Page 18

RYAN

Without Marlow, my Saturday morning hike is much less entertaining. I considered asking her to come along, but I figure that showing up at her door unannounced last night was probably about as much as she would tolerate of me over one weekend.

Plus, hanging out alone together two days in a row feels a lot like dating and we’re supposed to be friends.

Just friends.

Fuck, why did I ever ask to be her friend?

At the time, it seemed like being friends was better than nothing.

And I won’t lie – the words ‘friends with benefits’ were looming somewhere in the back of my mind.

There’s no way that sort of arrangement would work for us though.

And it’s not just because Marlow isn’t the type to settle for that. It’s me, too.

When Marlow opened up to me about her childhood, everything changed. It was the emotional equivalent of seeing those tiny imperfections when she slipped out of her dress that night in the hotel room. It’s a small crack in her icy facade. And the more I chip away at those cracks, the harder I fall.

So yeah, I’m falling for Marlow. Hard. I want more than a one-night stand from her. But first, I need her to trust me. I can tell she doesn’t yet. Maybe she never will, but I have to try.

As I’m pulling up to my house after the hike, my phone chimes. Hoping it’s Marlow, I grab it out of my backpack before I’ve even thrown my truck into park.

Instead, it’s Bonnie’s name on the screen.

I open the message, which reads: Eric finally asked me out! followed by a string of emojis that don’t make any sense.

That’s great! I type. Our evil plan worked.

By the time I get inside and toss my gear on the table, Bonnie responds with: I owe you big time! If you ever need a fake date to make someone jealous, I’m your girl.

I laugh. It’s a nice offer, but that’s the exact opposite of what I need right now. That would send Marlow packing faster than ordering her a triple bacon cheeseburger with a side of veal.

Noted , I say to Bonnie before tossing my phone onto my bed and heading to the shower.

___

I hang around the office more than usual the following week.

Marlow seems frazzled, like she’s ready to lose it with all of the interns.

They do seem like a particularly idiotic bunch.

The applications for the program are handled at the regional level, so we never have any say in who they choose.

But if the people they send us are the best of the bunch, I’d be afraid to meet the rest of the applicants.

On Tuesday, I catch Marlow in her office with her palms pressed to her forehead, staring down at absolutely nothing on her desk. I rap my knuckles against her already open door before taking a seat across from her.

“Did you fire them all?” I joke.

“Is that an option?” she asks without looking up at me.

“Not exactly.”

“I have them watching another orientation video. It was the only way I could get Beth to stop asking me highly specific questions that I don’t know the answer to.

Do you know if deforestation or drought has had a bigger impact on the declining population of southeastern five-lined skinks in the region? ”

I laugh. “I don’t even know what a southeastern five-lined skink is.”

“Neither do I! I swear she’s making most of this up just to seem smarter than everyone else,” Marlow says in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Do you want to take a break? I could take over for a little bit.”

Marlow’s eyes widen with surprise and hope. “Are you serious? You’d do that?”

“Of course. My workload is pretty light today.”

“That would be amazing. I am so behind on my other work that I figured I would be here until midnight tonight.”

“Well, since I’m freeing up your evening, I’ll do it on one condition.”

“What?” she asks skeptically.

“You come over tonight and catch up on Shameless .”

Marlow chews her lips for a second and I immediately feel guilty. I meant it as a joke, not an actual ultimatum.

“I mean, I’ll help you out either way. I just thought…”

“What time?” she interrupts.

“Seven?”

“Okay, text me your address.”

___

The interns are every bit as terrible as Marlow described.

One guy seems to think that it is his birthright to fill every single bit of silence with his inane chatter, while the other guy seems to have evolved to sleep (and snore) with his eyes open.

The girl who was so preoccupied with skink populations or whatever has been too shy to speak since I entered the conference room.

The girl from the break room yesterday has the opposite problem. She has unbuttoned the top button of her uniform and giggles at almost everything I say. Eventually, I start to wonder if she accidentally took a handful of MDMA instead of vitamins this morning.

It’s totally worth it though to get to hang out with Marlow tonight.

She shows up at exactly seven o’clock wearing a pair of black leggings and a loose-fitting white sweater. Thank God for that, at least. I love her little sundresses but sitting beside her on my couch and pretending to ignore her bare shoulders and legs would be torture.

We watch two episodes of Shameless . In between, we eat pasta primavera and argue about my taste in beer. When I can’t convince her to drink the IPA that I have in my fridge, she mixes some vodka with grapefruit juice instead.

There are no heavy topics or deep discussions tonight. It feels strangely easy hanging out with her and I don’t want to ruin it by demanding too much. When the second episode ends, Marlow yawns and fishes the keys out of her purse. I walk her out to her car and wave as she backs out of my driveway.

This becomes our new routine. Twice a week, two episodes a night.

We alternate between my house and Marlow’s apartment.

At work, we talk about the show as if we’re personally invested in the characters and can’t wait to see what happens next.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s a good show, but that’s not why I’m excited to watch more of it.

The only thing I’m personally invested in is Marlow.

As for what happens next…well, that remains to be seen.

Picking up women in a bar for the night is easy, but it turns out I’m pretty rusty when it comes to trying to date a woman. So rusty, in fact, that I’m a little worried that I might have a permanent spot in Marlow’s friend zone. It’s better than nothing, but not ideal either.

___

“We have to go to happy hour tonight,” Marlow says on Friday afternoon when we run into each other in the hallway. “People are getting suspicious.”

“Suspicious of what?” I laugh.

“Us.”

It’s true that we’ve skipped happy hour the last two weeks in favor of hanging out and watching Shameless together.

And it’s true that neither of us has mentioned this to anyone else.

Marlow would probably be horrified if anyone found out that we’ve been hanging out, and I keep my mouth shut in hopes that she won’t call the whole thing off just because people are talking.

Apparently, they’re gossiping anyway.

“Alright,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Okay, I’ll see you there.”

Marlow’s eyes linger on mine for a second before she walks off and disappears into her office.

When I turn to go back to my office, Kayla is headed my way. I nod at her. Over the past few weeks, I’ve learned that she’ll latch onto almost anything I say, so a quick nod seems like a safer greeting.

“Hey, Ryan,” she says in a breathy voice. Kayla pauses as if she’s expecting me to stop and talk to her, but I walk straight into my office, shutting the door behind me.

When five o’clock rolls around, I’m a lot less excited to kick off the weekend at happy hour than I was to hang out alone with Marlow. At least I’ll still get to see her at the bar. She better not pull that fake sick bullshit again.

None of the rangers wear their uniforms to the bar.

It doesn’t look good to have a bunch of federal employees downing beer and stumbling home.

Most of us just take off our work shirts and wear whatever t-shirt we have on underneath.

It’s still pretty obvious since we all are wearing dark green pants, but at least we don’t have US Forest Service printed across our chests as we order a round of beer.

Marlow, on the other hand, hates our uniform. She says the fabric is too stiff and scratchy. She always changes into an entirely different outfit before heading to happy hour.

Today is no exception. When she emerges from the women’s bathroom at 5:04, she’s wearing a floral sundress and a pair of brown sandals. Her lips look a little pinker and her hair looks a little neater than it did around lunchtime.

“You look…” Hot. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Fuckable. “…nice.”

She smiles at me, and we fall in line behind the other rangers as we make our way through the lobby. We walk a little slower than everyone else, putting some space between ourselves and the rest of the group.

“So, I figure we can put in an hour of face time here before we sneak out,” Marlow says.

“And where are we sneaking off to?”

“We have a season finale to watch,” she grins up at me. “I’ll leave first. Wait ten minutes or so and then meet me at my place.”