I Have Never (A Laugh Out Loud Romantic Comedy)

by Camilla Isley

  My body is taking over in a way I’ve never experienced. This man has melted my brain. My heart is beating so fast I’m afraid I might pass out. But what if this is a huge mistake? Richard is still my boss.

  “Are you sure you want this?” I breathe, my ribcage bobbing up and down convulsively.

  “Walker”—his teeth find my earlobe—“we reached the point of no return a while ago.”

  Yeah, agreed.

  Richard bends slightly and swings an arm behind my knees, lifting me up and carrying me to the bedroom.

  There, on his bed, we make love. I’m confident we’re not just having sex. Yes, it’s sensual, and heated… but if he does not say so in words, the way Richard looks at me tells me everything. I’ve never made love keeping my eyes open, but with Richard, it seems impossible to close them.

  ***

  Joy. Indecent bliss. Never have I ever felt so good in my life. I roll over the bed, only to crash-land on hard muscle.

  I blink. “Mmm, I remember this room…”

  Richard brushes a strand of hair off my face. “Hope this time you remember why you’re here.”

  Oh, I so do. Flashes of last night make me blush.

  “I see that you do.” Richard grabs my hand and kisses the tips of my fingers.

  “I might need a little reminder.”

  “Careful what you wish for…”

  I giggle as Richard throws the blankets away and his lips start their magic again…

  In a fog of passion and burning emotions, the rest of the day is spent in bed. We only leave to take Chevron for a very short walk. I can’t stop smiling and feeling all dreamy and happy and, well… sated.

  Saturday night, we attempt to leave Richard’s apartment to get some dinner. But it’s a stupid mistake. We get seated and we order like two normal people would. But then we start this flirtatious eye game, which evolves in us casually touching each other’s arms or legs, until we’re kissing—ahem, making out in the restaurant like two teenagers. By the time the food arrives, Richard asks for everything to be boxed. He pays the bill and we’re back at his house and in bed less than an hour after we left.

  ***

  Sunday evening is when the bubble of happiness bursts. The pin comes in the form of an ominous suggestion from Richard. It happens in the late afternoon while we’re drinking tea on the couch, my bare legs in his lap and Chevron lying quietly on the living room rug.

  I’m admiring Richard’s naked chest—he’s wearing only sweatpants—when my fit watch sends me a pulsing notification I’ve been lying down for too long. A pretty common occurrence in the past two days. Out of habit, I check the time. Already so late. I wish I could stay in Richard’s apartment wearing only one of his T-shirts forever. But I can’t. I drop my empty mug on the coffee table and sigh. “Chevron,” I say, patting her head. “Time to go.”

  “Already?” Richard protests. “It’s only five!”

  “Yeah, but by the time we get to Manhattan it’ll be late, and tomorrow is going to be busy. If you haven’t noticed, we made quite a splash Friday.”

  “Stay longer, I can give you a ride…”

  As tempting as the offer is…

  “We’ve been in bed for two days,” I say, blushing. “I could use the walk. And you’ll see us both tomorrow morning at the office, anyway.”

  “Speaking of the office.” Richard’s expression switches from a relaxed smile to a slight frown. “It’d be better if we kept this quiet, at least for now.”

  A chill runs down my spine. Sure, I’d had the same thought. Not wanting to have everyone else at work involved in my private life and gossiping seems like a good idea on the surface. But hearing Richard voice the same concern sets off a million alarm bells in my head. Why does he want to keep it quiet? To protect our privacy? To give us time to figure out our feelings before anyone else gets involved? Or would keeping the relationship hidden only make it easier to break off?

  I want to reply that it’s okay. Tell him I understand. I want to, but find I can’t. After almost forty-eight hours spent naked, I’m less lost in a whirlwind of lust and able to pause long enough to question what’s happening.

  “Why keep it quiet?” I ask.

  “It’d be awkward if the others knew about us.”

  Us. What does that even mean? I know I’m supposed to play cool, not make demands after such a short time. To let things evolve on their own so as not to scare him away. It’s acknowledged dating wisdom. Yet, there’s a new fire burning within me that simply won’t let me play by the rules.

  I fold my legs and sit straighter. “For them, or for you?”

  Clinginess taints my voice and I hate myself for it.

  “For everyone, including you.”

  “Come on, Richard. We don’t work in that kind of place. Everyone would just be happy for us.”

  The afterglow vaporizes from his face, replaced by a tense grimace. “Maybe, but what if I’m not ready to share my private life with all my employees?”

  “Indira seems to always know who you’re dating.”

  “Yes, but this is different.”

  “I would certainly hope so.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That if you’re only looking for another two-week relationship, I’m not interested.”

  “So what are you interested in?”

  “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

  “Calm down. Why are you getting so worked up?”

  The answer comes from my twisting guts before I can even form a rational thought. And since I’ve no gut-to-mouth filters, I yell, “Because I’m in love with you!”

  The silence that follows this impromptu declaration is so tense that even Chevron lifts her head to check on us. Richard is staring at me with that deer-in-the-headlights expression. Well, “terrorized to death” wasn’t exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Tears prick my eyes and I have to blink fast to hold them back. Still, Richard isn’t speaking.

  “Don’t worry,” I say, getting up. “You don’t have to say it back.”

  Coward, I add in my head. I know you feel the same.

  I can’t stand to look at his terrified expression for a second longer, so I dart for the bedroom. I manage to throw on the essentials before Richard comes in. Admittedly, having this argument wearing only a lacy bra and panties is hardly any better.

  “What do you want from me?” he asks.

  “Guess.”

  “What, love?” He scoffs. “A wedding proposal? You want the house with the white fence, the three kids, and a dog in the yard?”

  “I already have a dog!” I scream. “And what’s wrong with wanting any of that? What if my dream is to get married and have a family?”

  “Well, that’s not my dream.”

  “Isn’t it? Or are you too afraid to admit it is, even to yourself, because your dream already got shattered once.”

  “This has nothing to do with that… don’t throw my past in my face as an excuse for me not agreeing with your cloud nine attitude.”

  “Are you sure? Seems to me you hide a lot behind that past.”

  “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “No, I do. You’re the clueless one.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I told you I’m in love with you and you lost the ability to speak.”

  Richard stands there, gaping. Again, not a word.

  I grab my pants and slide them on. “There you go again.”

  “Blair.” He takes a few steps toward me and places one hand on each of my shoulders. “You’re overreacting.”

  “No, Richard.” I shove his hands away and grab my blouse. “You’re underreacting!”

  “Underreacting? What does that even mean?”

  Finally dressed, I do a frantic scan of the room to locate all my scattered possessions. I t
oss everything in the duffel bag and put on my gym shoes. Ready to leave, I turn toward him. “It means that I just told you ‘I love you’ and I deserve to hear more back than a never ending silence.”

  Again, silence is all he gives me.

  I push past him and storm out of the bedroom. In the living room, I hook Chevron to her leash. Richard hasn’t followed me. Oh, no, he prefers to stay hidden. Easier that way. Bastard. Asshole. Coward. Tears blur my vision at last. I wait a few more seconds for him to come out. He doesn’t. With my heart shattering, I dash out of the apartment, banging the door behind me as hard as I can.

  For the entire walk home, I keep looking over my shoulder hoping to see a silver car following us. Every time a car passes us, my heart jolts in my chest. But it’s never Richard. I make my way toward Manhattan, sobbing uncontrollably. So much so that a few people stop me to ask if I need help. I turn away the kind strangers, explaining it’s only a problem of the heart. Only. Why is it that I’m more heartbroken after a two-night stand than I was over a three-year relationship? Is this what love does to you? If that’s it, I hope I can fall out of it as quickly as I fell in.

  Nineteen

  Never Stress Eat

  A few hours later, Nikki arrives home to find me in a state of utter misery. I’m on the couch, in my PJs, surrounded by used Kleenex, and eating ice cream.

  My best friend takes in the scene and is at my side at once. “What happened to you?” She takes the bowl of ice cream from me to sniff it, and her nostrils flare. “Is this real ice cream?”

  I nod.

  “Industrial, processed ice cream?”

  I nod again.

  “No soy?”

  I shake my head.

  “Dairy?”

  Nod.

  “Saturated fats?”

  I make a wimpy sound.

  “Ah.” Nikki places the bowl out of reach and drops onto the couch next to me. “I thought you’d spent the weekend with the boss…”

  I stare at her with big eyes, trying to transmit telepathically what happened because saying it aloud is too painful.

  She catches my vibes at once. “And before the day was over, you asked him where you stood…”

  Nod.

  “He freaked out.”

  Nod.

  “You went on the defensive and lashed out.”

  Whimper.

  “Richard got mad, too, the argument escalated, you both became petty, hurt each other as much as you could until you stormed out of his house, banging the door behind you. How am I doing?”

  I drop my face into my hands and shake my head.

  “Awhooo,” Chevron comments.

  Nikki sighs. “And all this in front of the dog?”

  Face still hidden, I nod.

  “The poor thing is traumatized.”

  I give her a look of desperation.

  “Come on,” Nikki pulls me into a hug. “Everything will be all right.”

  “How?”

  “You two just have to talk.”

  I snort. “Yeah, because Richard is so good at expressing his feelings.”

  “Give him time. You ambushed him when he wasn’t ready. You should’ve let him get more used to you.”

  “I know I was supposed to wait. But what if I don’t want to? What if I want to tell him how I feel when I feel it? Why is that so wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. But it’s wrong to expect Richard to be on the same page right away. Give him some time.”

  “Oh, he has all the time in the world.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’m not taking another step toward him. Not one.”

  “So you’re just going to pretend the past forty-eight hours didn’t happen?”

  “Exactly. If Richard changes his mind, he knows where to find me.”

  ***

  Monday morning, I put on a brave face and go to the office. I wear a simple blouse, black capris, and sneakers to be switched with wedges in Brooklyn. Because Richard doesn’t like wedges. I don’t want to spark any extra tension, sexual or otherwise. I just want to get through the day, ignore him, and be ignored back.

  I sit at my desk, bend my head low, and will myself to stare at my screen and just my screen. I don’t even blink when Richard walks in. He supplies a generic, “Hello,” that leaves me free enough not to reply, and then moves on to his office without a second glance in my direction. At least from what I can tell using only my peripheral vision.

  So he’s going for an avoidance strategy, too. Very well! I am the queen of avoidance, I can keep my silent treatment going for weeks if I want to.

  Mon, June 12 at 8:37 AM @PinkPanther has logged in

  R u mad at the boss?

  I guess not everyone is willing to ignore me though.

  Mon, June 12 at 8:38 AM @PoshSpice you are now logged in

  I don’t want to talk about it

  We’re not talking

  Okay

  I don’t want to talk

  Write

  Or even think about it

  ???

  Leave it alone

  No can do

  Please let it go

  I might start crying

  And I’d really rather not

  Oh!

  Yeah, oh!

  You slept together

  I’m logging off

  I was wrong

  And she’s successfully baited me into asking…

  About what?

  The boss being a lost cause

  No, you weren’t

  Yes, I was

  It's clear from the way he keeps looking at you

  (every five seconds)

  A dart hits my heart. Hope? Fear? Love? All three? I don’t know. But I don’t have the luxury of indulging in false expectations. Richard has made it clear where he stands. His fear comes before his feelings and that’s not going to change no matter what I do.

  He’s probably just mad

  We had a big argument

  That’s not the face of a “mad man”

  Even if he could pass for a younger Jon Hamm

  Not in the mood for jokes

  I wasn’t joking

  The boss isn’t mad

  What is he then?

  Terrified

  That he is for sure.

  And how's that better?

  He’s terrified because he cares

  Doesn’t matter if he doesn’t care

  Or if he’s terrified he does care

  The bottom line stays the same

  We aren’t happening

  Give it time

  He’ll come around

  Have you read the column?

  No

  Read the column

  Whatever

  Don’t you have any work to do?

  All right Miss Crabby McCranky…

  Talk to you later

  Mon, June 12 at 9:26 AM @PinkPanther has logged off

  I log off for real this time. It took all my willpower not to open that damn column over breakfast this morning, and now Indira is making my resolve crumble. I can read a column. It wouldn’t be like talking to him. It’s only words on the screen. I mean, what harm could come from it? Before I second-guess myself, I click on the magazine’s homepage and open the column.

  Someone Once Told Me

  by Richard Stratton

  Last night I couldn’t rest. Unable to sit still in my apartment with only my thoughts as companions, I went for a walk... and I met Sally.

  Sally? Another woman? A sharp pain in my chest makes me swallow as my mouth goes dry with fear. I grab my water bottle and chug a good half before I can bring my eyes back to the screen.

  No, my name is not Harry, and this isn’t a romantic story.

  Utter relief.

  Sally is a woman in her late fifties, who has been living on the streets of Brooklyn for the better part of ten years, and who could easily
pass for a seventy–year–old with her white hair and weathered features.

  On a regular day, I would’ve passed Sally without even noticing her.

  Not last night.

  Someone once told me how easily homeless people disappear in the eyes of passers–by, almost becoming invisible. And how surprised I’d be if I stopped for a minute to hear the stories these people have to share.

  So I stopped.

  I asked Sally what her favorite sandwich was and what she wanted to drink. I bought a meal for both of us and we ate it together sitting on a bench in the park.

  And Sally told me her story...

  Not one of drugs or alcohol abuse, abandonment, or delinquency. Simply the story of a business investment gone terribly wrong, and Sally’s inability to get back on her feet after she lost everything.

  I keep reading the details of how Sally invested all her money in a business that ran profitably for fifteen years before she had to file for bankruptcy, losing not only the business but everything else she had, too. But it is the conclusion of the article that gives me pause.

  Sally told me all this, not with an air of bitter regret, but with sweet nostalgia in her voice. And when I asked her if she’d change any of her past choices, she told me that no, she wouldn’t. She had followed her dream. Sally had bet everything she had and lost. But she’d do it all again, as those years had been the best of her life...

  Richard ends the article with a question.

  Would you risk everything you have for a dream?

  I don’t know, Richard, would you? Seems clear the answer is still no. Is he comparing me to Sally’s business? Saying love will give temporary ecstasy followed by an inevitable hard crash? Why did Indira make me read this? I’m the “someone who once told him,” but she can’t know that. So what’s the message here? My brain and heart are too exhausted for guesswork. Sorry, Richard. If you want to tell me something, you’ll have to say it to my face.

  After reading the enigmatic column, I spend the rest of the day battling my instincts. All I want to do is look Richard’s way, but instead, I force my gaze ahead, not straying once.

  ***

  There’s an art in avoiding people. In the next few days, I perfect mine. I time everything so I’ll never risk crossing paths with Richard. Step one, arrive at the office before him and never leave last. Step two, wait for him to come back from his lunch break before I take mine. Step three, whatever else Richard does, make sure I’m always one step ahead or behind so we never bump into one another.