by Cassie Mae
The silence stretches between us, and she leans back and gazes at the open night sky. Her finger pushes the straw in her water glass around and around, up and down, and I wonder if she’s truly comfortable with the lack of conversation or if she’s in deep thought and speaking would only ruin the moment.
Then, I swear to God, the bush behind her coughs.
“You hear that?” I ask. She doesn’t drop her gaze from the sky.
“Hmm?”
“I think that bush just coughed.”
She lets out a small laugh. “That’d be quite the party trick.”
Her shoulders lift and fall in a contented sigh, and she closes her eyes as the frosty wind rushes over our table. I grab at everything to keep it from blowing over. I really hate eating outside.
Rian doesn’t seem cold or uncomfortable. She could be bored. I thought we were killing it for a minute there. I mean, I wasn’t feeling fireworks exactly, but at least there were smiles, a back-and-forth, conversation.
This is what I like about Theresa. Because when there isn’t conversation, she’d still be talking, even if it was to herself. I don’t like silence. And this silence is going to murder me slowly, painfully, leaving me dead with an awkward look on my face.
“Why’d you bid on me?” I blurt out, punctuating the aching silence. Her eyes blink down to mine and she stops playing with her straw.
“You’re cute.”
“Lie,” I say with a small laugh, running a thumb over the label on my beer bottle. I may be cute—unfortunately I’ve been told “cute” over “sexy” more times than not—but no one would spend four grand on cute.
“Truth.” She pauses, but at least keeps her eyes on me. “But maybe not the entire truth.”
“What’s the entire truth?”
“Have you ever stripped before?” she asks.
I chuckle. “Aren’t you supposed to answer my question first?”
“Because I could tell that you deal with stage fright.”
My eyebrows rise. “Is it that obvious?”
She shakes her head. “Only to people paying attention. You were all over the place, which was great, but once the bid got really high, you focused on one woman.” She looks down at the table. “A woman, I might add, who wasn’t putting a single dime on you.”
Theresa’s wide eyes, obvious flush, and amused shock flash through my mind. The enraptured look she gave me would’ve snagged the attention of any bachelor up there.
“Could you blame me?” I tell Rian honestly, shaking my head at the table.
“Not at all.” The corner of her mouth tilts upward. “Of course you danced for her. You enjoyed the attention.”
“And that’s an attractive quality?”
“Yes,” she says without missing a beat. “I think you enjoyed the attention so much because you don’t get a lot of it. And that’s a damn shame.”
I actually look down at my body to see if I am literally transparent—if I have all my issues laid out for everyone to see.
“You are one hell of a good guesser.”
She grins as the waiter plops our food in front of us. She’s ordered a gooey-looking something for me to try. When the waiter leaves we swap plates, even though my mouth’s watering just from the smell of the steak.
“What is this?” I ask, poking at it with my fork.
“Seafood risotto.” She looks at it longingly. “I get at least one bite.”
“If you reciprocate.” I push my fork at her steak, and her arm hits mine as she reaches for the gooey rice. We each take our one bite, and I let the meat sit in my mouth for a bit, hoping I can make every bite of my food taste like this one.
“Okay, it’s not bad,” she says after her first taste of the steak.
“Bullshit,” I say. “It’s the best thing at this place.”
She rolls her eyes but takes another bite. Something that feels a lot like victory bubbles up in my chest.
But the risotto isn’t that bad either.
—
We eat for a few seconds—or minutes; who the hell knows—in silence. The coughing bush behind her rustles. A clink of her fork sends my eyes up to meet hers, and I realize she is staring right at me. Maybe through me.
“Why are you a bachelor?” she asks.
“Huh?”
“You’re in your late twenties, right? No serious girlfriend or prospects?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Truth.” She sets her fork down and locks her fingers under her chin. “So…why not?”
“Haven’t met the right girl, I guess.”
“Bullshit.” She shakes her head. “Really, you should stop with the lies, because you’re no good at them.”
I didn’t even know I was lying. But I am. It’s not that I haven’t met the right girl; it’s because I’m still hung up on one.
“You sure you want the truth?” I ask. “Might ruin this.”
“I think I already know the truth. I just want you to say it.”
“Why?”
“Because it might help. First step on the road to recovery: admit there is a problem.” Her hands drop to her lap. “So, Alex with a c, what’s the problem?”
I take another bite just to avoid saying it. It will ruin this night, won’t it? Or will it help? Rian looks at me expectantly, and I can see that this girl could really know me and want me. That’s enough, right? That’s what I’m missing right now.
So I swallow. Then gulp again to make sure my voice doesn’t sound like there’s a frog in my throat.
“I’m in love.”
Chapter 5
PRESENT DAY
Rian said that she already knew, but by the look on her face, I don’t think she did.
“Shit. I ruined it.”
She quickly shakes her head. “No, no. I was thinking something along those lines, I was just taken aback by how you phrased it.”
“Is there another way?”
She shrugs, and I bite back an apology. She asked me to admit it, so I did. I’m not going to apologize for that.
“So who is she?” she asks, then gives me a slow grin. “Don’t tell me she’s your best friend.”
“Is that bad?”
Her small nose wrinkles up and she takes another bite of her steak. “It’s just so…normal.” She swallows. “Unrequited love is the most overused trope.”
Boy, do I agree with that. But it’s not my fault it’s one-sided. “Well, in my defense, best friend and love come hand in hand.” I point my beer at her. “You love your best friend, don’t you?”
“I would if I had one, yes. But you said in love. That’s different.”
“You don’t have a best friend?”
“It’s the age-old question, isn’t it?” She goes on like she didn’t hear me at all. “Can you be just friends with a person of the opposite sex? Assuming that you are attracted to the opposite sex.”
I think of Lizzie and immediately answer, “Yes.”
“You have other female friends?”
“I do.”
“So what makes this one different? Availability?”
“Even when she wasn’t single, I still…” I let the thought drift off into oblivion. When I first met Theresa she was dating someone. I was friends with her for years before I got the full story about her and her boyfriend, and I fell in love with her while she was with him. Granted, I had no idea just how messed-up that situation was.
“Hmm…So what came first?”
I gulp down the food in my mouth. “What do you mean?”
“Were you friends first?” she says, forking up a juicy slice of steak. “Or did you like her before that?”
I shake my head. “I don’t remember. It all blends. I like her because she’s my friend, but she’s my friend because I like her.”
She points the empty fork at me. “You said ‘like.’ ”
“You said ‘like.’ ”
“I meant you said ‘like’ as in the present tense.”
&
nbsp; I don’t say anything. I also said “love” in the present tense.
She takes a sip of her beer, then sets it down, eyeing the modern design on the tablecloth. “I get it, you know. I’ve been bitten by the love bug a few times.”
“How’d you get over it?” She seems so put together. Comfortable and casual, not off her game, and definitely not as knotted up as I feel.
“Easy. When a guy I loved didn’t love me back, I didn’t see him anymore. Distance made me wonder if I ever loved him in the first place.” She flicks her gaze up. “How much distance do you have?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “None.”
“There’s your problem.” She stabs another piece of steak and slides it between her teeth. “How often do you see her?”
“Every day.”
“Every day?”
I nod. “Just about.”
Her small fingers wrap around her beer. “You co-workers?”
“No.”
“Roommates?”
“Not currently.” We were roommates for about a week. Theresa’s air-conditioning was on the fritz and I offered her a place to bunk. I refused to let her in my room, partly because it’d been a running joke with us that she’d known me for so long and had never seen my bedroom, but mostly because having her scent in my sheets and pillow would’ve been a nightly torture once her AC was fixed and I was once again living alone.
Rian throws her arms out in an amused and hilarious gesture that breaks the small amount of tension in the air. “Then why the hell would you see her every day?”
I chuckle, completely understanding her surprise. I don’t get why I see Theresa every day either. It’s like pleasure and torture all mixed together, and I never know which will win out on any given day. But I still dive in because I’m hoping for the one day that there is absolutely no torture and it’s all just pleasure.
“I can’t help it, I guess.”
“Did you see her today?”
Today she was wearing that knockout dress. That knockout smile. Today she took my breath away like always, but also a little bit differently too. Because I think…I mean, I’m pretty damn sure that I took her breath away too. I saw her eyes while I was dancing, and though her expression was amused and surprised, she also looked mesmerized. And I know it wasn’t just me, since Rian said she noticed it too.
“Wow,” Rian says before I can spit out an answer. “You don’t even have to say it.” She circles a finger at my heated face. “It’s just all right here.”
“Sorry,” I say, finally giving her that apology. Damn it, this was supposed to be a chance for me to get romantic with her, not fantasize over something that, in Jace’s very true words, isn’t going to happen.
“Forgive me for asking,” she says, folding her arms on the table. “But why volunteer for a bachelor auction when your heart is so obviously taken?”
“It’s not taken,” I tell her honestly. “I may have thrown it out there, but she didn’t take it.”
“Is that why, then? Or is it something else?”
I consider lying to her. Truth is, I did it because Theresa asked me to. But I’m done talking about Theresa. Rian said distance is what makes getting over someone easy. And while creating physical distance is doable, I’m not sure I can force my thoughts to create the emotional distance I need.
So I find another answer that is also the truth.
“Because I don’t want to be in love anymore. I want to find it…somewhere else.” I shake my head and look her in the eye. “Does that make me a jackass?”
She shakes her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Good.”
I grin, and she grins back, toying with her fork, barely touching her food anymore. She keeps hold of my eyes, and I let my gaze drop, not yet ready to look at someone so intently. The coughing bush next to us rustles; probably the wind again.
“Can I collect early?” she asks, then wets her thin lips.
“Huh?”
“My midnight kiss. I want it now.”
Figures—I ruined it. She’ll collect the kiss, then we’ll go our separate ways. Even when I try to move on, I fail at it.
“You want to see if you can get your money back?” I ask, plucking my napkin from my lap, wiping my mouth, then placing it on the table.
“Hell no.” She laughs, and her eyes narrow into seductive slits. “I want to help you ‘find it’ somewhere else.”
“You really want to kiss me after all this?” I say, somewhat chuckling at my pathetic, broken heart. She lifts one shoulder and bats a set of naturally long eyelashes.
“I kinda like you.”
“I’m tempted to say bullshit, but I think we’re done playing that game.”
“We are.” She sets her napkin down and pushes up out of her seat. “Like you said, you don’t remember what came first, friendship or attraction. I’m willing to like you based on your sex appeal.”
My breath washes from my lungs and I let my gaze drift to her open jacket, my heart suddenly laden with a sense of loss. “You want to help me move on, then?” I ask, voicing what I thought I wanted to happen—what I need to happen.
She tilts an eyebrow upward and gives me a wicked grin that makes the risotto in my stomach churn.
“I’m up for the challenge.”
She sets her hand on the center of the table, leaning in; I can feel her breath on my face. I should meet her halfway, close the distance between us, take advantage of the opportunity so plainly presented to me. Her eyes are closed, but mine are searching her face, wondering if this is the face of the woman who will erase the face of the woman I’ve wanted for nearly half a decade. I thought that if I ever met that woman, it would be obvious; there would be no question in my mind. That Theresa would be a distant memory, a fond one, not one riddled with pain. Maybe that’s all a load, because I’ve met several women and none of them fit that bill.
But Rian is willing to try, and I search deep inside me for red-blooded male desire. My eyes close, and I find the back of her neck with my palm. Suddenly she jerks under my hand and lets out a tiny squeak as if she’s falling. And something very wet and gooey lands in my lap.
“Shit, shit,” I say, standing upright too fast. My head slams into Rian’s nose, and her neck flies back. Every article of food that had been on the table is now on the ground, minus the seafood risotto, which conveniently found its way into my lap.
“Did I do that?” she says from behind the hand covering her nose. I resist rubbing my throbbing head and tilt her chin up to inspect her face. No blood, thank heavens.
“Wasn’t me,” I say with a laugh, staring at the food that is now decorating my lower half. She must’ve gotten caught on the tablecloth somewhere, or knocked over one thing, causing a domino effect. A riptide of laughter rolls out from me as I wave the waiter over. I see her smile, her fingers still on her nose. A small giggle pops out, and she reaches for me with her free hand. “Come on. I know a good place to get cleaned up.”
18 MONTHS, 18 DAYS AGO
SATURDAY 10:23 A.M.
You remember when we invented a word for an unknown stain on your jeans? Well, there’s a mystery mark on my jeans.
SUNDAY 2:59 P.M.
Walking Dead tonight!!!! You on? I have a feeling that there will be no casualties tonight. Wanna take me up on that bet?
MONDAY 7:18 A.M.
Petitioning for work to start at eleven on Mondays. Just text back your name, or even just a letter, to support this very important cause.
MONDAY 5:52 P.M.
You still at work? Want me to pick you up some dinner?
WEDNESDAY 9:42 P.M.
I’ll take Radio Silence for two hundred, Alec.
WEDNESDAY 11:48 P.M.
*Goodnight sweetheart, well, it’s time to go…(do do dee do)* I really did sing that. And if you haven’t seen Three Men and a Baby, that’s what we’re watching next movie night.
FRIDAY 12:22 P.M.
It was strawberry frosting! The
source of the mystery mark source has been found. PS…there’s cake in my fridge.
FRIDAY 8:08 P.M.
It’s been over a week since your audition and I haven’t heard from you. I know you’re alive, so I’m not too worried. (Not about your well-being, anyway. You bet your ass I’m worried about what the hell’s going on.) At least tell me if you got the part.
FRIDAY 11:56 P.M.
*crickets chirping*
SATURDAY 2:00 A.M.
It’s weird not talking to you. Or seeing you. But I get it. I’ll be here when you’re ready.
SATURDAY 3:02 A.M.
Already breaking my promise…but just heard Landon and Liz are engaged! Party for them tonight. I’ll let you know when and where as soon as I figure it out. But for now…sweet, sweet sleep.
I let my phone slip out of my hand and onto the couch, where I’ve parked my ass all night. Damn it. I thought going cold turkey from Theresa would make it easier for me to get over my proclamation (and swift rejection) of love. Instead I’ve turned into the walking dead myself.
I put a foot up on my crowded and messy coffee table and flick through my recorded shows. Sleep would be nice, but it’s not happening. Every night I lie down and think about how she might’ve been next to me if things had gone differently.
Now that Landon proposed (I knew that was inevitable, but I didn’t think it was going down tonight), I can kiss that cold turkey idea goodbye and throw it out the window with the rest of my dumbass ideas. Because I know I’ll be Landon’s best man, Theresa’s going to be the maid of honor, and we’ll all have to act like everything is fine because no one even knows about the two of us.
Not that there ever was a “two of us.”
I reach for my beer, but the bottle’s already empty.
Chapter 6
PRESENT DAY
“You can answer that,” Rian says, nodding at my constantly vibrating (and still very rice-covered) jeans. My phone’s been going off nearly the entire time we’ve been walking. I don’t know where she’s taking me, but this is the same stretch of sidewalk that I took every night when I was performing in Arsenic and Old Lace. It was a fun one. Opening night had a few critics in the audience and they gave me great reviews…so great, in fact, that my name was whispered and tossed around between some of the big-rig Broadway guys. But of course, with my luck, the night they came to see me I came down with a wicked cold and couldn’t hit the F5. My understudy stepped in, and those whispers disappeared into oblivion.
