Standstill

by Nicole Dykes

  He kisses the top of my head, and then without another word, leaves for work.

  Yeah, on paper, our life isn’t that bad. But I see the silent misery lurking in his eyes. The same look that stares back at me every time I look at my reflection.

  Fuck, some days I feel like I’m pushing fifty when in fact, I’m half that. I wasn’t sure this week from hell was ever going to end, but thankfully, it’s finally Friday.

  I pull into the drive and park my car, staring at the glass door we installed last year. I’m really fucking glad it’s sturdy and didn’t shatter when Amber slammed it at the beginning of the week.

  Fuck, that was funny. I have to admit it. Ashlyn can definitely hold her own and makes me pay for the dumb shit I’ve done to her over the past two decades.

  I climb out of my brand-new Camaro, locking it and then walk up to the door and unlock it. “Ash?” I call when I don’t see her.

  It’s almost seven on Friday. She should be home.

  I loosen the tie and remove the strangling silk, tossing it on the couch. “Ash!”

  Nothing.

  Fucking weird.

  I walk into the kitchen and grab a beer, twisting it open and gulping it down like a man dying from thirst.

  I remove my suit jacket and walk out to the patio, thinking maybe she went for a swim, but nope, she’s not out here.

  I take a seat, staring at the sparkling water in the pool and turn when I hear the sliding glass door open. I swear my heart completely stops pounding in my chest when I see a version of Ashlyn I’ve never seen before.

  Holy. Fuck.

  She’s wearing a dress, which is weird enough. Seriously, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen her in a dress the entire time I’ve known her. And none of them looked like this.

  All of the saliva has left my mouth, which I’m pretty sure is wide open as my jaw drops.

  Her black dress hits the middle of her tanned thighs, it’s not skintight, but it doesn’t have to be to be sexy as fuck. The top of the dress is sheer and making my body do insanely crazy things. The neck dips down into a deep V, showcasing her perky, full, yet modest, breasts I’m pretty sure I’ve been pretending she doesn’t have.

  But I’m a guy, and I’ve seen her in a bikini many times. So, I know they’re fucking phenomenal.

  And she is wearing, honest to God, fuck-me, black heels. Her long brown, wavy hair is down and only adding to her already off-the-charts sexiness.

  Shit. I need to get a grip.

  “Where the fuck are you going?”

  She smiles, tucking a small purse under her arm. “I have a date.”

  A what? Shit. I can’t remember the last time she had a date. “With who?”

  I need to chill because my body is on high alert and I am way too worked-up for a totally platonic best friend.

  “This guy at work. I’ve had a thing for him for ages, but he was in a relationship.”

  I sit up straight, trying not to stare at her tits. Or her legs. Fuck, there’s nowhere to look. “So, what? You’re so fucking desperate you need to be some douchebag’s rebound fuck?”

  Oh damn, that may have been a little too harsh. I see the irritation instantly in her eyes. “Rebound fuck? Nice, Garrett.”

  And because I’m a true asshole, I don’t back down. “That’s what it is, right? You said he just got out of a relationship. So that’s exactly what it is.”

  “They’ve been broken up for a few months, and what the hell do you care?”

  “I’m your friend, Ash. I think you should care more about yourself than that.”

  Yeah, hypocrite of the century right now. And she calls me on it. “Really? Mr. Doesn’t Even Remember Their Names? How many girls have you slept with this month alone? And you’re going to call me a slut?”

  I would never. “No. That’s not what I’m saying.” I gesture to her dress that’s making me so fucking flustered I don’t think I could come up with my own goddamn name at the moment. “I’m just saying this isn’t you.”

  She smooths the black skirt. “I’m a grown woman, and I sure as hell don’t need anyone to tell me what I can wear.” She leans down so we’re at eye level, but I’m having a really fucking hard time focusing on her fury-filled eyes. “Or who I can fuck.”

  I swallow. Shit, I swear my cock twitched when she said “fuck.” Christ, what the hell is wrong with me?

  “Fine then, Ash. Go ahead. Let some guy treat you like trash.”

  She stands up tall, giving me the finger with her confident stance. “I think you mean ‘Go and have fun, Ash. You deserve it.’ Right, Garrett?”

  “Sure.” I mumble into my beer.

  Her heels click on the solid rock beneath her as she leaves, and I’m left wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

  She’s allowed to date. She’s allowed to look fucking hot. But all I can think is how badly I want to stop her from leaving. Even though I won’t.

  Why I want to stop her? That I don’t have the answer for.

  I’m still irritated from my conversation with Garrett before I left this evening, and the date didn’t help matters at all.

  What the hell is his problem?

  I unlock the door to the house and stop, staring into the large mirror in the foyer. Okay, so the dress I picked out is a little racy, but it’s still classy. I smooth down the black skirt that only reaches mid-thigh, but it’s not clinging to my body. It flares out at the cinched-in waist into a bell-like shape. The top is sheer and lacy, but it’s not see-through. It has cute, matching sleeves. And okay, the V-neck dips down in the front and in the back, but I fucking love it.

  Garrett’s reaction left me frustrated and confused. He’s never commented on my attire before, unless one of the sayings on my shirt makes him laugh.

  Where is the asshole anyway?

  I storm out to the back patio, ready for a fight, but stop when I see him sprawled out on one of the lounge chairs by the pool, beer in hand, one leg slightly bent at the knee. He’s wearing swim trunks, and my eyes do a quick scan of his toned body.

  I need to knock that shit off, I know, but the guy is a work of art. A small, sad smile forms on my lips when I spot the tattoo on his chest, covering his pec. The date of the accident.

  I have a matching one, but mine is on my side, accompanied by Paige’s favorite flowers, snapdragons.

  His eyes meet mine as he lifts the glass bottle to his lips. “You’re back early.”

  I shrug and take a seat in the chair next to his, crossing my legs at the ankle, and I swear I catch his eyes dragging from my ankle to my thigh. “Yeah well, I’m not a total slut. Gotta make ‘em wait ‘til the second date.” My tone is bitter, and I can’t hide the hurt I’m still feeling from earlier.

  He lets out a reluctant breath from between his full lips. “Look, I’m really fucking sorry about earlier.”

  My eyes are so fucking wide I swear it almost hurts as I stare at him in shock. “You’re what?”

  He moves to a sitting position, and I watch his lower ab muscles flex. “You heard me.”

  “An actual apology from Garrett Burke?”

  I’m still in shock. He’s a good man for the most part, but he does not apologize. His hand moves and skims through his thick hair, his bicep flexing. “Yeah, don’t get used to it. But I was a dick, and I know it.”

  True. “Why?”

  I watch as he swallows and takes a drink. “I guess it just surprised me.”

  I roll my eyes, leaning back on my hands. “I’ve been on dates before.”

  My skin heats inexplicably as his gaze lands on my outfit, sliding down from my neck to my shoes. And in that moment, I might as well be totally naked. “Yeah, you have, but you usually wear a t-shirt and shorts to go out with some dingus who’s taking you bowling.”

  “I like bowling.”

  He doesn’t smile. His expression is serious. I sit up straight to fight squirming. “I’m not used to you trying so hard for a date.”

 
“Damn, Garrett. Thanks.”

  “You know what I mean. You put a lot of effort into this date, and it was unnerving.”

  I know what he means. Usually I go into a date like I couldn’t care less if we click or not, but tonight I was fairly excited. I hadn’t had this much interest in a guy for a while. And when he asked me out, I thought you never know, maybe he could be the one. “Maybe I’m ready to get more serious about dating.”

  He nods. “Your biological clock ticking?”

  I smile and nudge his foot with my heel. “Asshole.” He smirks, and I admit shyly, “Maybe. I mean, Erin and Reed thinking about kids and having their dream careers . . .” I sigh. “I need to start thinking about the future more.”

  “So, I guess I should get used to this, huh?”

  I smile. “I guess so.” I stand and then turn back to him. “But not with this particular guy.”

  His eyes light up, and I put one hand on my hip at his gloating. “No?”

  “No, and if you say ‘I told you so,’ I swear I’ll knee you in the balls.” He laughs at that, and it’s good to hear. He uses his hand to mime a zipping motion over his lips and doesn’t speak. “He talked about his ex the entire damn time. So yeah, you were right. I wasn’t interested in being his rebound fuck.”

  He surprises me and stands only inches away from me, his gaze once again dips down, and then his eyes lock on mine. “The prick saw you in this dress and talked about another woman?”

  I nod my head, struggling to breathe because every time I do, I breathe in his intoxicating, manly, freshly-showered scent. “Yes.”

  His face moves even closer to mine, deadly serious as I watch his natural pout. “Then he’s an idiot.”

  I finally let out a shaky breath and force a smile. “His loss.”

  He takes a step back and nods his head toward the pool. “You want to go for a swim?”

  Honestly? I don’t trust myself half-naked around him half-naked right now. “No thanks. I’m just going to bed.”

  He doesn’t really acknowledge my answer and instead just jumps into the deep end and again, I’m ogling my best friend as his chiseled torso pops back up out of the water.

  Shit.

  I have to get a grip on this.

  And fast.

  I look up to the sky, a habit I’ve had since Paige left this world, because to get through the years without her, I have to believe she’s up there watching over me and that I will see her again.

  I’m so sorry, Paige. No worries. He’s still forever yours.

  “Wow, this is a beautiful patio.”

  I smile at Veronica, a woman from work who’s about fifteen years older than me as she clutches a margarita in her hand and sits down at the table. “Thanks. I spend a lot of time out here.”

  Whitney, another girl from the office, sits down, her eyes taking in the beautiful space, which is honestly my favorite place to be and nods her head in approval. “You have a really beautiful home. Why the hell haven’t you invited us before?”

  I didn’t really invite them today. Honestly, I’m not the most social person and have to be forced into most events that require me to people. Veronica, Whitney, and Margo pretty much invited themselves.

  Though I just smile and don’t point that out. Margo, who works in our accounting department, chimes in, “No offense, sweetheart, but how the hell did you afford this house? I mean, I’ve seen all of our paychecks.”

  She takes a drink of her margarita, and the other girls nod in agreement. I would be curious myself, but I don’t think I would actually voice my curiosity. “Well, honestly, it needed a hell of a lot of work, so we got a great price and fixed it up little by little over the years. And I bought it with my roommate.”

  “Ah.” Whitney nods her head like that makes a lot more sense. “You have a roommate. Where is she now?”

  “Yeah, we can always use more bitches to gossip with.” Margo adds, sinking deep into her margarita.

  Here we go. “Um, he should be home pretty soon.”

  Yup, all six eyebrows raise. Veronica is the one to ask. “He?”

  I nod my head and take a sip of my drink. “Yeah. He. Garrett.”

  “Gay?” The simple question comes from Whitney.

  I shake my head. “Nope. Just lifelong best friend.”

  Veronica smiles, actually fucking winks at me and then pats my thigh. “Ah, I get it. Kind of chubby. Maybe some acne. Back hair. Totally safe, non-sexual friend.”

  I almost burst with laughter at the completely incorrect description of Garrett and am about to correct her when he does it himself. He opens the sliding door and steps out. Still wearing his black dress slacks, but his tie and suit jacket are removed, and several shirt buttons are undone, letting tanned, toned skin peek through.

  “Hey, Ash. You out . . .” He stops and stares with amusement. “I’m sorry, didn’t know you had company.”

  And all three women are drooling. Jesus. Talk about thirsty bitches.

  “Hey. Yeah.” I gesture to the women. “This is Whitney, Veronica, and Margo.” I focus mostly on Veronica. “This is my roommate, Garrett.”

  She tries to clear her throat, but her voice is still a croak, “Hi.”

  His lips are still forming an amused smirk. “Nice to meet you guys.” He nods his head at me. “I was going to see if you felt like going out tonight, but I guess you’re busy.”

  Fuck, I’d much rather go with him, even if that means watching women throw themselves at him all night. But I suppose that’s rude. “Yeah. We brought happy hour home.”

  Whitney, who is awfully married to be purring as loud as she is when she speaks to Garrett, bites her bottom lip, a lioness ready to pounce. “You could join us. I promise it’ll be entertaining.”

  Veronica, also married for over a decade, uses her fingers to draw a line from her collarbone to the top of her breasts. Did she unbutton her shirt? What the hell is going on? “Yes, I’m dying to know more about this little situation you two have.”

  Garrett doesn’t look as amused anymore and in fact looks confused as he looks to me for an answer. “Our situation?”

  I shrug, my right eyebrow lifting to tell him I have no fucking clue.

  “Yeah. I mean two heterosexual friends of the opposite sex living together.” Margo sounds in absolute incredulity. “That’s fascinating.”

  Garrett laughs it off. “Yeah well, Ash is more of the talker. I’m afraid I would be boring.” Fucker. “It’s nice to meet you ladies.”

  They all pout as he walks back into the house and then turn to me, astonished looks on their faces. They’ve all seen men before. Good lord, he’s hot, I know, but there are many hot men out there.

  “Holy fucking shit.” Whitney remarks into her margarita glass.

  Veronica laughs in agreement. “That man is the opposite of nonsexual. He’s oozing sex.” Her eyes gape. “How the hell have you not jumped him?”

  Wow. “We’re just friends.”

  “But how?” Margo is clearly in shock.

  “I mean, it would be just really weird. We’ve been friends for decades.”

  Whitney shakes her head and finishes off her drink. “I mean never?”

  Now I’m even more uncomfortable. This subject has definitely gone to a place I’m not interested in going.

  “Yeah, like not even a kiss?” Veronica adds, eying me. “I just don’t believe it. You both are young, incredibly hot, and you live under the same roof. There’s no way there has never been a slip.”

  Margo cackles at her choice of words, and my skin suddenly flushes.

  I’m not going there. Memory lane is something I never explore.

  I stand up and grab the glass pitcher, emptying it into Margo’s glass. “Trust me, it’s possible.” Just not with us. “I’m going to go get us some more.”

  I dart out of there before they can call me out some more and place the pitcher on the counter before walking down the hall to the bathroom.

  Please let them fi
nd something else to talk about.

  I hear the shower and walk into the bathroom, seeing the shower curtain is closed and the steam rising.

  I hear Garrett’s voice. “Please God, tell me that’s you and not one of your horny older friends.”

  I laugh and take a seat on the closed toilet lid. “Ugh! Please don’t go.”

  I hear him chuckle and see the shadow of his body as he lathers his hair. “Just ditch them and come out with me.”

  “I can’t do that. That’s more of a Garrett move.”

  “You want me to kick them out?”

  Yes. “No. Be nice.”

  He laughs again, which makes me laugh even though he’s totally laughing at my expense. “What the hell are they doing here anyway?”

  I groan. “I have no idea.”

  He turns the water off, and I consciously have to make myself turn away as he grabs a towel from the bar next to the shower stall. “Is this part of the new Ash?” I turn back and see him tying the towel around his waist, walking to the mirror. “Because I’m not sure I can support this one.”

  “No. I’m not sure how this happened.” I watch his back muscles ripple while he combs his hair and realize I’m just as bad as them. “Just stay, and we can be in hell together.”

  “No fucking way. I need to get laid.”

  I would beg, but that never works with him anyway, so I make a joke instead. “Hey, I’m pretty sure you could have all three of them. A little orgy for your Friday?”

  He chuckles, and it’s a beautiful sound. See? It’s not always gloom and doom with us. “No fucking way.”

  “Are you really that hard up? It wasn’t that long ago Amber/Denise stormed out of our house.”

  “Yeah, I still owe you for that shit.” He brushes his teeth, spits in the sink, and turns toward me. “And yeah, that was almost a month ago and the last time I had sex. I’m fucking dying here.”