by Unknown
“Not outside of the apartment.”
“He offer?”
“Repeatedly.”
Law hums before he asks, “What do you do in your free time, Ryder?”
Another shrug escapes. “The apartment has a gym so I do that.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“So work and the gym?”
“My weekly meeting with Noah, you, and this place. That's it.”
His large frame leans forward. “Recovery is all about change. Moving forward. Doing things differently than you have in the past. There is a difference between existing and living, Ryder. If you choose to continue to merely just exist, how is that not wasting the opportunities that you've been handed? How is that honoring the promise I'm safely assuming you made Doc?”
The question causes me to shift uncomfortably.
“Here's your homework before our next meeting. Find a hobby. I don't give a fuck if it's whittling or coin collecting. Pick something.”
My jaw tightens.
“And the next time your roommate offers for you to do something with him and his friends, go. Simple.”
Simple? No. Nothing about this process is simple other than peeing in a fucking cup and letting them take my blood once a month. The constant discussions of dating. The nagging pressure to be more involved, to be more invested in my own life, are so overwhelming the vast temptation to drown the desires in anything detrimental are increasing exponentially. But I can't go back. I'm not that person any more. At least I don't want to be that person any more. Who the hell do I wanna be? Choices. Everything is about fucking choices.
Presley
“Please tell me you've left your townhome for more than work and groceries,” Katherine snips from the other end of my office phone.
“The gym,” I whisper in hopes that'll work as a valid excuse. “Been taking a kick boxing class-”
“Presley,” she sighs over dramatically.
“The instructor is really cute.”
“Presley!”
“What? No one told my only friend to go on a book tour.” The remark is accompanied with my fingers flying across the keyboard.
“You mean other than my publisher?”
“Right,” I playfully agree.
“Just because I'm not there doesn't mean you shouldn't try to socialize.” Predicting the coming speech causes me to drop my head forward. “Your life with Xander was very routine based. Very predictable. Use this time to discover who you are. Who you lost. Who you want to be.”
It's not a wonder how her books always make it to the top of New York Times Best Seller list. Between the skewed examples and peppered in self-discovery tactics it's a flawless execution.
“Like the new furniture in your house. It's all...what's the word I'm looking for?”
“You used tacky the first time I sent you pictures.”
There's a snicker. “It doesn't fit my taste, but it speaks volumes about yours. About what has been buried so far underground. The deep purples and passionate blues. The silver and chrome. The hints of white. I never once saw anything like that at your old place. While it gives me a headache it does say you're making improvements.”
I smile at the compliment. “Thank you.”
“But-”
“We can't just leave it with me doing well?”
There's a grunt before she states, “You have to keep at it, Presley. Keep discovering what you like. What you don't. What makes you smile and laugh. Rome wasn't built in a day.”
I hate that phrase. What if Rome was built in a day? What if building Rome took a day but word spreading it was built was what took the rest of the time? And why do I have to be like a great fallen city? Why do I have to be a great anything? Isn't being a great friend and decent boss enough? Why do I have to be epic? Why can't I just...float by? Scratch that. I've already floated by. I definitely don't want that again.
“Look, I'll be back in the city before you know it, but in the mean-time can you please find something to go do?”
“I went to kickboxing.”
“Something else.”
Leaning back in my office chair, I question. “With who?”
“I don't know. Dana? I mean, she's not my first choice but maybe go have a drink with her after work? Or the librarian? She's seems nice. Call up Gabe and go hang out with him at a bar. Meet new people. He's great for that type of thing.”
Another reminder of how my brother got all the amazing genes has me shutting my eyes.
“Just something. You've spent plenty of time cooped up behind office doors. Townhouse doors. Go mingle.” Before I can comment there's yelling in the background. “I gotta go. Time for wardrobe.”
“Alright. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Of course.” Quickly she adds, “Oh. And eat something for heaven's sake.”
In a sheepish tone I argue, “I have been eating.”
“You haven't. Your photos aren't lying. Start eating or we will definitely be enrolling you in more sessions when I get home.”
Why does it feel in a way we never stopped? “Fine.” The yelling starts again. “Go. Before they fire you.”
“They can't fire me,” she sighs. “Who would make them this much money?”
Her final words cause me to cock a smirk and end the call. As soon as I do, I check my cell phone that's flashing me a new message. While my immediate reaction should be stunned something inside of me is preventing it.
Xander: I would like to see you.
Disbelief keeps my back pinned against the leather chair. Rapidly my brain wracks for a time when he ever extended this much effort to express more than the cold facts. More than the informing of what he was doing. What he had decided. Unable to tear my eyes away from the simple six words, I debate on what to do with the data sitting in the palm of my hand.
An unexpected knock on my office door ceases any further contemplation.
Merrick's bright face pops in. “Busy?”
I close the message, push the phone to the side, and wave a hand at the chair in front of my desk. “Nope. What's on your mind?”
He flops down in it and leans back. “Any idea why the final carnival booth signs that need to be painted haven't arrived yet?”
The question causes me to wake my computer back up. “Last I heard they were supposed to be delivered early this morning.”
“And they weren't.”
“No,” I sigh. “There was probably a delay. Hopefully it wasn't a big one.”
“Hope not,” Merrick mumbles. “I had plans tonight. I'd hate to cancel to try to make up for the lost time, ya know?”
Quickly, I insist, “Don't cancel your plans. There's no need. You'll have plenty of time before the carnival.” After keying in my log in information I glance over at him. “You work like a magician for crying out loud. The Houdini of painting.”
He chuckles and gives me a cocky smirk. “I like that. Houdini of painting.”
While searching through the emails I casually prod, “What are you and Jovi up to tonight?”
“We're going bowling with some friends and my roommate. Nothing huge, but I hate canceling on her.” His constant effort to be a great boyfriend squeezes my already tight chest harder. “Besides my roommate who is basically a hermit actually agreed to leave the apartment for something besides work, so I'm double boned if I have to cancel.” There's a brief pause before he says in an unsure voice, “Can I say boned to my boss?”
I giggle and double click the email I was searching for. Turning to face him I smile. “Yes. You can say that, but not with the office door open. Never know when children are around.”
He cringes at his mistake.
“You should be in the clear. It's nap time, remember?” With another glance at my screen, I shake my head. “It looks like something was wrong with one of the delivery trucks and it won't arrive until tomorrow afternoon.” My eyes fall back on easily one of my favorite employees, not to mention just p
eople in general. How can he not be? He's kind. Funny. Relaxed. Like Katherine, he's a breath of fresh air in an overstuffed environment. “Your conscience can be clear for the evening. Enjoy bowling.”
“Thanks.” He smiles wide and starts to get up yet stops abruptly. “Do you like bowling?”
With a shrug I reply, “Honestly can't remember the last time I went.”
“You should come,” he encourages. Instantly my face starts to change and he adds, “Jovi would love to have you and I would love to be able to brag how I kicked my boss' butt at bowling.”
His comment makes me shake my head with a smirk.
“Come on,” he pushes with so much mirth in his voice, resisting gets harder. “It'll be fun. Couple beers. Couple frames. Couple bragging rights for me....”
“How does Jovi stand the amount of cockiness that comes out of you?” I playfully tease back.
“That's a very complicated question.” He winks. Just as I laugh again he stands. “So I'll take that as a yes.”
Katherine's demand bounces around my brain shoving my attention back down to the desk where my past is waiting for a response. Waiting for me to walk right back into it. I don't want to go back. I don't need to go back. I need to keep faking this whole self-discovery thing until it happens again. Until I'm living like I once did. Like I know I should.
“Yeah,” I agree with a nod. “I've gotta go home and change, but I'll meet you there.”
“We're going to Strike.” Merrick backs up towards the door. “You know where that is?”
“I do.”
“Hope you're prepared to lose, Boss Lady...”
His disappearance out of my office allows my shoulders to drop in relief. I can do this. I want to do this. Hanging around Jovi and Merrick for a couple hours, meeting new people, and having a drink, are better for me than pulling at the thread of what once was. With one very particular exception, everything in the past should stay where it is. Behind me.
**
Walking into the bar area of the bowling facility, which is an adults only alley, I immediately spot Jovi who's sitting in Merrick's lap. The sight actually slows my stride. They're so intimidating to be around. Even from a distance the amount of devotion to one another is suffocating. Despite the urge to turn around, get back in my car, and send him a text message telling him I forgot I had other plans, I travel forward.
“Hey, Boss Lady,” Merrick chuckles, putting his beer down but keeping his arm wrapped around his girlfriend’s waist. “You're earlier than expected.”
“I left work a little early to change,” I confess. Afterward I greet the gorgeous girl in his grasps. “Hey, Jovi.”
“Presley!” She exclaims loudly. “I'm so glad you're here!”
“She's a little tipsy,” Merrick says over her shoulder.
With a sharp expression she glances back at him. “Jealous.”
“Impatient.”
He licks his lip slowly and she shifts her expression as well as her body.
Feeling like I'm intruding, I brace myself to make an excuse to go when Jovi continues her welcome. “I'm so glad you decided to hang out with us. I'm always telling Merrick how much more I like you than the other women who work there.”
In a playful mumble he states, “Jealous.”
The banter starts up again with her response. “Protective.”
His face tilts at her. “Unnecessary.”
When she smirks this time, I have a seat in the chair beside her. “Are you two always this way?”
“Kinda,” they answer together on a laugh.
Instead of wanting to shy away from their overbearing tenderness, I batten down the hatches for the next wave of unyielding affections that I'm sure are to follow. It's been about a decade since I lived that carefree with someone I loved. Hell, it's been that long since I was in love. The silent revelation has me ordering a double cocktail the second our server asks.
Once the waitress has headed back to the bar, Merrick takes a moment to introduce me to the other people who were invited. One male is from an art class Merrick has, two ladies are from one of Jovi's classes, and the other is a married couple who lives in the same apartment complex as Jovi. From the information out of the couple, they met Merrick and Jovi at a summer pool cook out hosted by the apartment complex. According to the woman her husband and Merrick are both gear heads, which forced her and Jovi to find something to talk about. My cocktail gets dropped off at the same time I'm informed by one of the other women that we're on a wait for our lanes.
Everyone seems kind enough yet I still feel out of place. In hopes of wading my way out of the waters of awkwardness, I turn my attention back to Jovi, thankful I have at least one person outside of Merrick to comfortably converse with. “So, being tipsy. Fun or stress?”
“Both.”
“Lie,” Merrick sells her out between sips.
“Why are you drinking?” She snaps. “Designated driver. Remember?”
“That means no beer?”
With sarcasm in her tone Jovi snaps, “Yeah.”
He grows a cocky grin. “As in...absolutely no beer?”
“Merrick.”
On another laugh he surrenders a hand. “Chill. I'm just having the one. H20 after this.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Watching the easiness of their relationship stirs the longing in the pit of my stomach. What if Xander was ready to move towards something more natural? Something more compromising? Something filled with kisses rather than excuses?
Clearing my throat I ask, “What's got you stressed?”
“My professor is a dick,” she casually answers with a shrug. When I smile she declares, “Seriously! He called my last assignment a waste of canvas.”
“Ouch.”
“He is a dick,” Merrick backs her up and asks the waitress for a glass of water.
An easy promise kept. Uncomplicated communication. It should be that easy. That's not to say relationships won't have their problems or battles. Humps or hiccups. They should just be smoother sailing in between. There's definitely a difference between smooth sailing and just coasting. One you're still giving your attention to.
“Sounds that way,” I agree. “I'm not a professor, but that doesn't sound like the way I think you're supposed to talk to students.”
“They call him Lucifer.” Jovi giggles and has another sip of her drink. “His first name is Lucius and that's the only thing we're allowed to call him because he wants us to know he's one of the small people too.”
In disbelief, I simply shake my head.
“He used to do something in a high end gallery for someone important in New York,” she continues. “Or so he says.”
“Yet he's now teaching a class at an art college down south,” Merrick snidely states. “His life is definitely going places.”
After we laugh together, the woman who lives in Jovi's apartment complex announces our lanes are ready. We all stand and even in doing so, the two of them barely separate. I fight the urge to give into the ache in my chest.
Merrick tosses a bill on the table big enough to cover their drinks and mine.
Quickly I object, “I can pay for my own drink.”
“It was just one drink, Boss Lady,” he insists as he tugs Jovi in closer to him. “And if you really think about it. You paid me, so technically you did.”
His logic has me shaking my head again. We relocate the lane where everyone begins to put down their belongings before heading for the shoe counter.
Merrick offers softly, “Want me to grab your shoes, baby?”
She gives him big smile. “Yes, please.”
“Boss Lady?”
“I'll come with you,” I deny the offer. “I don't mind.”
He gives me a small smirk before tossing a nod over my shoulder. “Looks like my roommate made it here just in time.” Having completely forgotten we were expecting more people, I post on the most convincing friendly smile I can, the
one I save for work tours, and prepare to turn around. “Boss Lady I would like you to meet my roommate, Ryder.” The name drops my mouth at the same time my body angles to see a face that makes my knees buckle. “Ryder I'd like you to meet my boss-”
“Pres,” my name is dropped like an invocation coated with enough intensity to knock the air out of my lungs.
In a whirlwind, echoes of the past fill my mind, courting me to come back to them. To hold their hand. To relive the emotions that have been waiting for this precise moment. For the most minuscule glimpse that fate exists. Disbelief shuts my eyes only to be bombarded with our every kiss, every laugh, every praise and promise to ever exist between us.
