Page 14

MARLOW

There are not enough vibrating, pulsating, spinning, or throbbing contraptions on this planet to ease my tension after my encounter with Ryan. There isn’t a working battery left in my entire apartment come Monday morning.

The weekend went better than I anticipated…and worse. And now we’re friends, I guess?

Ryan is my friend. Ryan is my friend . This is my new mantra. I repeat it again and again in my head as I walk to work on Monday morning.

When I hear his voice in the break room, I bypass it completely and settle in at my desk without a much-needed caffeine infusion. He walks by my office a few minutes later, but he’s talking to Hunter so he doesn’t look over at me. My stomach flutters anyway.

Ryan is my friend .

My buddy, my pal, the guy who had his fingers inside me yesterday. The guy who said such dirty things into my ear that I’m still blushing today.

Around ten o’clock, I hear Ryan in the hallway again telling Hunter he’ll be out in the field for the next couple of days.

Perfect.

We just need a breather. A buffer of time to let things settle back into their proper place, then we can figure out how this friendship thing works between us.

___

By Thursday, we still haven’t found our footing. We’re all tense smiles and stiff pleasantries. We say things like ‘excuse me’ and ‘great, thanks’ and ‘looks like we might get some rain’.

Everyone else is horrified. Maybe they miss being a fly on the wall for our daily banter, or maybe they fear the worst. Emmett asked me yesterday if we were both abducted by pod people. No one knows what to do with this new version of Ryan and me.

And apparently, word is spreading fast.

That night, I get a text from Abby asking if I’m coming to the bar tomorrow after work. She’s dying to hear how last weekend went, and admittedly, I’ve been dodging her questions via text. I don’t know what to say.

I ponder happy hour for a minute. Some masochistic part of me wants to go just to see Ryan. Part of me is hoping for another mistake, something to quell the feeling inside of me, even if it would end in disaster.

More realistically though, I’ll get to the bar tomorrow night and have to watch women flirt with Ryan. He’ll flirt back, of course. He has no reason not to. I’ll have to watch him buy them drinks and maybe even leave with them at the end of the night.

I don’t think I could take it…not yet anyway.

I meant what I said to Ryan: I am incapable of separating the physical stuff from the emotional stuff.

Exhibit A: these feelings I’m having for him ever since our encounter.

I’m aware that it’s pathetic. We didn’t even have sex, but it was enough to make me feel swoony and possessive and even a little bit stabby when I think of him hooking up with someone else now.

I can’t make it tomorrow night, I reply to Abby’s text message.

Another hot fake date this weekend? she replies.

I type a response and then delete it. Then another and another. This goes on until Abby seems to realize something is wrong.

I was thinking of skipping HH tomorrow, too. Can’t drink anyway. Girls’ night in at my place instead?

Then, I’m not taking no for an answer. I need your help with the nursery.

Girls’ night in it is.

___

On Friday afternoon, Ryan and I wave awkwardly across the lobby.

It’s the most interacting we’ve done in days.

I leave the office a few minutes early so I don’t get swept up in the happy hour crowd and questioned about why I’m not attending.

Ryan’s truck is already gone when I step out of the building.

Maybe he is already at the bar…or maybe he has a date.

I change clothes quickly at home and pack up a few items before driving over to Abby’s house. It’s a few miles out of town on a dirt road. My GPS on my phone can’t seem to figure out where to turn, but I see her car parked in front of a cabin and pull in beside it.

Abby opens the door in a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.

“Did you know that Oreos are vegan?” she asks by way of greeting.

“Yes,” I laugh, “but I’m not vegan, and neither are you.”

I give her a quick hug before entering her house.

“I know, but I’m pregnant and it was an excuse to eat Oreos.”

Abby holds the package out to me like a gift as she shows me around the house.

It’s a cozy cottage on the inside, just masculine enough to make me think that Hunter had some say in the décor.

There are no mounted elk heads, but there’s plenty of plaid.

Black and white nature photography adorns the walls.

It’s Pottery Barn meets Bass Pro Shop. She leads me on a short tour that ends with the extra bedroom at the end of the hall.

“This is the nursery,” she says as we walk into the room.

“It’s…empty.”

“Yeah, well it’s still early, but I really want to get started on it. I need something to obsess over that isn’t the nonprofit; otherwise, I’ll drive myself insane.”

“Got it. So, have you picked anything out yet?” I ask.

“Well, I want to do a woodland theme, but I can basically see the taxidermied animal carcasses floating through Hunter’s mind when I say those words. I think he’s envisioning Freddy Krueger’s lakeside murder shack.” She rolls her eyes and extracts another Oreo from the package.

“Is that not what you had in mind?” I laugh.

“I was thinking more like adorable pastel animals with big, fluffy tails.”

“I don’t know…I hear kids really love Freddy Krueger.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but in the meantime, can you please take a look at these mural designs? Hunter’s sister, Harlie, offered to paint one for us and I can’t decide which one I like best,” Abby says.

She directs me back to the living room and pulls up a few designs. After laughing hysterically over a Freddy Krueger/forest animal mash-up that we doodled on the back of a takeout menu, we settle on one of the designs that Hunter’s sister provided.

Then comes Abby’s serious face.

“So…tell me about the wedding,” she prods.

“It was fine,” I chirp back drawing a circle in the condensation on my glass.

“Seriously? That’s all you’re going to give me? ‘It was fine’?”

I sigh. I knew I wasn’t getting off that easy, but it was worth a shot.

It’s not that I don’t want to tell Abby about it.

I can tell she’s the type that knows how to keep a secret.

It’s just that I still can’t find the words.

Ryan and I have such a strange dynamic. It’s impossible to explain it when I don’t even understand it yet.

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be. And I guess we’re friends now…sort of,” I say.

“You and Ryan are friends ?”

“Yeah, Ryan is my friend.” I repeat my mantra for the week. “Why? Is that weird?”

“Sort of. It just sounds so neutral. I’ve seen you and Ryan together and neutral isn’t the word I’d use to describe it. I thought things might change between you guys over the weekend, but I didn’t think it would be like that.”

She’s dancing around something.

“What did you think would change?” I ask cautiously.

“I sort of thought you two would…you know…bang it out.”

My eyes widen and I nearly choke on the Oreo I just popped into my mouth.

“Well, it did start to go that way,” I admit after a minute. “But I sort of chickened out.”

“Why?”

“We don’t want the same thing. He wants casual hook-ups and I like relationships.

I don’t know how to do casual. It’s sort of a relic of my foster care upbringing.

Relationships are all or nothing to me. If I open up to someone enough to be intimate with them, I’m already all in.

It’s hard for me to get to that point with anyone and I can’t just turn it off at will. Sometimes I wish I could…”

Abby is looking at me like I just broke her heart. I can see a tear forming in the corner of her eye.

“Are you okay?” I ask her.

“I’m sorry! It’s the stupid pregnancy hormones. I’m like a snowball of emotions.”

She walks out of the room and returns with a box of tissues, blotting one against the corner of her eye.

“Do you want to be in a relationship with Ryan? If he were on board with something more serious, would you be, too?” she asks.

I shrug. I honestly hadn’t really considered it. It was never on the table as an option, so I never let my brain wander too far down that path. Now that I am thinking about it though, I don’t think I like the answer.

Abby reads my face and grabs my hand. “Listen, I totally get it. Stop me if this is too weird to hear – I know he’s your boss – but Hunter and I started out as a casual hook-up.

We were trapped in his cabin together during a storm after he rescued me off the trail.

I fell pretty hard and fast, so I get it.

I can’t imagine if those feelings hadn’t been reciprocated or if we hadn’t found our way back to each other.

But, for what it’s worth, I think Ryan could be swayed back to being a one-woman-man for the right woman. ”

She raises her eyebrows mischievously.

“I’m not sure that’s me,” I say, “and I don’t want to find out if it’s not.”

“Fair enough,” Abby shrugs.

“And friends are always good.”

“Cheers to that!” Abby says, raising her water glass to clink against mine.

___

On Saturday morning, I wake up feeling hungover despite the fact that I drank zero alcohol last night.

My muscles feel tense and achy, and my stomach is queasy.

I knew work was a pretty good distraction, but I underestimated how big of a distraction it was.

Without it, all the unresolved problems of last weekend creep back into my brain.

Add to that my newfound obsession with knowing if Ryan went home with someone else last night. He’s not mine to claim, but it would hurt to be forgotten so quickly.

My new weekend routine is wandering down to the bakery in an outfit that I would normally not be caught dead in and stuffing my face with German bread and pastries for the rest of the day.

Today, the outfit is a pair of iridescent mermaid scale leggings and an oversized t-shirt with a smiling avocado on it. The baked goods are a cinnamon roll and a small bag of brotchen.

The bakery is already buzzing with people by the time I make it downstairs. I wait patiently near the small hallway to my room while I wait for my order number to be called out.

Instead, I hear my name.

Ryan appears in front of me, parting the dense crowd to join me. I’m seriously regretting my outfit choice as he looks me up and down and laughs.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Picking up my friend for our hike,” he smirks.

“Oh, I didn’t know you and Olga were so close. I hope you guys have a good time.”

Right on cue, Olga calls my number and shoves a bag of items at me.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Ryan asks.

“Well, considering that no one told me about this alleged hiking trip…yes, this is what I plan to wear while eating a cinnamon roll on my sofa.”

“Did you order two of them?” Ryan peeks inside my bag and looks disappointed by his findings.

“Do you have a concussion? You know that you never once mentioned this to me, right?”

“I thought you might say no,” he shrugs.

“That should be a big hint.”

I start walking down the hallway and up the stairs. Ryan falls into step beside me without an invitation. When we reach the top of the stairs, he doesn’t hesitate to follow me into my apartment.

“We need to work on being friends. We’re doing a terrible job,” he says.

“And you think hiking will somehow fix that?”

“I think spending time together will fix it. But we need to practice outside of work. We’re making everyone uncomfortable,” he laughs.

“Did they tell you that last night at happy hour?”

Ryan shoves his hands in his pockets and drops his gaze. “I didn’t go to happy hour last night.”

“Why? Did you have a hot date instead?”

Apparently, I’m more into fishing than hiking.

“Nope, you?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Ryan’s face drops a little and I can’t say that I don’t enjoy it.

“Well, hopefully he didn’t wear you out too much because you’ve got a long day of hiking ahead of you.”

“I don’t know…Abby was pretty persistent with those double-stuffed Oreos,” I say.

Ryan gives me a mischievous smirk. “Didn’t know you were into double stuffing.”

“Oh, definitely,” I laugh.

“Naughty girl.”

A chill runs down my spine. That voice that’s been echoing in my ear all week, whispering dirty words and making me wear out a perfectly good vibrator, is standing right in front of me. It’s an unfair advantage.

“First rule of being friends: you can’t say things like that to me,” I say.

This only makes his grin widen. He looks at me with those smoldering eyes that make my knees weak.

“Why? Does it get you all hot and bothered?”

“It’s just not…friendly,” I say.

His face straightens and he raises one hand. “No more dirty talk. Scout’s honor.”

“Okay, I’ll go hiking with you on two conditions: no more dirty talk and you have to promise to tell me more about your Boy Scout days.”

“Deal. Now go get changed, or do you want me to come and watch you undress again?”

He jokingly follows me across the tiny living room until my bedroom is in plain view. His jaw drops when he looks past the open door. I glance back, following his line of sight straight to the colorful toys lying on my bed.

I am mortified. I’m the color of a freshly boiled lobster, and the temperature of one, too.

I try my best to laugh coolly and say, “It’s been a long week.”

Ryan says my name softly as I close my bedroom door behind me, leaving him to his own devices in my living room.

And leaving my devices out of his view. I quickly throw them all back in the box and push it under the bed, cursing them for not becoming sentient and figuring out how to put themselves away when we have company.