writes romance novels? What’s he like?” she pushed.
I gusted out a breath. “I don’t know. He’s got two legs and a face. What appears to be a human-shaped male body. He cooks like a dream. He’s kept his calm and hasn’t sprinted from the building anytime I talk about what I do at work or get into the gore of labor and delivery. He actually seems interested. Honestly, I think he is interested, but possibly because he considers me research.”
It was entirely possible that my growing feelings for Chase were one-sided. Revealing even this much to Gina and Vicki made my gut clench, but it was time to face the truth before I made a mistake. I was developing a massive crush on Chase.
“Hmm ...” Gina murmured. “Has he acted interested in something more than friendship?” she asked.
I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t think so. I’m more attuned to vital signs than I am to flirting ones.”
Vicki leaned forward. “Does he lean into your body space when you talk?”
I tilted my head. “Maybe? I guess he scooted closer to me at the dinner table the other night. But it may have been to refill my glass of wine.”
Gina took her turn. “Ooh, so is he attentive to your needs? Does he notice if you need more wine or something’s not right?”
My head tilted the other direction. “Kind of. He asked if I had any food allergies, so I guess that counts?”
Vicki looked me deeply in the eyes. “Okay. Truth time. Does he make you tingle?”
My lips turned up at her phrasing. “He’s very distracting. And he gives good hugs.” Thinking of his warm body pressed against mine sent a shiver down my spine.
“Okay, that’s a start. We can work with that,” Gina said, rubbing her hands together.
Vicki peered at me more closely. “You still don’t seem convinced of his romantic potential.”
“It’s not the potential that I have concerns about,” I acknowledged. “It’s the dishonesty.”
Saying it aloud should have made it feel more real. A concrete reason to push my feelings for Chase away. But the words felt empty.
Vicki appeared affronted on my behalf. “Has he lied to you?”
I bit my lip. He hadn’t. He’d gone out of his way to abandon his pen name before we met. Even at the risk of me exposing him. He’d trusted me. Taken a leap of faith. So why was I stumbling on mine?
“Vicki. He’s lied to everybody. He’s not a woman. I don’t know if there will be backlash in Romancelandia if that comes out or not. As a fan, it doesn’t feel great to be lied to.”
“But has he been personally dishonest with you?” she asked. “Or did he choose an online identity that would protect his privacy? A lot of people in different careers choose to do the same. It doesn’t make them bad people, just private.”
My stomach settled as her words sank in.
I struggled to find the right words to express my discomfort. “Part of me feels complicit. I know the truth. I’m part of the lie now.”
Finally putting the feeling into words was freeing.
“I’m not going to tell you how you feel, but I’d encourage you to listen to your heart and get to know him better before you write off the possibility of a relationship. Keeping a friend’s confidence and privacy isn’t the same as being responsible for their choices.”
I nodded. Chase’s deception hadn’t been directed at me. He didn’t make any attempts to maintain it in real life. Gamers used avatars instead of sharing their real identities, and after reading some of the comments on various author’s social media posts, part of me could understand the desire for anonymity. It probably only took one viral post claiming an author was a harpy or trollop for writing about sex to rethink sharing your real identity on social media.
I fell into bed exhausted that night, but my mind was still spinning thinking about Chase. Having Chase with me at Nick’s wedding would make the day more tolerable. But I still wasn’t sure how I felt about him beyond friendship. Liar. Thoughts of dancing for Chase, feeling his hot gaze on me as I rolled my hips, seducing him, had kept my muscles liquid and warm long after our cooldown in class. I wanted to help him do all kinds of “research.”
More than the raw attraction I worried was one-sided, I liked Chase’s sense of humor. It was easy to forget we hadn’t known each other for long, because no subject felt taboo when we talked. He didn’t judge. Just listened. Focused on me. Surely the novelty of that would wear off, but for now I was basking in his attention.
Did Chas
e just feel friendship for me or something more? I had time to figure that out. See if he wanted more than awkward hugs and dirty jokes. I couldn’t exactly ask if he fantasized about me the way I thought about him when I was dancing. My dirty daydreams, at least for now, had to remain a secret.
We were trading favors. Not fantasies.
Chapter 17 - Chase
In the week leading up to my dinner plans with Tamra, I couldn’t resist texting her a few times to get an idea of what I needed for the wedding.
Chase: What’s the dress code for this wedding? Do I need a tux?
Tamra: Um. YES! If you’re offering, that is. To be perfectly honest, the only people in tuxes will probably be in the wedding party. You’d be fine in slacks and a shirt. BUT I always wanted to go out with James Bond.
I huffed out a laugh. James Bond. I wish. There’s a fantasy I’ve had a time or ten. Totally worth the tux rental if she’d call me 007 for the evening. I didn’t even care that I’d stick out like a wedding party wannabe.
Chase: Wow. You know how to stroke a guy’s ego. I will gladly be your Bond. What are you wearing?
I bit my lip at the cheesy line, but I figured it was at least mildly appropriate for the situation. I hadn’t crossed over into creeper territory. Yet.
Tamra: Something with fabric. Not exactly sure yet, I haven’t found anything.
My fingers flew furiously as I typed my response. She could have her Bond fantasies and hopefully she’d let me rock my own My Fair Lady fantasies in return.
Chase: Might I suggest a shopping trip? I hear they do wonders for the dressless state. I’d be willing to go with you. Mr. Higgins style. Or a la Tan. But let’s be honest, my verbal discourse is more reminiscent of Jonathan; sadly, I know nada about hair.
Tamra: Um. What?
I smiled at her response. The disbelief was clear, and I could understand. Jimmy’s frequent complaint was that there was no oxygen in malls, yet I was volunteering for asphyxiation. It was a Dude Code failure, but I couldn’t resist the lure of spending more time with Tamra. In a mall, in the hall, I’d be at her beck and call. There was a dirty Dr. Seuss rhyme in there somewhere. I resisted the temptation to text her my verse. I doubt she’d consider the blood rushing to my groin at the thought of watching her dress up for me personal growth.
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