by Staci Hart
So I turned the page and stared at the blue lines until they were blurry.
I would see Patrick tonight, and I had to give him an answer. There wouldn’t be time for a conversation with Lily. I had to decide on my own.
I wrote two word in the top margin: PROS and CONS.
Then I chewed on the end of my pen for a really long time.
Personally, the pros were few. Maybe more naked chest. I wouldn’t really have to see him, if he kept up the sneaking like he had been. He wasn’t really hurting anything. Not really.
There was really only one con, but it was too real.
I don’t trust myself around him.
As much as I liked to pretend that I was completely over Patrick, the truth was that I missed him. I missed my friend. I missed the man who’d woken me with a kiss and left me with a smile. I missed his touch. His words. His presence.
But I wasn’t allowed to miss him. Not after he dumped me and brought the hottest girl I’d ever seen to my bar when I was working. And then he tried to backpedal. He was sorry, he’d said. He begged me to see that he’d made a mistake.
The hurt was indescribable. He was right. He’d made a mistake, but there was no way I’d open myself up to him again, and that’s exactly what I told him, just before I told him to get out.
We’d never spoken of it again.
It was weeks before I even made eye contact with him.
Why so cold, you ask? Isn’t he so damaged and beautiful and sorry? And the answer is yes, he is. But he hurt me deeply enough that I knew there was no way I’d let it go. There was no way to fix us, not with that amount of baggage on both sides.
See, I don’t do a lot of third chances. You read that right. You want a do-over, you get one and only one. If Patrick had come back to me before Veronica and changed his mind, I would have welcomed him with open arms. Granted, I would have been more wary the second time, but I would have taken him back in a heartbeat. In fact, I felt deep down that he’d come back to me. But then he paraded a girl in front of me not twenty-four hours after we’d broken up.
There are things I’ll forgive, but that humiliation is not one of them. And being cold was the only way to insulate my broken heart.
I glanced back over my list, realizing that I didn’t have a single reason to say no, nothing that I could stand up on, at least. It wasn’t my room. It wasn’t my bed. So I could put my feelings in the backseat and be a grown up about it, rather than saying no just because he made me itchy.
I closed my notebook with a sigh, feeling better only because I’d made a decision. The decision itself was another thing entirely, but my mind was quiet enough that I was able to pick up my book again, throwing myself into the escape of the story. At least that would have a happy ending.
Mercifully, I wasn’t chosen for the jury, and I made my way home through rush hour traffic, grateful that I didn’t have a normal job. Bodies packed into the train, wall to wall, some fortunate enough to have a seat, the rest of us doomed to stand next to each other, in a space that smelled of metal and people, avoiding eye contact at all costs. The doors opened and closed at each stop, and streams of people poured in and out before we’d move again.
By the time I was climbing the stairs of my building, my mood had reached an epically sour, smelly state. I had an hour before Patrick would be over, so I could at least change and maybe have a drink before I had that conversation. I felt a little better at the thought, though I still grumbled as I unlocked my door and dropped my purse, closing the door a little harder than I meant to.
Patrick popped off the couch, and my hand flew to my chest, eyes wide. “Jesus, Tricky!”
He yawned and rubbed his smooth jaw, seemingly unaffected. “Sorry. You said you wanted to talk, so here I am.”
I fumed as I kicked off my shoes, taking a deep breath to vent the heat. “I thought you said you were off at six?”
“My last appointment canceled.” He looked apologetic. And gorgeous. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine.”
He moved to the end of the couch, waiting for me to sit next to him, so I did, despite my crawling nerves and thumping heart. I caught a whiff of him, the clean smell of soap and laundry, and found myself leaning in to breathe him deeper.
I course-corrected, turning so my back was against the armrest as I eyed that pretty bastard, wishing I wasn’t in this position. “All right. Here’s the deal.”
He relaxed a hair, which irritated me for some reason.
I tried not to scowl. “I can’t think of a single reason why you can’t stay here, so I feel like I should say yes.”
He nodded, looking a little less comfortable at my phrasing.
“Lily’s obviously fine with it, and it’s her bed and her room. I’ll agree to it, but I have three conditions.”
Patrick shifted. “Let’s have it.”
“Try to be gone or asleep while I’m here, okay? I don’t want to worry about whether or not I have a bra on, or if I’m going to walk in on you in the john.”
He smirked. “All right.”
“No moving your stuff in. You sleep here, that’s it. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“We’re not roommates, okay? So no —” I waved a hand as I thought about how to phrase it. “I don’t know. Bonding, or whatever. Just be a ghost.”
He nodded. “Consider me invisible.”
I sighed, hoping this wasn’t going to be a huge disaster. You can do this. It’s fine. Totally fine. Boundaries are defined. “So, that’s that. I’m meeting up with Lily in a bit and need to change. If I don’t get out of these clothes, I’m going to freak out.”
He smirked, and my eyes narrowed.
I pointed at him. “Don’t crack a bad joke, Tricky.”
Patrick put up his hands. “Who, me? Never.” He smiled, and the urge to slap him crept in. Slap him and then kiss him for being charming when I wanted to hate him. “So, I know I’m invisible and all, but I hang out here for the cable regardless. Is that still allowed if we’re not,” he made a hand gesture like I had earlier, “bonding?”
“Fine,” I answered, doing my best to not make it sound like one of those other F-words before standing to make my way to my room.
“Rose?” he called after me.
I turned. “Yeah?”
His eyes burned hot on mine, blazing and intense. I don’t think he even knew he was doing it — he just existed in a constant state of smolder. “Thanks.”
I smiled, hoping my knees weren’t about to buckle under the weight of his stare. And then I cranked up the freezer. “You’re welcome.”
Getting out of that room became priority one. I tried not to hurry away, letting out another heavy breath as soon as my bedroom door was closed and there was sheetrock and timber between us.
Priority two was getting the polyester off my body.
Seriously — I never wanted to work in a profession where I had to keep the words “slacks” and “blouses” in my fashion vocabulary. I folded the dark pants and button down neatly. They were a little wrinkled — our closets are so small, there’s no way to hang anything up in there, not really. But there was no way in hell I would have ever been convinced to iron that morning.
Lily and I were going to Habits, my home away from home, one of my favorite places to hang out, even though I worked there. Some people hate going to work when they’re not working, but Habits was never like that for me. Maybe it’s the vibe. Maybe there’s some magic about the bar that made me feel like I was somewhere I belonged. Either way, I never minded.
I had no intention of dressing up for the occasion, especially since I knew I’d be peeling Lily’s grape. So I pulled on a pair of black leggings covered in what looked like bleach spots, a black V-neck, and my favorite flannel. Cotton. Glorious cotton and elastic waists as far as the eye could see.
I sat at the foot of my bed and stuffed my feet into my combat boots, sighing as I pulled my hair back to get it off my neck.
That’s better.
I felt a little more like myself when I walked out of my room, beelining for my bag as I tried to avoid eye contact with Patrick.
“Have fun,” he said, his voice deep and velvety.
I grabbed my bag and pretended to look for something. “Don’t sit too close to the TV or you’ll ruin your eyes.”
He chuckled.
“See you later, Tricky,” I said politely and left the apartment before I made it any more awkward.
Three steps down the hall, I remembered that I was pissed at Lily — I’d been too distracted by Patrick. In half a dozen more steps, I was banging on the door as a warning before opening it with a scowl on my face, ready to blow.
Lily sat in West’s lap in the armchair, long legs slung over the side, arms around his neck. They seemed to just be talking — talking and smiling and looking absolutely perfect. Which they were. We all knew they would be perfect together, and long before they realized it.
My anger abated at the sight of them together. Not entirely, but enough that I felt more wry and less stabby.
“Hey, asshole,” I said, mostly to Lily, as I closed the door firmly. “You ready to go? Because I’m pretty sure you owe me a drink or nine.”
Her cheeks flushed as she looked up at me. “I mean, if that’ll make it better, I’ll buy you a bottle.” She turned her attention back to West just long enough for them to share a simple kiss and a lingering look before she stood.
“You mad at us, Rosie?” West said with that easy smile of his.
I flipped him off, and he chuckled.
“Aw, you know we mean well.”
“Which is exactly why I only shot you the bird instead of shooting you in the face.”
He snickered.
Lily sighed grabbed her bag. “Come look for me if I haven’t texted in an hour. There’s no guarantee she’s not still packing heat.”
I rolled my eyes. “I hate you.”
“Lies.” She waved at West, and we stepped out into the hallway. “So,” she started, overly cheery, “how mad are you? On a scale of one to homicide?”
I shot her a look. “Somewhere between maiming and dismemberment.”
“Well, then things could be worse,” she joked, but her smile slipped. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him sleeping there.”
“I mean, what the fuck, Lil?”
“Well, we thought you’d—”
“Yeah, yeah. You thought I’d freak out, right? Well, here we are, and I’ll tell you this freakout is way worse than the freakout I’d have had if you’d asked me.”
“But you would have said no, and he needed rest, you know?”
“Well, maybe you could stop banging like monkeys all night long so he could sleep.”
She put her hands up as we walked down the stairs. “Seriously, we aren’t that loud. And anyway, why does it matter if he sleeps there?”
“Because it does. I mean, what was your endgame? Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?”
She wrinkled her nose and sniffed. “I dunno. He pulled it off for a month.”
I made a noncommittal noise.
“I kind of hoped you’d be okay with it.”
“I mean, Jesus. You should have just gotten me drunk and convinced me to do it. At least then I wouldn’t have tried to pistol-whip him with your vibrator.”
She busted out laughing, and I couldn’t help it — I laughed too.
“Fuck, it really was ridiculous. His eyes looked like freaking pool balls.” I peeled my eyelids open and stuck my face in Lily’s.
She was still laughing as she pulled open the building door. “I would have paid money to see that.”
“I kind of wish I’d hit him. Give him a big ol’ mushroom stamp right on the forehead. Bam.” I slapped my hands together.
Lily breathed out, trying not to giggle anymore. “God. I really am sorry I didn’t tell you.”
I shrugged. “Whatever. It’s done now, and you were right about my reaction.”
“What’d you end up telling him?”
“What else could I say? I told him he could stay and gave him some ground rules. Which he actually immediately broke by asking me if he could stay and watch TV,” I realized.
“Well, it’s not like that’s a new thing.”
“I know, but I don’t want to hang out with him, dude. I need him away from me.”
Lily nodded and said “Right,” like she didn’t mean it.
I shot her a look. “What?”
“Nothing.” Her voice was a little high. “I mean, keeping away from him hasn’t really done you any favors, but you know what’s best for you.”
My eyes narrowed. “Ugh, don’t get all passive-aggressive on me. Just say what you mean.”
She shrugged. “I’m just saying maybe you’ll get over it if you’re around each other, that’s all.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, right. Just get over it. Sure.”
“Anyway, new topic, since this one is obviously sore and worn out. How was jury duty?”
“About as fun as I’d imagine stapling my lips together would be,” I said as we walked toward Habits. “At least I didn’t get picked.”
She nodded. “Bright sides. I like it.”
“What have you guys been doing all day?”
“Nothing. It’s been amazing. Is it weird that I never really got why people took vacations?”
I gave her a flat look. “Yes.”
She chuckled. “I mean, theoretically, I get it, but all I’ve ever known is dance, twenty-four-seven, ever since I can remember. Plus, I’ve just never had anyone to really go with, to share it with.”
I flagged a hand. “Uh, hello? Chopped liver, nice to meet you.”
She laughed again. “Right, because you always go on vacation.”
I shrugged. “I’m just saying. I would have gone with you.”
“Well, thank you for that. Good to know.”
I laughed and bumped her arm.
“Anyway, it’s given West and me a ton of time to hang out.”
I smiled at her. “God, you’re such a mush.”
“I know,” she beamed. “It’s so weird. Like, he was my best friend—”
I gave her another look.
“—Besides you—”
“Thank you.”
“—But it’s like I didn’t really know him. Not like I do now.”
I snorted. “Oh, like on the biblical level?”
She flushed. “I mean that, obviously, but just … I don’t know. All of him. Everything is different and the same, like I unlocked something in him and he did in me. Does that make sense?”
My smile this time was knowing, though I knew it held a hint of sadness. “It does.”
“But, I mean, the biblical level is pretty rad in itself. Definitely not the worst thing ever.”
“Ha. I’m sure, especially given the fact that you get all porno every night. Tricky can’t even handle your super loud fuckery anymore.”
She made a stinky face. “That’s awkward.”
My eyebrows climbed. “Well, maybe if you two brought it down a notch, I wouldn’t have my ex begging me to sleep in your old room.”
She looked down her nose at me dramatically. “Look, we have needs, and those needs must be fulfilled. I can’t say I’m sorry for that. It really does suck for Tricky, but I don’t care if he sleeps in my bed as long as you’re okay with it. I’m not using it.”
I gave her a hard what-the-fuck stare.
“What?” she asked like I was the crazy one. “I mean, sure, he’s your ex, but it’s not like you guys aren’t still friends.”
“Can we put that in air quotes? Because I don’t really feel like we’re legit friends. I feel like ‘we’re friends who dated and ruined everything but are still trying to be friends, except it’s bullshit.’”
“That’s a really long title. I’m not calling you that.”
My pause was heavy, my words quiet. “It’s a big deal,
and you know it.”
She nodded. “I know. I just wish it wasn’t.” We walked in silence for a moment. “Honestly, I think it’ll be good for you two. I think you just need to push past the awkward I-miss-your-junk phase and get to the we-cool phase.”
I thought about it for a beat. “Maybe you’re right.”
She looked pleased with herself. “Of course I’m right. I’m the queen of right.”
I smiled slyly and stood a little taller. “I know just how to get out of the I-miss-your-junk phase.”
“Oh?” Her brow raised.
“I just need to find myself some new junk to worship.”
She cackled. “I just pictured you doing hoodoo over a dick shrine.”
“I told you to stop going through my things. You’re so nosey.”
The cackle turned into a sort of sheepy noise.
I snorted. “Oh, my God. You sound like you belong in a barn.”
She pushed me in the arm. “Takes one to know one. Your donkey laugh takes the cake.”
I pushed her back. “I don’t have a donkey laugh.”
“Do too.” She pointed at me. “I’m getting you whiskey drunk and recording it so I can blackmail you with it. Anyway, I think it’s adorable.” She pinched my cheek. “So, do I hear this right? You’re going to start dating?”
I shrugged. “Why not? Maybe that’ll help me un-jam.”
She shimmied her shoulders as we approached the bar. “Oh, I’m sure you can find someone to help you un-jam.”
“Man, you’re on a roll.” I pulled open the door for her.
“Well, you keep setting me up,’ she said with a shrug. “So, what, are you going to get on Tinder and just look for a sausage stack?”
“When you say it like that, how could I not?” Nothing about the statement was enthusiastic.
She rolled her eyes as we walked through the bar. “I don’t know, Rose. I skipped the whole dating thing. I just know it’s impossible to meet people in New York, so online dating makes sense, even if it’s like the Wild West.”
I waved at Shelby as we passed, pointing to the back tables. “I’m a bartender, so it’s not like I don’t get hit on, but it’s too close to home or something. I don’t want someone to know where I work before our first date, you know? Like, what if he’s a creep? Then he can stalk me at work where I can’t get away from him.”
