by Jessica Roe
He's angry, whether at me or himself I don't know. It better hadn't be at me or I'll have to kick his dumb face in. Whipping off his baseball cap, he runs his fingers through his hair before shoving it back on again. “Sorry,” he grunts. “I didn't mean to do that. I don't know what. . . That one was definitely my bad.”
I nod, because it totally was. Though it's not like I had to kiss him back or anything. I hate that I even wanted to kiss him back. “Yeah.”
“Why is it do hard being your friend now?” he demands, spinning in a circle and throwing his hands in the air. Frustration practically oozes out of him in waves. “I'm sick of how hard this is.”
“You're the one who kissed me,” I point out angrily. He's the only one making this hard. Before he went and attacked me with his lips I was doing just fine pretending not to have any feelings.
“No shit, Ivy.”
“Jeez, just pretend it didn't happen. It was barely even a kiss anyway!”
He scoffs at that. “Please, it was a kiss and you know it.”
“Wow, that's really where you wanna go with this?”
“No! I just want us to be able to be friends again. Normal friends. Like we used to be.”
“We are friends. None of this has been a problem this past month!”
“Because we haven't even seen each other,” he says, and I have to admit that he has a point. Burying my feelings for him has been easy since I haven't actually had to be around him. “And then the second we hang out this happens. How can I be friends with you when you're. . .when you're the only damned person I think about when I'm in bed at night?”
Now that. . .that pisses me off. Of course this is all about lust. “You have a girlfriend, Nash. Remember? I may not like Bambi but-”
“What?” His eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Bambi and I aren't together. We're just hanging out, testing the waters-”
“God, you're such a jerk! I don't care!” I yell, shoving at his chest. He's so solid that it doesn't even make him stumble, but it makes me feel just the tiniest bit better. “You don't even know what you want so you're pushing all your confusion off on me. Well you know what? I'm not gonna let you do that again. Why don't you just give me a call when you've stopped being an ass and you've decided what it is you actually want.” Turning, I begin to stalk away.
“Ivy-”
“And this doesn't mean we aren't friends anymore,” I throw over my shoulder angrily, because as much as I hate the way he's acting right now, I couldn't bear it if we went another month without talking again.
“Ivy, don't walk away. I drove you here.”
“I'll walk back!” I snarl, and then I leave him standing there looking like he's got the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.
+++
“So?” Blair demands a few days later when we meet up in Kandy's, the bar she and Jemma work at in the city. She's not working tonight, but Jemma is – though Jemma seems more interested in leaning over the bar to talk to us than doing any actual work. “How did it go with the investor?”
After finally meeting with the investor this afternoon after weeks and weeks of hard work, I'm now living on cloud nine. An uncontrollable grin makes its way onto my face as I show them the check.
Jemma squeals excitedly and Blair's eyes widen. “Holy crap, Ivy! That's a lot of zeros. What does this mean?”
“Well for starters it means that I can focus more on designing while hiring some staff to actually make the clothes for me. With all the extra time I'll be able to do so much more with Ivy's Designs.”
Laughing joyfully, she pulls me into a warm hug. I can tell how happy Blair is for me because she's not usually a hugging kind of person. “That's so awesome.”
I nod, because it really is. “He thinks we should stick to selling online for now, but I mean, who knows where it could lead in the future.”
“I'm so pleased for you!”
“Couldn't have done it without you. Those pictures-”
She waves me off. “Please. This is all on you. Have you told Nash?”
“Not yet. But I will.” And I mean that. We haven't spoken since the other day, but I know that this time it doesn't mean that we can't speak. I think we both just needed the time apart to cool down.
“This is so cool.” Jemma bounces on the balls of her feet and claps her hands. “I can't wait for my shift to end. As soon as I'm done we're gonna get some serious celebrating done.”
“Talking of celebrating,” I say to Blair. “What are you doing for Silver's birthday next week?”
Her grin is salacious. “He said he didn't want to go out this year, so I've got some stuff planned for us at home.”
I chuckle. Despite the kind of woman I'd always assumed Silver would end up with, this girl is so much more perfect for him than I ever could have imagined. She's brought him out of his shell, made him come to life.
True to Jemma's word, the minute she finishes work we get the celebrations going with a bang. We drink for free, courtesy of their sleazy boss, and we dance for so long that I'm breathless and sweaty and my feet are aching. I haven't laughed so much in months. Men come over to flirt with us, and mostly we let them, even if we don't reciprocate.
“Oh my God!” Jemma exclaims as the three of us collapse against the bar a couple of hours later. “That guy was so into you over there and he was mega hot! Why wouldn't you let him buy you a drink?”
I eye the guy across the bar. He really is hot, in that straitlaced, businessman kind of way. His hair, so dark it looks almost black, is smoothed back save for one stubborn lock that falls playfully over his forehead. And those eyes, black as midnight, are watching me right back. Still in his shirt and tie, he looks like he probably just came from the office.
“I don't know,” I reply, and I really don't. I guess it's just been so long since I've done the whole flirting in a bar thing, since. . .before Lambert. Because after him I was too heartbroken to even consider flirting with anyone, and then I got all caught up in Nash. Yeah, it's been too long. Maybe I've forgotten what flirting even feels like.
“You should call him over,” Blair says. There's a knowing look in her eyes, as if she somehow senses I'm still conflicted over my feelings for Nash.
That's when I realize that this, flirting with a new, uncomplicated guy, is exactly what I need.
So I smile at him, and his answering smile is relieved and happy. He cocks his head my way, silently asking for permission to approach, so I nod my head.
“You changed you mind?” he questions once he's made his way over. His voice, smooth and velvety, is nothing like the rough gravel of Nash's. And I should not even be thinking about Nash.
“Maybe.”
“About me or the drink?”
I tilt my head, smiling sweetly. “Haven't decided yet.”
His laugh is nice. Genuine. “Well how about I get you that drink, then I can get to work trying to change your mind about me?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Jemma winks at me over his shoulder as she drags Blair back to the dance floor, but I can see the glimmer of disappointment in her eyes. She still isn't over the idea of me and her brother. Honestly, we both need to get over that idea. And this guy might just be the way to do that. Temporarily, at least.
“I'm Oran,” he introduces himself, holding out a hand.
I take it and smile. “Ivy.”
+++
Oran is sweet and easy going. For the rest of the evening we share a few drinks and we dance, and at the end of the night he kisses me and it's. . .nice. It's not toe curling or spine tingling or mind melting, but it's nice. He doesn't try and get me to go home with him, doesn't expect anything from me like a lot of guys would after an evening of flirting. Just kisses me goodnight, asks for my number and seems genuinely delighted when I actually give it to him.
He isn't the kind of guy to play games and doesn't care to hide his interest in me, so it's only two nights later that we meet up again in the city
. The restaurant he takes me to is nicer than anywhere else I've been since leaving San Francisco.
Oran opens doors for me, holds out chairs for me, stands politely when I do like a real gentleman. I learn that he's an accountant and that he grew up in Idaho but has lived in New York City for ten years now. And he's genuinely interested in hearing about me too; about where I grew up, what I do, about the things I enjoy. He's pretty cool, actually. Handsome, successful, funny, interesting. He's a dream guy.
And yet it doesn't feel right. It just doesn't, and I can't ignore that that niggling feeling inside telling me that I shouldn't be here with him, that I should be somewhere else.
Because he. . .he isn't Nash.
This guy is way more polite than Nash. He's well traveled, too. And I doubt this guy would ever suggest having casual sex with me just to get rid of sexual tension and kiss me out of the blue only to get angry and resentful over it two minutes later. He wouldn't steal my candy or ruin my nice towels or try to manipulate me with his ridiculously well defined body. He wouldn't blow hot or cold with me, wouldn't ignore my calls and texts when things got too hard, wouldn't break up with me because his bitchy ex-girlfriend fluttered her eyelashes at him a couple of times.
He wouldn't know every single detail of my whole entire life and still think I was awesome, he wouldn't believe that I could do anything I set my heart to even when I'm curled up on the sofa eating whipped cream from the can, he wouldn't make me forget my own name with a single brush of his lips.
That's. . .that's all I want now. I want all of the bad things about Nash, and I desperately want all of the good things too. He's all I want, more than I've ever wanted anyone. Way more than I ever wanted Lambert, because that was never real. I see that now.
Nash, he's the only man I ever think about. The only man I feel for. The only man I. . .the only man I've ever loved.
I love him.
“Are you okay?” Oran asks across the table, barely even breaking through my thoughts. “You've gone really pale.
I'm in love with him.
“I. . .I'm not feeling too great,” I tell him weakly. It isn't a lie.
I'm in love with Nash.
“Is there anything I can get you? Water?”
My head shakes back and forth slowly. “I think I have to go home.”
I'm in love with Nash.
He nods, disappointed at the abrupt end to our evening but understanding. I feel guilty for lying to him because he really is a nice guy. “Let me get the bill and I'll take you.”
“It's okay,” I say, suddenly very grateful that I brought my car tonight. “I can drive. I'm so sorry, Oran. I feel awful for doing this.”
Standing and signaling to the waiter for the check, he waves my apology away. “We can do it another time.”
That's unlikely, but I feel bad enough already without saying it out loud.
I'm in love with Nash.
I should probably stay with Oran while he pays for our half eaten dinner, maybe walk out with him to our cars, but I have to get out of here right the heck now. My chest is feeling tight and I need to breathe. I need fresh air so that I can breathe. Darting forward, I kiss his cheek and then speed walk out of the restaurant, pretending not to hear him when he calls after me worriedly.
Blair and Silver offered to let me stay on their sofa tonight to save me making the almost four hour drive home after my date, but suddenly it seems incredibly important that I get back to Fortune right away.
I'm in love with Nash, and it may be crazy and irrational and the absolute worst idea I've ever had in my whole life, but I. . .I have to at least tell him.
Oh God.
I'm in love with Nash.
+++
It's after midnight by the time I pull up in the parking lot outside Nash's apartment building. I broke about seven different laws speeding here and I managed to get the drive done in under three hours. The entire time my body thrummed with nervous, restless energy. I had to blast my music and wind the windows all the way down to shut up the voices in my head telling me that this is just the most epically dumb thing I've ever done. Because Nash and I have crossed about every line in our friendship as it is, and this just doesn't seem like one we'd be able to come back from.
But I have to do this. I have to tell him. There's this need rushing through my veins, and if it's anything like what Nash went through when he proposed the whole sex idea to me to begin with, then I almost can't blame him for doing so.
By the time I'm outside his apartment door I'm so nervous that I could vomit all over the hallway carpet. That would be a great start.
This is, without a doubt, the most terrifying thing I've ever done. Confessing my love to my best friend. . .it's scarier than starting my own business, than being confronted by Kaarina Heikki, than holding baby Daisy, than anything I've ever faced before.
But I'm determined to do this, because if I don't do it now, I probably never will.
With shaking hands, I smooth down the floral a-line dress I'd worn for my date and attempt to pat down my hair, belatedly wishing I'd left the car windows up or at least pulled my hair back into a band. Too late now.
I take a deep breath, psyching myself up. This is it.
Knocking on a door has never been so hard before.
“Ivy,” Nash greets, looking understandably surprised to see me standing here. “You look. . .you look real nice.”
“I had a date.”
His mouth drops open then closes again, and for a minute he seems lost. “Oh. I didn't-”
“I love you,” I blurt out breathlessly, then feel incredibly foolish for doing it like that, right here on his doorstep. But it's out there now, there's no taking it back. I wring my hands in front of me as I wait for him to react.
His eyes widen. In confusion, mostly. And shock. Because it's no secret that we've always loved one another as friends, but I think he knows what I really mean here. “Ivy, what-”
“I'm in love with you,” I clarify, just in case. I don't want there to be any misunderstandings here, any miscommunication. All of a sudden my throat feels impossibly dry, so I swallow before hurrying to continue, because he looks like he wants to say something and I need to finish. “I know that's never what we were about, but. . .but there it is. It happened. Except it didn't. I mean. . .what I mean is. . .God, this is hard. I'm in love with you, Nash, and I think. . .I think maybe I always have been. I think I've loved you ever since we were kids and that's why I've never been able to commit to anybody else. Because there was always you. And I'm sorry if this complicates things or makes them weird or. . .” I shake my head, annoyed that I can only seem to get my words out in rambles. “I just had to tell you, in case there was a chance that you felt-”
My words come to an abrupt halt as Bambi sidles up behind Nash, her arm going around his waist.
Nash just stands there, his hands gripping the doorway so hard the cords in his muscles stand out vividly. His eyes are still wide and his mouth is parted. I think he's in shock.
“Oh,” I utter, sounding like a simpleton. Despite the words that were spilling out of me just a second ago, now I have nothing. Just nothing. Because Bambi here, at Nash's place, after midnight. . .that does not bode well for me.
“Hey Ivy. Isn't it great!” Bambi exclaims smugly. I know she's just heard every word I said, and it makes my face flame. “We decided to give things another go.”
I can't breathe through the crushing pressure in my chest. I can't breathe. I've forgotten how.
Nash lied to me – he really was back together with Bambi. Or. . .or when I told him to decide what it was he really wanted, he did. He decided. And it wasn't me.
Stepping back, because I need to be away from them, I try desperately to hide the fact that my heart is splintering. But though my face straightens out, I know I'm not kidding anyone, not with those treacherous tears filling my eyes.
I want to be angry at them, but that's ridiculous. They've done nothing wrong. Nash h
as done nothing wrong. He was honest with me from the very start. It was only supposed to ever be about sex with us. I'm the one who did this. I'm the one who went and fell in love.
I'm angry at myself. This was so stupid. I am so goddamned stupid! This. . .this is why I've never put myself out there. Because this hurts.
“Ivy,” Nash murmurs weakly, but he knows what to say just about as much as I do.
Shaking my head, I post a smile on my face, praying it doesn't come across as manic as it feels. “Okay, so I'm just gonna go ahead and pretend my phone is ringing right now. Ring ring.” My voice cracks even as I joke. “Oh no, guess I'll have to leave all this awkwardness and go answer it.”
I turn then, walking as fast as I can without breaking into a run towards the stairwell, because I'm sure as heck not about to wait for the elevator with them still staring after me like that. Oh God, will they laugh at me after I've gone? No, that's ridiculous. Bambi, maybe. But Nash? No way. He would never laugh at me for something like this.
“Ivy!” he calls after me. He sounds broken. Undeniably broken.
I ignore him. Obviously I ignore him.
The second the stairwell door closes behind me I break into a run, clattering down the stairs in my heels until finally I reach the ground floor. I'm gasping for breath by then, but it has nothing to do with the exercise. Unable to go any further, I collapse in a heap on the bottom step.
And then I fall apart.
Chapter 21
Nash
Shock.
Shock is the main emotion that runs through my entire body, keeping me planted firmly in the doorway like a statue. I can't take my eyes away from the stairwell door, even though Ivy has long since vanished through it.
Is shock even an emotion? Or is it a feeling? Are they both the same thing?
Ivy loves me. Ivy's in love with me.
I'm so unbelievably torn right now. A big part of me wants to chase after her, to. . . Hell, I don't know. To do something. But the other part, the much bigger, cowardly part is too terrified to do so. Because it knows that if I chase after Ivy then. . .nothing will ever be the same again.
