Make a Move

by Meika Usher

  “If I go any further, you’re not going to get out of here anytime soon,” he said, his voice husky.

  Everything below my belly button clenched. In my mind, I saw our future. Me, leaning down to kiss him. Him, pushing me back onto the couch. Me, reaching for his hardness. Him, burying it deep inside me.

  Me, getting up to leave after. Him, watching me go. Hoping I’d call. Hoping this was more than it could ever be.

  Fuck.

  “I’ve got it,” I said, abruptly standing. Nate sank back on his heels, then stood as I tugged the tights up my thighs to my waist. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, a frown settling between his brows. “Did I say something to—“

  “Oh, no.” I tugged my skirt down and attempted a smile. “You’re totally fine. I just...I have to go. I have—“

  “Things to do,” he finished for me, backing up to give me space. We both knew there were no things. We both knew I just wanted to leave. From the corner of my eye, I watched as he pulled his t-shirt from the back of the couch and pulled it on. “Same here.”

  I scanned the room for anything else I may have left behind. My boots lay at the foot of the couch. I reached for them. “It was fun, though,” I said as I stuffed my foot into one. “Really. A lot of—“

  “Fun. Got it.” He smiled, but it didn’t ring true. “I think I’m gonna jump into the shower. You can see yourself out, right?”

  Something twisted harshly inside of me. I winced and forced myself to look away. “Yeah,” I answered, reaching for the second boot. “I got it. Talk to you later?”

  “Sure. Yeah.” Another not-real smile. “You better get going. You’re going to be late for your thing.”

  He left the room before I could say another word. I stood there, one boot on, one off, for a full thirty seconds, staring after him.

  “Fuck,” I whispered, bending to put my other boot on. “I am such an asshole.”

  21: Nate

  “I dunno, man,” Aidan said a couple days later as he unfolded a chair and shoved it against the table. “I think we should at least go take a look.”

  He had chosen the quiet moments before people started filing in for the once-a-month D&D-a-thon to bring up his proposal again. I’d been able to avoid the topic since dinner the other day, but, today, my luck had run out.

  I pushed a chair in and reached for another without looking his way. “Yeah, maybe.”

  Aidan hesitated for a few seconds, his fingers drumming against the back of a still-folded chair. “Okay. I gotta ask.” He unfolded the chair and pushed it into place, then met my eye. “What’s your hold up here?”

  I reached for another chair and unfolded it slowly, letting his question bounce around in my mind. What was my hold up?

  “You ask me,” he continued before I could come up with an answer. “It has a little something to do with your sometimes-debilitating fear of change.”

  My eyes shot to him. “What?”

  “Come on, Nate.” He leaned an elbow on the back of a chair. “You serious?”

  “Yeah.” I shoved in the chair and started for the counter. “Drawing a blank here, man.”

  He followed and pulled out the stool opposite me. “Tell me one new thing you’ve done in the last six months—hell, the last year—and I’ll take it back.” He propped his chin in his hand and lifted a brow. “I’m waiting.”

  I frowned at the register as I hit the necessary buttons to pop the drawer open. “Well,” I started, rummaging through the last six months in my brain. “There was that time I switched brands of laundry detergent.”

  There was also the time I fell asleep on the couch with my best friend’s sister. But I couldn’t say that part aloud. Also, pretty sure I wouldn’t be hearing from Birdie again, if the way she seized up on me the other morning was anything to go by.

  But I wasn’t going to think about that.

  “So you switched from All to Arm & Hammer, and you think that’s a big change?” Aidan smirked. “I rest my case.”

  “No, I switched from Arm & Hammer to All.” I picked up the one’s and stared hard at them, annoyed that his argument had any validity. “There’s a difference.”

  “Oh, my bad.” Aidan waved his hands in the air. “I stand corrected.”

  “You’re an ass,” I grumbled, thumbing through the cash. “And your case is not rested.”

  I could feel Aidan’s gaze on me as he unfolded another chair and slid it beneath the table. I looked up as I put the stack of one’s back in the drawer. “Say what you wanna say, man.”

  He abandoned the half-stack of chairs that still needed to be set up to join me at the counter. Climbing onto the stool, he rested his elbows on the counter, his eyes earnest. “Have you thought that maybe—”

  “That’s it. I give up.” Sunny sailed into the shop, cutting off whatever Aidan had been about to say. “I am eloping. Fuck this wedding thing.”

  “Hey, Sunny.” Aidan climbed off of the stool to offered it to her. I fought back the urge to roll my eyes and returned to the cash drawer in front of me. “Nate just showed me the latest draft of Zombitch.” His eyes lit up, and it would’ve been cute if it weren’t for the sheer amount of ass-kissery behind it. Aidan’s nerd-crush on Sunny was legendary. And more than a little embarrassing. “So. Good.”

  “Thanks.” Sunny smiled at him, then looked my way. “Your brother’s really been on top of his game lately.”

  “Oh, for sure,” Aidan said, nodding quickly. “For sure. But you—“

  “Aidan,” I cut in. “Could you stop fan-jizzing all over my best friend and finish setting up the chairs?”

  Aidan’s cheeks reddened. “Got it,” he said, backing away. “Sorry.”

  “You’re a dick,” Sunny said once he was out of earshot. She reached across the counter and whacked me on the arm. “He’s so sweet.”

  “He’s all right,” I said, rubbing my arm. Sometimes, I swore Sunny was really the Hulk in disguise. “What’re you doing here?”

  She tossed a plastic bag on the counter and gave me a smug look. “Brought you pie.”

  “What?” I reached for the bag, pulling out a clear plastic container. “Why?”

  “Because you’re pretty.” She grinned. “And I’m hoping bribery will convince you to help me with Cat.” She shuddered dramatically. “She’s driving me crazy with all this wedding stuff. Like, dude. Ben just popped the question. I’m not even thinking about what underwear I’m wearing tomorrow, let alone what I’ll wear under my wedding dress.”

  “Okay, awkward best friend is awkward,” I interjected as I cracked open the container and reached for the fork she’d stashed in the bag. Blueberry pie. My favorite. “Why don’t you tell her that?”

  “Hello?” Sunny waved a hand in front of my face. “Have you met Cat? She may be the most stubborn person on this planet.”

  I snorted. “I somehow doubt that.”

  “What are you insinuating?” she growled. “And think carefully about your answer.”

  I sent her a flat look, unfazed. “I don’t think I need to clarify.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky I need you for Zombitch,” she said. “Otherwise...” She ran an index finger across her neck, indicating just what my fate would be.

  “Uh huh.” I lifted a bite of pie to my mouth. “Never mind the fact that I’m one of, like, three people you actually like.”

  “That could change at any moment, buddy,” she shot back, an almost-smile killing the threat before it could land. “Just keep talking.”

  I grinned and shoved a forkful of pie into my mouth.

  “Speaking of Zombitch,” she continued, resting her elbows on the counter. “How’s it going? You haven’t checked in for a few days. And I don’t wanna push, but...”

  “Deadline is looming,” I finished. Guilt, acrid and hot, rose in my chest. What would she say if I told her I’d been stuck for weeks? What would she think if I said even the thought of our feisty, zombie-
slaying heroine had filled me with dread lately?

  You’re lucky I need you for Zombitch.

  I swallowed tightly and dropped my fork. This was stupid. Sunny was my best friend. My co-author. The exact person I should be talking to about this latest block. “Sun,” I started, wiping my hands on my jeans. “I—”

  “Nate, where did you put the—“ Aidan stopped short as he reached the counter, eyes flitting from me to Sunny. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Sunny looked from me to Aidan. “It’s all right, man,” she said, holding up her phone. “Apparently, I have to go. Cat’s sending me pictures of pug-size bridesmaid dresses, and I just...” She shook her head. “Yzma’s basically old as dirt. I don’t think she’ll be okay with being stuffed into a frilly pink dress.” She stood and looked my way. “As my maid of honor, shouldn’t you be rescuing me from these things?”

  “Co-maid of honor,” I corrected, somewhat bitterly. I hadn’t heard from the other person in this equation since she fled my house two days ago, and I didn’t expect to anytime soon. Which was going to make this co-maids of honor thing super tricky.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Sunny waved me off and climbed off the stool. “Speaking of, I need my co-maids of honor to meet me at Molly’s Bakery next week. Jack has offered up his services for the wedding cake.”

  “Wow,” I replied, drumming my fingers against the counter. “Nice of him.”

  “Super nice,” Sunny replied, only the slightest trace of her trademark snark in her words. “Anyway, I’d like my maids of honor to help me pick a flavor.”

  “Cake tasting?” I perked up. “That’s a wedding duty I can get behind.”

  She smirked. “I figured you’d be on board.”

  “Oh, shit.” I glanced at the calendar on the wall. “What day next week?”

  Sunny raised a brow. “Why? You got a hot date, stud?”

  I barked a laugh. “Hardly. Anya’s gonna be in town.”

  “Ahh.” Tossing her bag over her shoulder, Sunny backed up a few steps. “Bring her along. I’ll text you and Birdie the details later. In the meantime...dude, seriously. Deadline.”

  “Got it.” I gave her a weak smile and half a wave. Something surged in my stomach, hot and sharp. Deadline-or-Birdie-related, I couldn’t tell. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I think I’m gonna need it.” She headed for the exit. “Pug dresses,” she mumbled as she yanked the door open. “You gotta be kidding me.”

  Once she was through the door and stomping up the sidewalk, Aidan turned to me. He was quiet for a long few seconds, and I could tell he had something to say.

  I grabbed the handful of pennies again. “Yes?” I prompted, jangling the pennies in my palm.

  He didn’t speak immediately. I could feel him studying me as I counted the coins, dropping them into the drawer one loud clank at a time. Once I finished and reached for the nickels, he spoke. “You’ve never been late for a deadline. You’ve never even cut it close.”

  I looked up. The coins sat heavy in my hand, but not as heavy as the sinking in my gut. “I know.”

  “What’s going on, man?” The concern in his eyes pierced into me. “There something you need to talk about?”

  I looked away and dropped a few coins into the drawer with a loud clatter. “Nah. I’m good.” Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, I counted silently. “Totally fine.”

  I could feel his stare on me as I continued to drop nickels into the drawer. He was going to push. Ask more questions. Questions I didn’t want to answer. Questions I didn’t have answers to.

  The bells above the door jangled before he could speak, and I exhaled my relief as the members of Mortal Synergy walked in, some in costume, some not.

  Aidan turned to them, conversation crisis averted. “Lowell! Bobby! Good to see you guys.”

  I tuned out their chatter as I finished counting the drawer and assembled the bank deposit in record time. The teensiest of lulls in their conversation would bring Aidan back to me. And that was a conversation that could just keep on waiting.

  Pulling on my coat, I grabbed my backpack. “All right,” I said to Aidan as I started toward the exit, almost speed walking. “I’m out.”

  Aidan left the growing group of people to join me at the door. “You sure you’re—”

  “I’m good.” I pushed open the door. “Just in a hurry. I’m on deadline, you know.”

  Outside, I inhaled the sharp, cold air and squinted as fat snowflakes hung fell around me. I was on deadline. A heavy, looming deadline that would likely be the end of me. But right now, in this moment, going home to stare at the harsh glow of my computer screen was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want to think about Zombitch, and I didn’t want to think about Floppies 2. I didn’t want to think Aidan’s words or the accuracy in them, either.

  I didn’t want to think at all.

  A fat snowflake landed on my shoulder and I watched it melt into the black wool of my coat. As another joined it, then another, an image flashed through my brain. Birdie, head flung back, eyes closed, as she joyfully reveled in every tiny bit of snow falling around her.

  My feet took a left and carried me the opposite direction of home.

  If turning my brain off was what I needed, I knew exactly how to make that happen.

  22: Birdie

  “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this.” I gritted my teeth and squeezed the pencil in my hand so tight I was sure it’d explode into splinters. “I will not tattoo Yosemite Sam on your ass cheek.”

  Julian leaned back in his seat and groaned. “Come on, Bird! I don’t ask for much.”

  “One.” I whirled in my chair to face him and held up an index finger. “I have a ton of work to do. Paying work. And two.” I lifted a second finger. “I do not want to see your hairy ass.”

  “My ass is not hairy.” Julian crossed his arms over his chest. “My ass is smooth as silk.”

  “Okay, now that’s just weird.” I spun back to my desk. “I don’t know why you would tell me that. Or why you would brag about it.”

  “Wouldn’t you brag about it?” he shot back, brows lifted in challenge. “I’m fairly sure you have bragged about it.”

  “No,” I drawled, turning toward him again. “What I said was, my ass is sculpted from the finest china. There’s a difference.”

  “Just as weird,” he grumbled, turning back to his desk. “Not the point, anyway.”

  “No, the point is, you want me to spend hours leaning over your ass, drawing an obnoxiously annoying cartoon character.” I paused, eyes widening. “Oh. That’s why you want him, isn’t it? You see yourself in him.”

  Julian shot a dark look my way, though I could see amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Oh, I know.” I grinned. “It’s one of my better qualities.”

  Before he could say anything else, I pushed away from my desk and stood. My seven o’clock was here.

  I slid to a stop when I hit the waiting room. My client, a twenty-something woman, was sitting head-to-head with Veronica. If the sly smile on Veronica’s face was anything to go by, they were hitting it off. My stomach gnarled. Not again.

  Not. A-fucking-gain.

  “Jen?”

  At the sound of my voice, both women looked up. Veronica’s smile didn’t even slip. It irritated me how unaffected she was when it came to me. Like I was a goddamn cockroach under the toe of her high heel boot.

  Forcing a smile onto my lips, I gestured behind me, toward my station. “I’m ready for you.”

  “Oh.” Jen looked back to Veronica, disappointment clear on her face. “Okay. I just...”

  She trailed off, and Veronica slid into the silence like a vat of ooze. “You should call me sometime.” Then, grabbing a pen off the front desk, she scribbled her name and number onto Jen’s inner forearm. Right where my tattoo was supposed to go.

  I gritted my teeth, but maintained my smile as a flustered Jen walked toward me. “All
set?”

  “Huh?” Jen blinked her baby doll eyes and struggled to focus on my face. “Oh. Yeah.” She smiled. “Yeah!”

  “Great!” I could feel Veronica watching us, and I didn’t need to look to know she was smirking. “Let’s get started, then.”

  THREE HOURS LATER, I finished wrapping Jen’s arm, brand new inspirational saying complete. Live. Laugh. Love. I’d resisted an eye roll when she told me on the phone. My third one this month.

  “It’s my mantra,” Jen had said as I leaned over her arm, tattoo gun vibrating in my hand. “It’s just...it, you know?”

  “Oh, I know,” I’d agreed, passing a smile her way.

  I didn’t have much patience by that point. Veronica and her phone number stunt had put me behind. Jen insisted on taking a picture of the phone number scrawled on her arm, but she couldn’t get the right angle. After four or five tries, I jumped in and took the damn picture. Then, there was the washing off, and of course it was permanent marker.

  If it weren’t for the shred of pride I’d managed to maintain throughout the Veronica situation, I’d have marched my ass over to her and...fuck, I don’t know. Punched her in the face? Kicked her in the taco? Something.

  “Thanks again,” Jen said now, and I blinked, refocusing my attention on her. “I really do love it.”

  “Oh, I’m glad.” Smile. “We’ll get you some after care instructions on your way out.”

  She nodded and stood from her seat, still staring, moony-eyed, in Veronica’s direction. I took off my gloves and threw them in the trash, stifling an eye roll. “Have a good night.”

  After I finished cleaning up my station and putting everything away, I grabbed my coat from the rack and pushed through the front door. “Jesus,” I muttered as I shoved my arms into the coat. I was used to awkward situations at work ever since Veronica and I split, but this was a new one. Never had to scrub my ex’s number off a girl’s arm before.

  Shoving my hands into my pockets, I pushed forward. I needed a burger in a bad way. I also needed a new job, but one of those was a hell of a lot easier to find than the other.