by Kendall Ryan
I wanted to argue with her, but I knew my mother was probably thinking about her own failure at relationships. Passion led to sex, which led to pregnancy, which led to a marriage with a swift and inevitable divorce shortly after.
My phone buzzed. I checked the message.
Are we still on for today?
Speak of the devil. It was my father. For years I had a strained relationship with him. He was much older than Mom, nineteen years her senior, and to be honest, I don't think he ever got over the loss of his first wife. My mom was the unlucky rebound he tried to reclaim his happiness with. But one disagreement too many, and my mom packed our bags, vowing we didn’t need him anymore.
“Who’s that?” My mother peered at my cell. I quickly lifted it out of her view.
Now that I was older, I'd learned to accept my dad's shortcomings and appreciate what he had to offer. Plus, I'd come to realize the old man wasn't going to be around forever.
“Dad,” I said. “I’ve got to run. Thanks for the advice, Mom.” I planted a kiss on her forehead before pushing my chair in.
“Mmm-hmmm.” She was not convinced. Don’t lie to an aura-reader, Zach. This is gonna bite you in the ass later.
“You’re a good boy, Zachary,” she called after me. I looked back over my shoulder to catch a knowing smile. Maybe she knew more than I thought. She usually did.
It took me less than twenty minutes to drive to my dad’s apartment from the café. The proximity in which my divorced parents lived was maybe abnormal, but it had never been an issue growing up. My dad was distant, if not physically, then emotionally. It took me most of my adult life to come to terms with the fact that I would have to make the first steps of having any sort of relationship with him.
I knocked on his front door and waited for him to answer. I heard footsteps from inside and then the door was opening to reveal my dad, just how I'd always picture him—gray wool cardigan, button-down shirt, and white hair, parted neatly at the side, looking dapper—even at sixty-nine years old.
"Hey, Dad." I smiled as he reached out and gave my hand a firm shake. "Happy birthday."
"Ah, when you get to be my age, it's no big deal. It's a Monday, you know?"
I nodded. "Happy Monday, then. What would you like to do today?" I told him I'd pick him up after work and we'd do something to celebrate.
I was guessing Dad would suggest the diner he liked near his house, or maybe just coffee. But he surprised me by allowing a secretive little smile to sneak onto his otherwise stoic face.
"I've got someplace in mind. You're driving."
Once inside my car, he directed me to a quiet little strip mall a few miles down the road.
We parked and got out of the car. I still had no idea where we were going, but I followed him along the sidewalk until he stopped in front of a door to a nail salon with a neon sign promising a "Mani-Pedi for $49!"
"Um?" I paused, sure he had the wrong place.
"Come on, kid. It's my birthday. Let's live a little."
Bells jingled over the door, and the smell of nail polish wafted out to greet us.
"Arthur!" the receptionist sang when she saw my dad, crossing from behind her desk to pull him into a hug.
It was clear my dad was a regular here. Interesting.
The place was almost empty—an older woman, probably a retiree like my dad sat in one of the pedicure chairs with her feet soaking in steaming water. A couple of other women sat getting their fingernails polished in vibrant colors.
"This is my son," Dad said, gesturing to me.
"Handsome!" the woman giggled into her hand.
"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling oddly out of place. I was hip. I was with it. I might even be a little metro-sexual with my manscaping and whatnot. But this? This was an entirely new experience for me. Still, I decided to just go with it. When in Rome and all that shit.
We were directed to a station in the back and seated side by side while two women emerged from the back of the shop to attend to us.
"You alright there?" Dad asked. Was that a playful smirk I saw?
"Of course."
The longer we sat here, the more I started to assign meaning to our visit here. Maybe it was the writer inside me, but curiosity was a strong motivator, and I needed to piece this together. Dad didn't say it, but I knew what he liked about this place. The petite dark-haired beauty filing his nails and massaging his hands reminded him of his first wife. He'd met her in Cambodia while stationed there with the Army. They'd only been married a couple of years when she was killed in a car accident.
The low hum of conversations around us was spoken in their native dialect. I was confident my dad didn't have a clue what they were saying, but a little smile remained planted across his face, like the sound of chattering women in this faraway language brought him back to a better time in his life.
I smiled at the woman filing my nails, proud that I'd flinched only twice as she trimmed my cuticles with some device that looked like it was straight out of the medieval ages.
As we sat here longer I realized it wasn't just the nostalgia that kept him coming back. It was the level of companionship, however brief, and the human touch that was of comfort to him. He was a single, sixty-nine-year-old man living alone. He probably didn't get touched by another person outside of these occasional visits. It made me feel sad for him.
As I sat there, my thoughts drifted to Poppy, as they often did during a moment of quiet. We needed to talk, to clear the air between us.
I had a weird relationship with love. I wanted it, but I wasn't necessarily looking for it. Honestly, it was probably the thing I wanted most in my life. But wasn't about to go out searching for it like some lovesick puppy. I was waiting for it to find me, if that made any sense. After watching my parents, I knew forcing it was pointless. True love — love that was real and tangible — now, that couldn't be stopped. However elusive it seemed, I knew when the time was right, it would come knocking. Until then, I was going to enjoy all the noncommittal fun I could, knowing that one day I may end up just like my father, having lost his true love and now getting his nails buffed and polished just for a little human contact.
Was this what my life was going to boil down to? That thought was a depressing one.
I thought about what my mom had said. You have to decide if it’s just sex you want or if it’s something more. You can’t be in the middle. You can’t do that to a woman, her voice rang in my mind.
I knew I wanted Poppy—but I also knew that as her adviser, she was off-limits. And my plans to move to New York City next year to pursue my writing full-time would be another problem. Hello, rock. Meet hard place.
Chapter Eight
Poppy
You could cut the tension between us with a knife. I’d been a bundle of nerves as I walked into the coffee shop to meet Zach for our meeting, but I needn’t have worried. He dove straight into his notes on my poems and had been nothing but professional. We got down to business on my assignment for Dr. Chan, and I felt immensely better and more confident about my piece. I couldn’t help but think that perhaps he was trying to make up for the wasted meeting we had where we got nothing done.
Still, I knew we were both aware of the elephant in the room. Zach had texted me that he was “majorly fucking attracted” to me and we weren’t talking about it. We never met up to discuss it, mostly because I was too afraid, and my new plan was to pretend it never happened. Which conveniently Zach seemed to be on board with.
“Any questions on the paper Ludwitz assigned this week?” he asked.
I somehow liked that he’d memorized my schedule, and was taking a vested interest in my performance.
I shook my head. “I haven’t actually even started it yet. I thought I’d dig in tonight.”
He nodded. “Cool. He comes across as cold, but he’s actually a good guy. He is really particular on word count though, so pay attention to that. And let me know if you have quest
ions.”
It was nice, actually, to talk about writing with him. I was surprised to find that despite Zach’s dirty mouth and tendency to get distracted during our meetings, he was insightful and had a lot of useful notes about my work. This must be the Zach other students got to work with—the cool, smart adviser who was passionate about writing.
As we wrapped up our meeting and walked out of the coffee shop, Zach pointed down the street.
“Do you want to grab a bite?”
I paused, thrown off by the question. He’d been so professional all morning, so what was he trying to do? While there was no rule against students and advisers going out to lunch together, it still felt like it might be taking things too far.
“Come on, Poppy. I see those wheels turning. There’s no motive. I’m just hungry, and based on how loudly your stomach was grumbling during our meeting I assumed you were, too.”
I couldn’t help but laugh and put my hands on my stomach.
“I was hoping you hadn’t heard that.”
“It was very distracting.” He flashed that smirk at me, and my knees went weak. That’s not the only thing that was distracting during our meeting. Zach was dressed casually in a blue button up and dark jeans, both of which seemed to have been tailor-made to show off his jaw-dropping body. His dark hair, as always, was the perfect mix of styled and messy. He ran a hand through it at that moment, as if he knew what I was thinking. Fuck. Why did it feel like the wind had been knocked out of me every time he did that? I swallowed dryly.
“I guess I do need to eat.” I shrugged, trying to sound casual despite my thoughts. It’s just lunch, I told myself. And he’s right, I’m starving.
“Cool. If you like sushi, there’s a good place that’s within walking distance,” he said.
I nodded and Zach led the way.
It was a perfect fall day. The leaves were a colorful array of oranges, reds and yellows, the sun was bright and there was a cool breeze. A lot of the local shops had already put up pumpkins and Halloween decorations in anticipation of the holiday even though it was way too early. Still I loved this time of year. It was the perfect weather to snuggle up at home with a book. Or with a hot guy. Except not Zach. Definitely not Zach.
As we walked down the street I could feel that same tension from earlier. I knew I needed to say something. I couldn’t sit through a whole lunch without at least acknowledging what he’d texted me. My stomach felt like it was full of lead and my hands started shaking so much that I shoved them into my pockets. It was now or never. I stopped mid-stride, “I need to say something.”
He turned to me with an amused look, the same look he’d given me at the party when we first met, and the words just fell out of my mouth.
“Look, about what you texted me the other day, I'm sorry, it's not that you're not attractive. You are,” I felt my face getting hot, and I hoped I wasn’t blushing. You’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Plus you’re smart, insightful, a writer … I took a deep breath, “But even if I could get past you being my adviser, you've just caught me at a bad time. Post relationship, and all that. I've kind of sworn off men. At least for the time being.” Not to mention I have a seven-year old son I’ve never told you about … I felt like I was struggling to breath, like my stomach was in my throat and my words were almost choking me. That had to be the reason I hadn’t brought up Connor yet. Wasn’t it?
He was still looking at me with that same expression, then shrugged. “That's fine with me. We’ll be friends.” I felt relief wash over me, before he added, “With, or without benefits. Up to you.”
Just when I thought I was getting through to him. I put my hands on my hips. “No benefits.”
“Hmm.” The sound was so deep and sexy coming from him. “So, I suppose it’s not helpful that I want to fuck you.” He put on a mock serious face. “Platonically, of course.”
My lady-parts jumped to attention at the word “fuck” coming from his full and very kissable lips, but I forced myself to stay focused.
“No dice. Friends. That's it.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, but his eyes moved down my body and I felt my face flush. I was suddenly aware of how my sweater clung to my breasts and how tight my jeans were. My nipples pushed up against my bra as a shiver ran through my spine and down between my legs. I tried to stand as still as possible, hoping Zach wouldn’t notice my reaction. When he met my eyes again, he was smirking like he knew exactly what I’d been thinking.
“Fine.” He shrugged. “It’ll take more work than I thought, but I’ll win you over. If not, Kody wants a piece of this fine ass, so there's always that.”
I snorted a laugh, unable to stop myself.
“Well I hope you two are very happy together.”
“Not that I’m not enjoying having this conversation in the middle of the street but I’m pretty hungry. Can we eat now?” Zach gestured toward the restaurant.
Okay, so we didn’t exactly accomplish what I’d hoped but at least I’d made my point. As much as Zach teased me he knew where I stood on this. Despite our attraction, despite our chemistry, despite that kiss … we had to remain just friends.
Zach led me a few blocks down the street to a sushi restaurant that boasted an all you can eat lunch special. As we looked over the menu my stomach let out another loud grumble. We both started cracking up.
“Luckily this is an all you can eat buffet because it sounds like you haven’t eaten in months.”
I smiled slyly at him over the menu. “Care to make this interesting?”
He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “I’m listening.”
“I bet I can eat more sushi than you.”
He laughed. “No way, you’re tiny. But if you want to make that bet, I’ll take it.”
It was a little ridiculous, Zach had over a foot of height on me, and countless pounds. But what I lacked for in size, I made up for in gusto. I wasn’t going to hold back.
After we’d placed our extravagant orders of four rolls each and handed our menus to the server, I turned to Zach.
“So, what got you into writing?”
“Straight to business. I appreciate that in a woman.” He flashed that panty dropping smirk again and I crossed my legs under the table, hoping he wouldn’t notice the reaction it gave me down there.
He took a sip of his water and shrugged. “I’ve just always liked it, since I was a kid. I think it was easier to express myself that way than to say it out loud. And when I got to college and had no idea what I wanted to major in, I just kind of fell into it. I was an English lit major as an undergrad, and then completed my masters here at Vanderburg a couple of years ago in creative writing.”
“That’s cool. But really…You? Having trouble expressing yourself?” I grinned.
He laughed. “Hard to imagine, right? But I was a shy kid. Obviously, I got over that.” He ran a hand through his dark hair.
“After graduation, I got a job offer and stayed on to help in the department. I thought it’d be temporary while I finished my manuscript. I’ve been here two years now.”
“Wow. But it seems like you like it?” I couldn’t detect any bitterness in his voice, but I knew that deep down all writers had a secret fantasy about selling their first novel for millions and receiving international accolades. Regardless of what happened with his writing, I found it admirable that he’d stayed on here, coaching writing students to succeed in something he himself was so passionate about.
He nodded. “Yeah, I do actually. But part of me would love to start over somewhere. Do something adventurous like move to New York—pursue my writing career full-time.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say. My life and the term adventurous didn’t compute.
“What about you? Why poetry?” he asked.
I thought for a moment. I knew the answer, but I wasn’t ready to admit all of it to Zach.
I'd always loved to read, but I think havin
g a baby so young pushed me into my hobby more—it was something fun I could still do—it was easy to hold a baby in one arm and a book in the other.
And then my writing was a natural extension from there. I needed a way to express myself, and since I wasn't off running with the cool crowd, or even out socializing much at all, I poured all my thoughts and feelings onto paper. I only had time for short pieces, and poetry came naturally.
“Kind of the same, I guess. I’m not very articulate, but when I’m writing, the emotion kind of just flows out of me. I can push everything else from my brain, all the noise, all the worries and stress and just be in the moment with my words. I love that feeling.” I felt myself turning red, and looked down at my hands. “I don’t know, it sounds dumb when I say it out loud.”
“No, it doesn’t. I actually know exactly what you mean.” I lifted my eyes and we looked at each other for a moment before we were interrupted by the server delivering our sushi on gleaming white porcelain dishes.
“May the best man win.” Zach and I touched our first two pieces of sushi in a mock toast, and started stuffing ourselves.
I chewed and swallowed my first bite. “This is really good. Try the eel.” I pointed to my plate, urging him to take a piece.
Zach shook his head. “If I’m going to win, I need to focus on what’s on my own plate. Nice try though.”
I rolled my eyes.
Usually I felt awkward going out to eat with someone for the first time, but this was surprisingly comfortable.
“So,” he said, swallowing a mouthful of spicy tuna. “Since you’ve sworn off men, should we pick out a woman for you?”
I snorted and put down my chopsticks. “Why don’t you help me pick someone out?”
The restaurant was popular and it was completely packed for the lunch special. Zach put a hand to his chin like he was thinking carefully. I should have been looking around as well, but I found myself unable to take my eyes off him. His full lips were turned up in a slight smile, highlighting his already prominent cheekbones. His strong jaw was flecked with scruffy facial hair, making him look effortlessly rugged. When he turned back to me with those heart stopping green eyes, I had to hold back from letting out a little gasp. I quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed me staring.
