by Rachel Jonas
There goes that sensation again. The one where it feels like my stomach’s bottoming out. It comes from feeling like I live in two worlds and they’ve just collided.
“Actually, I moved in with a friend a couple days ago. My parents decided to leave the country for a bit, and I stayed behind.”
It feels strange dumbing that entire fiasco down to so few words, but I’m not in the mood to rehash the entire, painful ordeal.
“Hm. Well, I’m sure it’ll be fun,” he says with a smile. “Is this your friend Blue?”
My stomach churns again. “Nope. Dane.” I say it quickly, leaving little room for my words and tone to be analyzed.
He’s seen Dane before. Granted, it was only through pics of us I posted on social media, but it was enough to make him ask questions about the nature of the relationship early on. Nothing that felt too possessive, just him wanting clarity as to whether Dane and I were involved or just friends. Only, even after I explained that we’d been tight since sixth grade, I sensed his lingering suspicion, his discomfort with the idea of me being close friends with a guy.
It’s always evident in the slight changes in his expression whenever I talk about Dane, or how he quickly rushes off the phone when he happens to call while Dane and I are hanging out. Basically, I know he subscribes to the same theory as everyone else.
That there’s absolutely no way a guy and a girl can keep a relationship clean without lines getting crossed. Guess we’ll just have to let our actions speak for us.
“Oh,” Carlos finally says, unable to hide that look on his face.
“He got a loft downtown and offered to let me stay,” I add nervously. “It’s big enough that I have my own room and everything.”
Dead silence. In fact, the only feedback I’m getting is that stiff head nod that makes it clear he isn’t believing a single word I’ve just said.
“It won’t be too far a drive from school, either. Which will be nice when cheer practice starts in a couple weeks, and especially when winter hits.”
Still nothing.
I fidget with one of my damp curls and let my gaze drift to the wall, feeling super uncomfortable with his reaction. It’s put me in a position to keep explaining why I decided to do this, but I don’t owe him that. We’re not together and I haven’t made any type of commitment. Honestly, yeah, there’s some pretty strong physical attraction between us, but I don’t think this is going anywhere. If it were, after keeping in touch for a year, I think I’d know.
“You’ll… have to give me a virtual tour sometime,” he finally says, flashing what seems like a tight smile that leaves him a little too quickly.
“Sure. Whenever you’re ready.”
I’m anxious to end our call, so I take this next bout of silence as an opportunity.
“Well, I should get ready. I’ve got a few things to knock off my to-do list this morning.”
“Of course. We’ll talk later.”
“Bye,” I say with a wave, feeling super relieved to be ending this.
The moment my screen goes dark, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve got enough to worry about without adding Carlos’ feelings to the list. Starting with the fact that my parents are leaving soon, and I have yet to hear from either of them. I’m sure Mom would’ve, but she’s likely been super busy tying up loose ends. Still, the radio silence hurts a little.
Don’t do it, Joss. Don’t let the sadness in. Focus.
With that, I stand from the bed and throw on the khaki shorts and white tank I laid out for the day. Then, I work a bit of product through my hair and pull it up into a bun. After that, I open my bedroom door and settle in to start my first day of work. I’ll mostly be on my phone and iPad, but it seems fitting to be at my desk, so that’s where I sit, providing a bit of structure.
“Let’s see what we have here,” I sigh to myself, pulling up Dane’s Instagram account. His login info is the same for everything, which has me making a mental note to encourage him to change that.
Right away, I see where I need to start, but there’s some serious hesitation as I stare at his jam-packed DMs. I’m guessing he’s gone through them this week, but there are still nearly a hundred staring me in the face right now. So, pulling up my big girl britches, I go in with caution.
Right away, I feel like I need a body condom just reading this shit. Photo after photo of naked chicks trying to give their vaginas away. I mean, straight up handing them over on a silver platter for Dane to do with them as he pleases.
“Thirsty bitches,” I grumble to myself.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
Boob shot.
Delete.
I should’ve waited to shower after I finished with this shit, because now I feel dirty all over again.
I keep scrolling into some of the older messages and don’t see what I expect. There’s very little engagement on Dane’s part. As in, he doesn’t respond to most of this B.S. From the looks of it, he only replies to people he actually knows.
Interesting.
“Find anything good?”
I nearly leap out of my chair when he wanders in with coffee, smiling behind the mug when he sips. At first, I’m focused there, on his smile. Then, I notice he’s shirtless, wearing nothing but plaid pajama pants. The long, thick, and very distinct outline between his legs tells me he’s likely not wearing anything underneath them.
“I… no, actually,” I say once I finally remember ‘how to English’.
Damn abs.
“Looks like Rose was worried for nothing. I mean, yeah, these girls reach out, but you haven’t done or said anything stupid. Not from what I can see anyway.”
He smiles again. “This should be an easy job for you, then.”
I shrug and glance back toward the screen, scrolling to the top again. That’s when I notice one I missed. Surprisingly, I’m not accosted by body parts when I open it.
“You know something about a girl named Shawna?”
Dane’s eyes slam shut when he nods. “Shit. Yeah. Rose mentioned that she’d be in touch. It’s her daughter. She sent something?”
I nod. “Yep, just to introduce herself. Nothing specific.”
He sips again and shrugs. “Maybe I’ll get to it when I’m done at the gym. Need anything before I go? There’s coffee,” he adds, lifting his own into the air.
I glance up at him for a sec, being mindful not to stare. “Uh, nope. I think I’m good. Have fun.”
“Will do.”
I don’t look up again until he’s gone. Mostly because I don’t trust myself. It’s only day two and I’m already thinking we should add another rule to our list.
Dane shalt not go shirtless.
Signed, my ovaries.
7
Joss
After “work”—if I can even call it that yet—I finished unpacking my things, put Victor someplace safer than a shoebox in the closet, then broke down all the boxes and took them out to the dumpster. I even got up the nerve to call my uncle, only to have him confirm that he did in fact give my internship spot to whoever was next in line. He apologized profusely, but then explained that he had to act quickly. With plans to spend the summer in Europe, as soon as my father reached out, the runner up got the call.
It burns knowing that my father—someone I thought had my best interest at heart—would do something so underhanded. But I’m starting to see the man for who he really is.
Selfish. Mean. The asshole of all assholes.
Shake it off, Joss. You were doing great. Just move forward.
On a lighter note, with all the boxes gone, my room feels a bit homier and less like a storage room. With so much time on my hands, I even got some of Dane’s things put away. He’s a guy and it would’ve sat there forever otherwise.
Now, as I stand at the stove, preparing dinner, I’m hoping this gesture doesn’t give the wrong impression. The point is to show my gratitude for Dane opening his place to me, but now that I’m thinking about it, unpacking his things and cooki
ng for him might come across a bit too… girlfriend-y.
Well, shit. I’ve already spent my last dime on chicken, rice, and roasted carrots. No turning back now.
Bored and waiting for the timer to go off, I grab my phone from the counter and scroll through my feed, seeing what I’ve missed after keeping busy all day. Mostly, it’s pics of people’s meals, mixed drinks, and pets, but an image posted an hour ago has my full attention.
A lean torso covered in sweat, biceps far more stacked than even just a few months ago, and a face that’s handsome, but not too handsome. Rugged is a good word. The look he’s giving is anything but innocent. It’s lethal.
Yeah, he definitely lives up to the name Pretty Boy D.
I haven’t blinked in a full minute because I’m stuck gawking at him, imagining what my best friend looks like without clothes.
Not my proudest moment.
This lapse reminds me of the one I had when he came into my room this morning, half-naked. So, I check the reaction quickly this time, opting to peek at the comments instead since doing so is officially my job now.
As expected, the reactions are about as explicit as what I found in his private messages earlier, only no nudes. If I didn’t already know it, I would after such a close look at his account—these women want him.
Bad.
“You cooked?”
Shocked, my eyes flash toward Dane at the sound of his voice. I was so engrossed in his update I hadn’t even heard him come in. He can’t see my screen, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like a kid caught sneaking cookies.
“I… I um… yeah,” I finally force out, fumbling to shove the phone inside my pocket.
His eyes narrow with suspicion. “Shit, was that porn or something?”
He flashes a wicked smirk when asking and, naturally, the sight of it makes me even more jumpy.
“What? No.”
He’s still giving me that look. “Let me see your phone then,” he teases, coming closer.
“It wasn’t that. I was just—”
You were what, exactly? Staring at his pic? Staring at the waistline of his shorts, wishing you had magical powers to see what he’s hiding beneath them?
He’s laughing now, letting his gaze slip over me. “Damn, was it that kinky?”
I’m positive my face is red now. The heat blooming upward from my neck tells me so.
“It was just something personal,” I lie, which I normally hate to do, but this doesn’t count.
His glare stays trained on me for a bit, then he backs off, allowing my heart to settle again.
Finally.
“Now that the interrogation’s over, you hungry?” I ask, still trying to mask my own guilt.
“Starving.” After answering, he watches as I move to the oven to peek inside.
“Well, the chicken’s almost done.”
“Good thing I showered at the gym then. Just let me put my stuff away.”
I nod as he walks off, pretending I didn’t just picture that—him covered in lather, rinsing it down the drain until all I see is smooth, bare skin.
By the time he makes it back, I’ve plated the food and gotten us set up on the fire escape. It’s a perfect night to dine outside, so we’ll make use of the small, wrought-iron table and matching chairs the previous renter left behind.
“Out here.”
Dane diverts his path when I call out, then drops down into the seat across from mine. As I stare at his tousled hair, the way the faint rays of the summer sunset touch his skin, I realize I was right.
Cooking him dinner does feel extremely girlfriend-y.
Not even sure that’s a word, but I’ve used it twice now, so I’m gonna pretend it’s a thing.
“I saw that you put some of my shit away. I owe you,” he says, glancing up from his plate to flash a smile.
“I hope that wasn’t invasive. I just had extra time and thought I’d help you out. Having extra time is also the reason I cooked,” I add with a nervous laugh. “Well, that and because I wanted to show my appreciation.”
“For?” he asks, popping a carrot into his mouth.
“For letting me stay here. For being a good friend. All of it.”
Chewing, he shrugs casually. “You never have to thank me for anything, Joss, but… you’re welcome.”
God, he’s perfect.
I’m failing at this whole keep-things-in-perspective plan, so I try to make light conversation.
“You know, I was thinking. We should decorate out here. I mean, it’s bigger than most fire escapes, so we could totally string some lights around the rail, get some clay pots out here, a few plants…”
Sunlight makes the green centers of his eyes burn when he peers up, cutting his chicken while smiling.
“What? You hate it?”
He shakes his head, taking a bite. “Nope. Opposite. I like that you’re making plans, feeling at home.”
I suppress a grin by sipping from my glass.
“Been sleeping okay?” he asks. “I know being in a new place can be weird.”
I shrug. “Actually, it’s been fine. How about you?”
He shrugs, too. “Pretty sure I’ll rest better once I have an actual bed.”
When he mentions it, I feel kind of bad his new one—a custom-made California king—won’t be delivered for a little while yet.
“Not to mention how sore I’ll be once practice starts next week. Should be fun,” he jokes. “Aren’t you starting cheer soon?”
“Yeah, but we won’t be meeting as often as you guys. Thank God,” I add with a laugh.
“You nervous?”
“About being on the squad? Nah, not really. Won’t be too different from dance as far as conditioning is concerned.”
He nods, agreeing. Then, my phone vibrates for about the third time in the last sixty seconds. It’s still in my pocket from when I tried hiding it, so it rumbles against the wrought-iron seat, loud and obnoxious.
“Need to get that?”
I meet his gaze when he acknowledges it this time. I set my fork down to silence it. “Sorry. It’s Carlos. I can call him back.”
“Ah, Carlos,” he says in a tone I find extremely hard to read. “So… what are you two exactly? Friends? More?”
I glance up at him, unable to hide my smile. “Funny you should ask. He was wondering the same about me and you.”
There’s a pleased smirk on his lips now. “Interesting.”
“Yup. As soon as I told him we’re sharing this place, he gave me the look.”
He knows exactly what I’m talking about. It’s the same look we’ve been getting since we were young. That look of disbelief when we tell anyone that the only thing between us is friendship.
“Your guy friends always feel threatened,” he adds with a cocky air to his tone, letting me know he isn’t completely oblivious as to why. I mean, he’s seen himself in the mirror.
“Well, he can feel however he wants about it. I’m pretty sure whatever we’ve got going on is dead in the water. We live a world apart.”
I spoon rice into my mouth before looking at Dane again. He’s kind of picking over his food now, which is a far cry from how he’d been enjoying it a moment ago.
“What is it? Does something not taste right?” I ask, but he shakes his head.
“No, everything’s great.” That answer leaves me even more confused, which is why I set my fork down and reach for my napkin.
“Then, what is it?”
It takes a bit for him to even look at me, but when he does, I see more than I think he means for me to see.
“I’m just wondering… is that the only reason it’s not working between you two? Distance?”
The question seems simple enough, but it feels loaded. Like, he’s asking a question wrapped inside another question.
One I’m not sure I want to answer.
Scrambling for a response, I shrug. “I mean, I suppose that’s had a lot to do with it. Our only means of communication is video
chat, and we can’t build much of a foundation with thousands of miles between us.”
When I finish, Dane nods slowly, thoughtfully, but his eyes never leave me. My heart flutters, and now I’m worried that I’m the one being too transparent.
So, I scramble again.
“But this Shawna thing should be good, right? I mean, from the looks of it, she’s got a pretty big following. That’ll lead to some crossover once you two start making appearances together. Assuming that’s Rose’s agenda, that is.”
The next look I get from him hits me right in the chest. It’s like he’s confused and wounded at the same time, maybe wondering why I’d bring that up now.
Don’t bend on this. You know the lines have to stay clean. No blurring whatsoever.
“I’ll reach out to her first thing in the morning to set something up for you guys,” I say quickly, before I change my mind altogether.
I still have his attention, and it’s incredibly uncomfortable. Mostly, because he has yet to respond to my announcement. But then he swallows hard and seems to snap out of… whatever that was.
“Yeah, of course. Sounds good.”
We finish eating in silence, and I gather our dishes when we’re done, needing an excuse to put space between us.
You’re doing the right thing, Joss.
I mean, aren’t I? Not only is setting him up with Shawna good for his career and good for strengthening his rapport with Rose, but I’m beginning to think it’s good for our friendship, too. Maybe if we aren’t so focused on each other things won’t get so confusing. So… overwhelming.
I set our dishes on the edge of the sink and start rinsing them to load into the dishwasher. Meanwhile, my thoughts are a mess, wondering if I just made a stupid move. I feel so torn I’m sick to my stomach, but only until I give myself a reality check.
Mom and Dad were best friends once. Then, they gave into their feelings and, from there, the relationship went to shit. I’ve seen that scenario play out with my own eyes, so it’s decided. No matter what my heart says, I have to think with my head. Dane and I can never be more than what we already are.
