Blue Balls

by RC Boldt

  “Well, yes. But more than that.” He leans in close, lowering his voice. “She found love.”

  Our gazes lock and hold until, finally, we both burst out laughing. “Flashdance references, Clint? Really?”

  He merely shrugs. “It was the best I could come up with on the spot.” He holds up a finger. “And I think it’s quite applicable.”

  Studying him, I ask. “What exactly are you saying I should do?”

  “Besides getting a unitard, some leg warmers, and dancing your ass off before dousing yourself with water?” he immediately responds.

  I blink. “Besides that.”

  “Give it your all. Put yourself out there. Because”—he lifts a shoulder slightly—“I think he has potential.” His lips curve into a shit-eating grin. “To be more than Mr. Blue Balls.”

  Before I can form a response, we’re interrupted, and Clint makes his way down the hallway to check on a patient. And I’m left with two things lingering in my mind.

  One, the idea of putting myself out there and giving things with Jack a chance.

  And two, that damn Flashdance song whose chorus includes something like “She’s a maniac on the floor” is on replay in my mind.

  * * *

  “Let me get this straight. You turned down a super sexy, sweet guy because he wanted to love you and have a relationship?” Maggie asks nonchalantly. Chopsticks in hand, she waves them at me. “Are you just semi-nuts or one hundred percent?”

  “Hey! What’s this about him being sexy?” Ry mutters, shooting his wife a hurt look before devouring another piece of sushi.

  My friends decided we needed a sushi dinner night out. I know what it really is, though.

  An intervention.

  Except I’m not an addict; I’m just a hot mess of emotions. Who knew I’d miss Jack so much? That I’d miss his text messages or his seemingly endless supply of chocolates? His humor? His smile? His kisses? The way his lips were so incredibly soft and tender when he—

  Whoa. What the hell? My mind is betraying me. Clearly.

  Maggie rolls her eyes, not even sparing a glance at Ry because she knows he’s messing with her. “Sarah, have you thought about this? Like really thought about it?” Concern is etched across her features.

  Suddenly losing my appetite, I toss down my chopsticks. “Of course,” I answer in heated exasperation. “I thought about it every single time my mother went above and beyond, trying to cater to a new man in hopes he’d stick around. I still think about it while she continues to do the same thing.”

  Maggie levels a look at me. “Do you care for Jack?”

  I eye her warily. “Of course, I care for him. I care for you and Ry and—”

  “Do you care for him as more than a friend?”

  My lips press thin, entire body tensing. “As someone I was intimate with, sure.”

  Maggie’s eyes narrow. “Not what I’m asking, and you know that.”

  Ry lets out a loud, exasperated breath, slapping down his chopsticks, and locks his eyes on me. “Do you get excited when he’s around? When you talk to him?” Leaning his forearms on the table where he sits across from me, he continues. “Do you get that little flutter of excitement when he smiles at you? Are you generally happier with him around?”

  I don’t answer immediately, mulling over his questions. “Flutter of excitement? Did you read that in one of Maggie’s magazines?”

  My flippant question meant to derail the line of uncomfortable questioning does nothing. Ry and Maggie stare back at me, stonewalling me.

  Covering my face with my hands, I let out a tiny groan. “Everyone’s against me, I swear.”

  “We’re not against you, Sarah.” Maggie’s response is immediate and gentle. “We care about you. That’s all it is.”

  “And Jack, too. We care about him,” adds Ry. “I mean, he was my fake boyfriend for about a year, so I kinda have—”

  “We care about both of you,” Maggie interrupts. “And we want you to be happy.”

  My hands slip from my face to shoot back in irritation, “But I am—”

  “No, you’re not,” Maggie and Ry say in unison.

  My lips part to argue, but they both hold up a hand to stop me. My sigh borders on petulant, but I don’t care. I don’t appreciate them ganging up on me. First Clint, and now these two.

  Maggie’s tone gentles. “You’re not happy, sweetie. We can all see that, and I know deep down that you realize it, too.”

  “I’ve met your mother, Sarah,” Ry offers, his expression sobering, “and while I adore her, you’re nothing like her.” He tips his head to the side, thoughtfully. “You’re ambitious, kind, fun, incredibly smart, and have a huge heart. A woman with all that going for her isn’t meant to be alone, drifting through life without attachments. A woman like you is meant to—”

  “Love and be loved,” Maggie chimes in as she and Ry finish together. Turning to one another in surprise, they laugh before their attention returns to me.

  Toying with my wooden chopsticks on the table, I murmur, “But what if Jack and I aren’t meant to be together? I mean”—my voice grows softer, more faint—“he did what my father did. He didn’t stick around. And he…let me leave.”

  I focus my gaze on the table, continuing to mess with my chopsticks when a large hand moves to cover mine. Raising my eyes to meet Ry’s somber gaze, I feel the warmth of his hand seep into my suddenly cold, clammy one.

  “You hurt one another. It takes time to get your mind right and get your feelings sorted. The question is, are you going to let him slip away? Would you be able to face him at some point when we all get together and meet his fiancée? His wife? To see him with his wife and kids?”

  My stomach clenches painfully at the thought of Jack marrying someone else. Of him having a life, having kids…without me.

  “The look on your face tells me all I need to know.” Ry’s hand squeezes mine before releasing his hold and drawing back. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

  Well, hell. That really is the million-dollar question. What am I going to do about it?

  I have no freaking clue.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Jack

  “New suit?”

  My head snaps up to find Ry standing in the doorway of my office. “Hey.” I glance at my watch, noting it’s before five, which is much earlier than he usually cuts out of work. “You’re out early today.”

  He shrugs, closing the door before walking over to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of my desk. Crossing a leg over the other, he leans back casually.

  Too casually. Which can only mean one thing.

  “You look handsome.” He grins at me, increasing my suspicions.

  “Stop hitting on me, cupcake. You’re married,” I scoff jokingly.

  My best friend releases a dramatic sigh. “I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for you.”

  Shaking my head derisively, I click the mouse to save my latest notes on the computer. “What can I do for you?”

  “I was trying to figure something out.” Again, Ry’s somber expression sends up red flags. “Would you be cool with going to dinner with us some night next week?”

  My brow furrows in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with having dinner with you and Maggie? We’ve done dinner a million times.”

  “I didn’t say only me and Maggie.”

  Ah. He wants to know if Sarah and I can be civil around one another…

  “I meant me and Maggie along with Sarah and her date.”

  Everything stills, my breath hitches, and I have to work hard to swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. My voice comes out sounding hoarse, my response far from the nonchalance I’m trying for. “Date?”

  Ry stretches his arms up and laces his fingers behind his head. “Yeah. She’s seeing this new guy…”

  I spring out of my desk chair, rushing over to the large windows overlooking the busy street below. Spinning around, I stare at my friend. “We just… It�
�s only been…” I sputter in disbelief. “She’s seeing someone?”

  He simply stares back at me, not answering.

  My vision blurs as I turn to face the windows, and a dozen different memories flit through my mind. Sarah’s spunkiness, her smile, her laugh. Holding her when she needed me. Her kiss. Her touch.

  “Fuck,” I mutter quietly, bracing both palms flat against the cool, flat surface of the window.

  “Hey.”

  “Yeah?” I don’t bother turning because if I thought it was fucking painful to watch Sarah leave me over a week ago, the idea of her dating twists my stomach up in tenuous knots.

  “I was just testing the waters.”

  It takes a moment for Ry’s words to sink in. My head whips around, and I stare at my best friend.

  The best friend I might end up punching in the throat.

  “You what?”

  His lips curve up at the corners. “Just testing the waters to see if you’re as torn up about things as she is.”

  “You’re an assh—Wait.” My head tips to the side. “She’s torn up?”

  Rising from his seat, Ry rakes a hand through his hair. “You two just had to be hardheaded, didn’t you?”

  My eyes narrow. “Funny, but I seem to recall you wallowing on my couch at one stage,” I point out.

  He heaves out a sigh. “Are you going to get your shit together or what?”

  I clench and unclench my jaw, attempting composure. “She made it clear what she wants and, more importantly, what she doesn’t want.”

  “And you’re going to let it go at that?” Ry’s features take on a sudden intensity as he steps toward me. “You and I both know you wouldn’t have let that fly with me when I had the fallout with Mags.”

  My eyes lock with his, holding it for a long beat before I avert my gaze. Running a hand through my hair in frustration, I gesture with the other. “What the hell can I do?”

  “Do you love her?”

  Meeting his gaze, I nod, and he tosses out, “Even if she gives you a near constant case of blue balls?” I nod again. Ry rubs his hands together, his eyes alit with excitement. “Well, then, we’ve got some brainstorming to do.”

  An hour later, Ry and I find ourselves sitting at my conference table. Pushing away from my laptop after one final entry, we look at one another.

  “Finally,” he says.

  For the first time since Sarah walked out my door, I feel the start of a smile. “Finally, we have a plan.” Tossing my best friend a look, I have to ask, “You think it’ll work?”

  “Without a doubt,” he affirms, nodding with a grin. “Mark my words, Mr. Blue Balls will be getting the girl.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Sarah

  “You look like someone on one of those Skittles commercials. All happy and bright with color.”

  I pin Clint with a sharp look. “Seriously?” I forgot to do laundry and am wearing a set of the more colorful scrubs I wore while in school, working my rotation in pediatrics.

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Well, with that kind of attitude, you’ll be like the ‘before’ part of a Snickers commercial. Sheesh.”

  “Clint,” I say on an exhale, checking the time. “I’m about to end my shift.”

  “You’re implying I should cut you some slack? Be nicer? Maybe give you some chocolate since you ran out unexpectedly?” His eyebrows rise in question.

  Releasing a groan, I frown. “I swore I had plenty.”

  Cocking an eyebrow, he flashes me a secretive smile. “How much would you love me if I told you I had some for you?”

  Immediately, I pounce on him, my hands dipping into his back pockets in search of my fix. “I can’t believe you’re holding out on me,” I say accusingly.

  Clint grasps my wrists and tugs me away from him, staring at me incredulously. “Jesus, Matthews. You’re like a junkie.” Steering me a step away from him, he holds up his hands and eyes me. “Stay there.”

  He reaches into his front pocket, and I’d like to say I wouldn’t have gone there, but I’ve not experienced a desperation for my chocolate fix quite like this.

  And if I’m being completely honest, I have to admit I think of Jack every time I eat one of them.

  When Clint withdraws two foil-wrapped treats from his pocket, I snatch them from him like a junkie about to get their fix. My fingers begin to peel the foil back when his voice stops me.

  “What? No thank you?”

  My eyes rise to his, and I give him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Clint.”

  Removing the chocolate from the foil, I bring it to my lips just as I look at the message on the inside of the wrapper. My hand freezes an inch away from my mouth as I stare down at the wrapper in confusion.

  Give yourself up to love.

  Huh. This one is unlike their usual messages, but maybe they’re adding variety. Mentally shrugging, I take a bite, only to have it fill my mouth with its sweet goodness and remind me of him.

  Damn it.

  Finally, I register that Clint’s still standing there, watching me with an odd expression. “What?” I ask cautiously.

  “Any fun message on the inside?” His eyes flick down to the foil wrapper in my hand before they return to mine.

  Suspicion rolls through me because Clint never asks about the messages. Wordlessly, I hand over the small square foil and try to gauge his reaction as he reads it.

  His gaze meets mine, and the corners of his lips curve upward. “You should follow through on this one.”

  “Right,” I scoff. “Because I normally take advice from chocolate wrappers.” Turning, I head to the hall leading to the room housing our lockers. His hand on my arm stops me, his brown eyes thoughtful.

  “Don’t forget to check the other wrapper, too.”

  I nod, eyeing him oddly…because I always read them. And he knows that. “Catch you later.”

  It’s not until much later that evening that it registers how odd it was that Clint doesn’t prefer those particular chocolates, yet he had two on him.

  For me.

  * * *

  Love might not come easy, but it’s always worth it.

  “Home sweet home,” I mutter to myself, unlocking my apartment door. The message on the second wrapper kept me distracted on the entire ride home.

  It’s eerily quiet as I close the door and lean back against it with a weary sigh. Maybe I should get a pet. Something that doesn’t require much attention due to my long shifts. Then it wouldn’t be so god-awful lonely to come home to an empty apartment.

  And no, it doesn’t escape me that it’s never bothered me before. I never really cared about coming home to a quiet, empty home before …

  “Jack,” I breathe out on a wisp. Simply saying his name aloud causes the pinching in my chest to increase painfully.

  I still haven’t found the nerve to talk to him. Because, really. How does one even go about saying, “Hey, um, remember when you basically professed your love for me, and I practically left skid marks on the floor trying to get away from you? Well, I’ve changed my mind. I really do love you.”

  Trying to shake off my funky mood, I kick off my shoes and walk into the apartment, ready to set my bag on the kitchen chair.

  Except I don’t make it that far.

  My keys and bag drop to the floor with a loud thud. Transfixed, I stare at the sight around me.

  Vases cover every possible flat surface of my kitchen and living room. And I’d recognize the flowers that fill them anywhere.

  Blue balls.

  Arrangements of the pitifully plain blue flowers decorate my kitchen counters, kitchen table, end tables beside my couch, and the coffee table. Blue balls are everywhere, on every available surface.

  It’s a massive allergy attack waiting to happen…and the sweetest thing I’ve ever come home to in my entire life.

  I notice the largest arrangement on my coffee table has a small florist’s envelope clipped to it, drawing my attention to it. Dozens upon dozens of foi
l-wrapped chocolates are scattered on my coffee table, but three in particular are propped up against the vase.

  Stepping closer, I carefully tug the envelope free and pull out the small card.

  Please read the messages of these three chocolates first, Sunshine.

  With trembling fingers, my heart feeling as though it’s about to burst from my chest, I set the card down and pick up one chocolate, unwrapping it and setting the chocolate on the surface of the table.

  If I could, I’d go back and fight for you.

  My breathing stutters, and I immediately reach for the next chocolate, unwrapping it hurriedly.

  I never got to tell you how much I love you. I hope I get a chance.

  Moving to the third chocolate, I don’t realize I have tears streaming down my face until one drops onto the foil.

  You are my Sunshine. Still. Always. Forever.

  The vibrating sound coming from my bag alerts me that my phone is ringing. With my heart in my throat, still grasping the foil wrapper, I dig through my purse for my phone. The screen is alit with the person’s name I’ve ached to see over the past two weeks.

  Swiping my thumb across the screen to accept the call, I place it at my ear. “Jack.” My voice comes out sounding breathless.

  “Sunshine.” That one word, that deep, husky voice filled with such emotion washes over me, warming me through and through.

  “You did this for me?” I ask in disbelief. Wiping at another tear trickling down my cheek, I fix my eyes on the sight of all those chocolates wrapped in what must be custom-made wrappers.

  “I’d do anything for you,” he answers immediately. “But I do have to warn you…” I swear I can hear the smile in his voice. “After a while, my creativity waned.”

  Now curious, I walk over and pick another chocolate from the random pile, unwrapping it quickly in anticipation of reading the message.

  I’d give anything to get FaceTimed by your vagina again.

  Laughter bubbles up, bursting free. “You want to FaceTime my vagina again, huh?”

  “If you had to come up with dozens of messages, you’d get pretty desperate, too.” I detect the sheepishness in his voice.