In the Distance

by Eileen Griffin

  “On it, Chef.”

  I wiped off my forehead with a spare towel and tucked it into my apron, dreading going back out onto the floor. Before I got to the hors d’oeuvres station, I scanned the room. Twice. There were still plenty of couples, but there was no Ethan, no Jamie. And no Trevor. Wait. I zeroed in on the doors at the back of the ballroom and a familiar shock of artfully messy brown hair. My stomach churned as I watched Trevor walk through the doors with the man I’d seen him with earlier. This time, the man had his hand on Trevor’s lower back.

  It shouldn’t have been a shock. But as I watched the doors close behind them, I felt nauseated. We’d never defined what was going on between us, giving Trevor free reign to do whatever he wanted with whomever he pleased.

  Fuck it. I didn’t need this kind of crap in my life. Work, school, sleep, repeat. Everything else was secondary.

  I stacked the empty hors d’oeuvres trays and returned to the kitchen. For the next two hours I was on autopilot, doing anything and everything to stay distracted. After a long bus ride, I kicked off my shoes, tossed my keys in the general direction of the coffee table and threw myself on the futon, still fully clothed. In the dark, everything seemed so much worse and I felt even more alone than usual. Exhaustion didn’t help put me to sleep for once, and I stared up at the ceiling.

  What did it matter if Trevor went home with someone else? We had never discussed dating, so why did any of this bother me at all? Why be pissed-off at all over a guy Ethan had pegged as an asshole years ago? As my eyes adjusted to the dim light coming in through the kitchen window, I sighed. I didn’t have answers to any of my questions, except the last one. I was pissed because I’d been stupid enough to think there was more between me and Trevor than there actually was.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Trevor

  I woke up Sunday morning sluggish and unsettled. Except for the few hours I got with Tyler on Friday night, the rest of the weekend had been a total wash. From the sterile and strictly professional interaction I’d had with him during the brunch, to not even getting to say a quick hello to him at the gala, nothing had gone the way I’d hoped. We still had today to hang out without any distractions getting in the way, but it sucked to have lost so many hours.

  Even though I was anxious to get the day started, I’d decided to give Tyler a few more hours to sleep. Between our late night on Friday and his shift last night, he was probably exhausted. I rolled out of the hotel’s too-firm bed and put on my workout clothes. Seattle in February wasn’t conducive to a run outside, so the hotel’s gym would have to do for kicking my ass back into shape.

  During most workouts, I zoned out, allowing myself that time to reboot as my feet pounded the treadmill. But no matter how high I cranked my iPod or how fast I ran, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. I stumbled, almost wiping out on the treadmill, when it hit me. Tyler hadn’t called or texted. Not once, even after he’d gotten home from working the gala.

  It wasn’t like we had an unwritten agreement to check in with each other every hour on the hour. Shit happened that often prevented one or both of us from touching base. He’d probably had a busy weekend. But had he been so busy he hadn’t had time to type out a simple “Hey”?

  Someone would have let me know if something had happened to him. Jamie knew we’d been texting, so surely he would have let me know if Tyler had gotten sick. Or been in an accident. No, I definitely would have heard something. Seeing him at brunch yesterday hadn’t been ideal, but we’d handled it. Last night at the gala, though, all I’d seen of him was his back as he’d hightailed it out of the ballroom before I could ditch the douche next to me and make it over to where he was talking with Ethan and Jamie. The more I turned it over in my head, the more confused I became.

  I finished my workout and headed back up to my room for a shower with barely a nod on my way out of the gym for the other guy, who was checking me out. It didn’t matter if he was gay or straight, nothing was on my radar right now except for a tall, skinny and utterly exasperating sous-chef.

  Before getting in the shower, I reread the text.

  Dude. How do you deal with the rain? I’m dying to go for a run outside, but this weather sucks balls. Will be at the hotel all day if you need me—T.

  Short, simple and not too needy. I sent the text and hit the shower. I hadn’t even dried off completely before my phone was back in my hand. Except for a few emails about some of Natalie’s upcoming appearances, there was nothing. Nada. Zilch.

  I set the phone down and dried off, checking for a blinking light every few minutes. I turned on my iPad, only to shut it off a few minutes later, having no desire to check any of my social media accounts or my emails. I puttered around the hotel room for a few minutes, packing up the few things I’d left out in preparation for tomorrow’s red-eye flight back to New York. Finally, when I couldn’t stand it anymore, I headed downstairs to the hotel’s coffee shop, leaving my phone in the room, and grabbed the paper to catch up on the news. Sure, I could have read it on my iPad, but I told myself nothing beat the satisfaction of working my way through the entire Sunday edition of the New York Times. At least, that’s what I was trying to convince myself of when I picked up a copy of The Gray Lady in the hotel’s gift shop.

  Thirty minutes later, I returned to my room, stomach churning with coffee, granola and Greek yogurt. I told myself it didn’t matter if I heard back from Tyler, but I couldn’t stop myself from picking up my phone. Nothing.

  Frustrated, and now worried, I typed out a new message.

  Hope you got some sleep after the busy weekend. Let me know when you want to get together today—T.

  Without the least bit of enthusiasm, I dug out the entertainment section and rolled my eyes at the latest crop of society girls and marriage announcements. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep my eyes from darting to my phone. Images began to flood my brain. What if something had happened on the way back from the gala? After all, he rode the bus late at night. Why hadn’t I stayed longer and insisted on driving him home?

  I froze. When had I turned into someone who worried about a perfectly competent guy who had been riding the bus by himself for years? It wasn’t like he was a kid. If Ethan could have heard my thoughts at the moment he would have pissed himself laughing at me worrying about Tyler, who could more than take care of himself on his own. But still, I couldn’t shake the feeling there was something wrong. Something really wrong.

  I typed and retyped the message several times, not quite happy with any of them. After the fifth attempt, I pressed Send.

  Everything alright?—T

  Not even ten seconds later, my phone chirped with a response.

  Sure. Everything’s great. Sorry—can’t text right now. Too busy spending my huge tips from yesterday’s brunch on groceries. B/c that’s what poor people do.

  What the fuck? I looked at the top of the screen just to double-check the sender, then reread the message again. His moratorium on communication this weekend was because of the lousy fifty I’d left him yesterday? There had to be more to the story.

  I put down my phone and thought through my options. One: I could just say fuck it and just hit Delete. Tyler was obviously pissed and I was obviously the one who’d pissed him off. I didn’t do drama, and this thing between Tyler and me had drama written all over it. With any other guy, the first hint things had moved past casual fun and into ‘holy crap this is getting serious’ had me out the door and in the next zip code without a second thought. The problem with that plan was I didn’t want Tyler to be in the past. I’d looked forward to this weekend more than I had anything in a long time and I wasn’t going to let this go without finding out what in the actual fuck was going on.

  I could call Tyler and demand he tell me what in the actual fuck was going on, but he’d probably hang up before I could figure out the prob
lem and then ignore me the rest of the weekend. Which led me to my second option: I could textually raise my hands in surrender and beg him to keep our date so I could figure out where I’d fucked up this weekend.

  Dinner was supposed to be on me, but why don’t you put that $50 toward our dinner tonight and we’ll call it even?

  I watched the clock on my phone until five minutes had passed. Right when I’d swiped open my chat to type up another text, one with more begging, my phone chirped.

  Fat Eddie’s on Pine & 1st @ 7.

  The longer I stared at my phone, the more confused I got. I had four and a half hours until I was supposed to meet Tyler for dinner. It was more than enough time for me to wonder when the hell things had gone this far off the rails.

  * * *

  6:48 p.m.

  Three minutes later than the last time I’d checked my phone.

  I’d reached for my beer, mostly to have something in my hands so I couldn’t check my fucking phone again, when I saw him walk through the front door. He was dressed in faded blue jeans, a navy blue thermal shirt under a frayed green jacket and a navy beanie he tugged off his head the moment he’d crossed the threshold. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him look so natural, so confident in his own skin. Seeing him like this only made me realize why I’d been a nervous wreck all day. No one, not the guy at the hotel’s gym this morning giving me the eye or the dickhead at last night’s gala who didn’t want to take no for an answer, had this effect on me, and it fucking terrified me.

  When he finally made his way over to the bar and sat down on the stool next to mine, I let out a relieved breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

  I racked my brain for something deep and profound to say. Instead, all I could get out was, “Since you’re buying, I’ll take another Snoqualmie Steam Train Porter.”

  My request didn’t exactly produce a smile, but at least Tyler wasn’t eyeing the exit yet. The bartender came over and took our orders, but we remained in an awkward silence until my beer and his Coke were sitting in front of us.

  “Can I just ask what I did wrong? I feel like I pissed in your Cheerios, but somehow I can’t remember when, where or how this defilement of your Cheerios took place.”

  The anger coming off him as his hands twisted and turned his glass around and around on its coaster was palpable. I was ready to call it a night when he finally met my gaze and glared. “Why me?”

  “Come again?”

  His glare hardened as he repeated his question, “Why me? Am I a charity case? Is that what this has been for the past few months? Or was Ethan right and the only thing you’re interested in is a fuck and chuck? Because I’ve got news for you, I’m not interested. Not that I can compete with that guy hanging all over you last night.”

  What in the actual fuck? Charity case? Fuck and chuck? And what in the hell did that asshole Jerry have to do with any of this?

  “First of all, and let me be very clear about this, you have never been, nor will you ever be a charity case. I take it you were offended by my tip.”

  I paused when Tyler rolled his eyes, but barreled ahead, my temper slowly surfacing. “It was obviously bad judgment on my part, but I did it because you were working your ass off in there and Chef Boulanger had comped our meal. I don’t work for nothing, so I assumed, again obviously erroneously, you didn’t either. However, a simple phone call, hell, even a text, to let me know the tip had been this offensive would have been great, thanks. As far as the fuck and chuck, last time I checked, we haven’t fucked. Or do you not remember what did and did not happen Friday night?”

  When Tyler didn’t respond, I bit out, “And if you’d bothered to check in last night about what you assumed was going on you would have found out I went back to my hotel. Alone. I came to town for the gala because Natalie was one of the guest chefs, but also because I wanted to see you.”

  Surprise flashed in Tyler’s gaze, but he still didn’t say anything.

  I sighed, frustrated the weekend had ended up like this. “Then again, and correct me if I’m wrong, we’ve never defined what we both want out of this. I’m not saying I haven’t loved every minute we’ve been together, but I thought we’d gotten to the point where we were being honest with each other. This weekend proved just how wrong I was. I’m not saying I would, but if I’d wanted to take someone back to my hotel, there wouldn’t have been much to stop me.”

  The silent pain etched on his face went straight to my gut. I softened my voice and looked directly at him, even though he steadfastly refused to look back at me. “None of that matters, though, because I didn’t. Honestly, it never even entered my mind to leave with someone last night. The only person I wanted to spend time with this weekend is sitting right here next to me.”

  “If you’re trying to get back in my pants, you’re out of luck. I’m sure that guy who couldn’t keep his hands off you wouldn’t mind it if you called him.”

  “Seriously? You’re pissed because of the flirting? Smiling and laughing with someone doesn’t automatically mean I want to fuck them. I flirt with my mom’s sixty-year-old housekeeper. Want her number so you can warn her she’ll be next on my nail-and-bail list? Newsflash, Tyler, this is me. It’s my job to be charming, this is how I make my living and it’s part of who I am. Take it or leave it.”

  I put down my beer and slid off my bar stool. “I’m done trying to convince you I’m not the soulless manwhore Ethan apparently convinced you I am. Thanks for the beer, but I’ve suddenly lost my appetite, so excuse me if I’m going to call it a night and head back to my hotel. Who knows, maybe there’ll be a nice twink in the fitness center I can pick up and bang before I head back home to New York. That’s all us manwhores are good for, right?”

  Without a backward glance, I left, the door swinging behind me with a muted thump. Tyler was out of line, and if he was adult enough to dish it out, he was adult enough to take it.

  As soon as I was in my car, I gripped the steering wheel and stared out the window. I was tired of everyone thinking I was just some idiot trust-fund whore who did nothing but bang his way through life. Sure, I banged, but so did everyone else. The difference was, Tyler made it sound like I was some fucking predator out to score his ass regardless of the consequences, when actually, for the first time since Jamie, I had toyed with the idea I might have found someone I wanted as more than just a warm body. Someone who would take me, flaws and all. Obviously, I’d been wrong.

  I started the car and turned up the street to head back to the hotel, slowing when I saw a familiar green coat. Tyler’s shoulders were hunched and he had his hands shoved into his pockets as he walked slowly toward the bus stop on the corner. I cursed under my breath and slowed the car. Despite how pissed-off I was, even I couldn’t bear to see him walking home looking so fucking dejected. I pulled over to the curb rolled down the window. “Tyler, get in the car.”

  He ignored me and kept walking. Great. Now I get to pull a fucking creeper drive-along routine.

  Gritting my teeth in frustration, I called out the window, “Look, I get that you’re pissed at me, but I really don’t want to listen to Ethan and Jamie bitch at me like two old ladies for letting their prize sous-chef get mugged on the way home.”

  When Tyler actually turned his head and shot me a defiant look, admiration wove its way through the anger simmering in my chest. Tyler wasn’t weak, no matter how much everyone might have babied him. He was pissed, hell, we both were, but I was still proud of him for finding his spine when it counted.

  I tried one more time, this time without the gritted teeth. “After everything that’s happened between us, please don’t make me beg.”

  With a heavy sigh he stopped, head drooping, then slowly reached out to open the car door and grudgingly slid into the seat. Neither one of us said a word the entire drive to his apartment, and as soon as I pulled up to his buildin
g, Tyler was out of the car and walking through the front doors. Not giving a damn whether I was in a legal parking space or not, I turned off the car and raced after him. I bypassed the safety violation of an elevator and jogged up the stairs.

  With a low curse, Tyler jiggled the key in his front door in a frustrated effort to escape inside. When I reached out to touch his sleeve, he yanked his arm away and shot me a look. “Just leave, okay?”

  “Not until you listen to what I have to say.”

  “Is stalking on your list of activities for today?”

  “No, but it would be nice if you’d actually look at me so I can get this off my chest before I leave.”

  Tyler took a deep breath and finally turned to face me, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Just answer one question for me, and then I’ll leave. Why are you so upset? You’ve obviously made up your mind to believe all the crap Ethan says about me, which would only prove you right instead of pissing you off. So I’m left wondering, if I’m as shitty as you’ve been led to believe, why does the thought of me going home with some random guy bother you so much?”

  His chin jutted forward. “That’s two questions, and it doesn’t matter.”

  His words said one thing, but his eyes held another answer altogether. I growled in frustration, refusing to let tonight end like this.

  Now or never.

  Without overthinking it, I reached out to tug him closer to me. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then I felt him relax against me. With my heartbeat pounding in my ears, I wrapped my arms tighter around him as I tried to pour all of my own doubts and insecurities into this last kiss. This wasn’t some random fuck and chuck. This was Tyler I was kissing and I needed him to feel it. The heat and need and lust and want that seemed to always exist when we touched flared again, giving me a sliver of hope this wasn’t the end. When I pulled back, we were both short of breath.