by Kira Adams
“You know, I can’t always be your knight in shining armor,” Tyson says, his eyes trained on the road.
“I know,” I say in a small voice. “Things feel different between us.”
He shifts his eyes quickly from the road to me and then back again. “What did you expect?” he asks, shortly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I press.
“It means that I misread things, and tried to kiss you and you pushed me away.” I glance at him quickly, my heart plummeting. So you did remember…
“Tyson…” I begin, but am interrupted.
“It’s okay, Bryce. I’ve been looking for that answer for a long time, and you gave it to me.” He shuts me down. I can tell he’s hurt, and it kills me because I know I am the cause for it.
“It’s not that easy,” I protest. “Pull the car over.”
“Actually, Bryce, it is that easy, and you’re almost home, no need to prolong this.”
“You’re asking for something from me that I can’t give to anyone. You’re pushing me. I’m not ready.” I don’t want to lose you, Tyson, but I feel pressured.
“All I’m asking you to do is take a leap of faith. My feelings for you are far deeper than a simple friendship. I lo—“
I can’t let him finish. My mind is already finishing his sentence for him, and it’s scaring the living hell out of me. “Don’t,” I say softly. “The minute you cross that line, we can’t ever go back. No rewind button. You’re my best friend, Tyson. I can’t lose you.”
Tyson sighs, reaching out the back of his hand and lightly grazing it across my cheek. “Let me show you the kind of love you deserve,” he murmurs.
I close my eyes for a brief moment, trying to imagine it. What if we find out we’re better off as friends? What if it ruins our bond forever? What if we cross that line and can never go back to the way things were?
“You have been the only person in my life apart from my family, who has been there for me through it all. You know firsthand what I’ve been through, you were there.” I pause, carefully pondering over my next statement. “If the timing were different, maybe I would be interested in pursuing a deeper connection…but, I still have a lot of problems, Tyson. It would be unfair of me to expect anyone to put up with my drama right now. I want to positively affect someone’s life. Not the opposite.”
Tyson pulls his hand away from my face, putting it back on the steering wheel. I can still feel the heat on my cheek. He’s bothered by my words. I can tell from the look on his face.
“There is going to come a time, Bryce, when I can’t wait any longer. There will come a time when I meet someone else, and I know how terrible regrets can be.” He looks over at me and then continues through a stop sign. “Look,” he says softly. “Nothing is going to change between us, if anything, we are just going to connect on a deeper level.”
I feel like he is giving me an award winning sales pitch, but I’m having trouble overcoming my hesitation. It’s not you, it’s me. “You are…nothing short of incredible. I’m definitely not blind or stupid, but I need you to resume your role as my best friend; the reliable, funny, trustworthy guy who doesn’t cross boundaries like this.” I shift in my seat. “I miss you. I miss us. This pressure is destroying us, and I’m not ready to lose you.”
The air grows thick with tension. I glance over at Tyson and he is grinding his jaw, slowly.
Nothing else is said. He pulls up in front of my house, and I pause before exiting the car. “Are we good?”
Tyson continues staring forward, his lips in a tight line. “Yeah,” he says in a course tone.
I’m still not convinced, so I unbuckle and then lean towards him, pressing my lips to his cheek. Some of the tension alleviates. When I pull away, our mouths are dangerously close. I am breathing his air and he mine. “There aren’t enough words in the dictionary to explain how I feel about you. You’ll know when I’m ready.”
Tyson nods his head gently. “Goodnight.”
I reach for the handle, hopping out of his small car. He waves as he drives off. Once in my house, I head straight for my room. My heart is thumping wildly in my chest. I can’t stop thinking about Tyson’s lips and how close they were to mine. He’s your best friend. You wanted this. I shake the thoughts off lightly as I undress. My legs are still warm from the alcohol, but that conversation sobered me up.
I catch a glimpse of my imperfect body in the mirror, and I wince. It’s been more than a year, and I still want to cry when I see the damage that has been done to it. I find myself disgusting. I pick at my rubbery skin, pulling it from my body to inspect.
No one will ever accept my body the way it is if I can’t accept it myself. I’m beyond self-conscious at this point. It’s unfair of me to be with anyone until I can learn to love my own body. The silver lining in all of this is that whoever I end up with next will be someone I am madly in love with. It will be someone I trust and feel safe with.
Eight: Making Good on My Assignment
I wake up with a loud groan.
How much did I have to drink last night?
I roll over onto my back, pushing my short hair out of my eyes. The room is spinning and my stomach feels like a tidal wave is rising from the depths. I have a splitting headache and the brightness from the sun sneaking its way through my blinds is paralyzing. I went a bit overboard last night.
When I made it home, I spent the majority of my time puking in the bathroom. No amount of sourdough bread or water could save me.
The worst part of it all? I remember everything. The trip to the adult store, the group vibrator choices and purchases, the strip club, and then Tyson.
The bride-to-be was baring it all on stage with the employees of Cheetah’s when he rolled up out front. He wanted to take our relationship to the next level, and I was crippled by my fear. My body, our friendship, and my own insecurities all played a role.
I push my short locks off my forehead, staring at the ceiling. What if Tyson’s right? What if I’m not ready for a long time and he meets someone else? What if he really falls for her? What if he gets married?
I pinch my forehead, my thoughts making the headache worse. You’re doing the right thing.
I glance at the clock on my nightstand. Ten thirty. Linda has been scheduling appointments more often now that I’ve been more independent. She knows how significant of a change it has been on my life, and she wants to make sure I can handle it all and I’m not all just talk. She will be here in a little over five hours. I close my eyes and bury my head further into my pillow. I’m hoping that I can sleep this off.
* * *
“A job?” Linda asks, her eyebrows raising, surprised.
I nod, fighting back a smile.
“Bryce, that’s fantastic.” She is congratulating me, but she is also taking notes on my progress. I wait diligently as she finishes jotting down her thoughts. “First you make it out of the house, and now you’re falling right back into normal routines. That is so great. Tell me about it.”
“My job?” I ask for clarification.
She nods, her eyes locked on my face.
“I am a receptionist for a local salon, Salon 553.”
She continues bobbing her head enthusiastically, taking notes. “How are you liking it?”
I shrug. “I have my first shift tomorrow.”
Linda smiles back at me, her light brown eyes gleaming. “That is so exciting.”
I nod. It really is. I’m not even sure how it will all go down tomorrow. To say I’m nervous is the understatement of the year.
Linda sets her pen down on her notepad and looks at me. “How are things going with Tyson?”
I sigh. Because Tyson has been my only friend for the past year, he’s been a topic of our meetings quite often. Normally I don’t mind her bringing him up, as he’s always been such a positive influence for me, as far as she’s concerned. But now that he’s been distancing himself from me, it’s different. I’m searching for the right words
to explain what is even going on between us when she cocks her head to the side. “Are things alright between the two of you?”
I never mentioned to her about the fact that Tyson tried to kiss me. I guess now is as good a time as any. “When my parents went out of town, Tyson stayed with me so I wouldn’t be alone.”
She nods. “I remember. That was the weekend you overcame your fear.”
I inhale, nodding. “That was also the weekend he tried to kiss me.”
Her eyes widen, and then something flashes across her face. I’m curious what she’s thinking. She picks up her pen and begins writing. “And how did that make you feel?”
I stifle a laugh. “Um, confused? Pressured? I don’t know what I was supposed to be feeling.”
She lifts her eyes to mine again. “There is no right or wrong answer, Bryce. The only thing that matters is how you felt about it.”
I rub my forehead, frustrated. “I was pissed. He made me feel upset. We are best friends. We’ve been best friends since…” I trail off, my voice quivering. “I don’t want to lose that.”
She nods understandingly. “Were you upset because you don’t feel the same way, or were you upset because you’re scared to lose that friendship?”
I open my mouth to answer before realizing I’m not even sure I know the answer. “I…I…” I swallow, attempting to slow my frantic heart. Suddenly, the beating is pounding loudly inside of my ears, and it’s all I can focus on.
Linda looks at me sympathetically. “Bryce, I’m not trying to put you on the spot here. If you’re not comfortable answering that, it’s okay.”
My eyes shift around the room, looking anywhere but into hers. When did things get so complicated?
There is an uncomfortable silence before Linda fills it. “Bryce, I’m not going to ask any more questions regarding this issue, but I want you to know that if and when you are ready to talk about it, I will be here.”
I nod, still not bothering to look her in the eyes.
She goes back to jotting in her notepad. I glance up at the clock on the wall, thankful that our session is just about up.
“You’ve made such amazing progress these past couple of weeks, Bryce. I want you to know how proud I am of you.” I glance up, finally finding the courage inside of me to lock eyes with her. Her eyes are non-judgmental and kind.
I force a smile upon my face. “Thank you.”
“However, I am worried that you might still be holding yourself back. I’m worried that there may not be enough motivation outside of your new job to keep you moving forward,” she says honestly.
I swallow, digesting her words.
“I have a new homework assignment for you,” she says, setting her pen down, her brown eyes locking with mine. “I want you to try to make one new friend, either through work or through another avenue.”
I nod.
The idea of making a new friend is absolutely terrifying to me, but Linda is right; without Tyson, there isn’t much motivation for me out in the real world apart from my job, and it’s completely in my power to change that.
* * *
I spend ample time getting ready for my first day of work. I probably change outfits at least six times, looking for something that is business-casual, while also comfortable. I settle on a long sleeve sheer navy blouse and black tank underneath along with black slacks.
Because I’m so anxious, I end up arriving at the salon nearly thirty minutes early. I stay in my car for the next fifteen minutes, attempting to slow my sped up heartbeat. It’s not like I’ve never had a job before. That’s not what I’m nervous about. I’m nervous about interacting with all different types of people. Because I’ve been spending so much time alone, I’m not sure I remember how to play well with others.
I take a deep breath before exiting my car and heading for my new place of employment. As I enter the high-end salon, multiple pairs of eyes stare me down. “Can I help you, dear?” A middle-aged woman with wavy blond hair and a kind smile asks from her station.
I nod. “Actually, it’s my first day.”
Her eyes trail my body from top to bottom before her smile returns. “Oh my gosh, you must be Bryce!” she exclaims excitedly, stepping away from her client and walking toward me.
Her blue eyes are kind and her smile so big, I’m instantly put at ease. I nod again.
She shuffles over to me, pulling me into a warm hug. “Welcome, welcome, we are so happy to have you.”
My eyes shift around to the rest of the hair stylists, which are all focused on our interaction. Some are smiling, some are staring, and at least one is glaring. Great. I’m not big on being the center of attention.
“I’m Mel,” she says as soon as she releases me from her embrace. She ushers me to the front desk area and motions to it with her hand. “This is going to be your new home. I’ll get Janet.”
Janet spends the next four hours training me on phone etiquette, the computer system, scheduling appointments, and more and then it’s finally time for me to take a lunch break. The salon I work at is unique in the fact that it has a break room for the employees. It’s small, only a few round tables and chairs, but there are vending machines, a kitchenette, and even a fridge and microwave. I didn’t think to bring a lunch, so I purchase a bag of chips and hope that will suffice until I get off.
There is only one other person in the break room, so instead of sitting by myself like I normally would, I take Linda’s homework to heart and approach a beautiful girl immersed in her phone. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
She doesn’t even bother acknowledging me by looking up, just waves me off. I’m not sure if she is saying it’s alright or not okay. I assume the prior and sit down with her anyways. “I’m Bryce,” I say, hoping to steal her attention away from her iPhone.
The brunette is tall and leggy, with long straight dark hair and perfect make-up. She finally looks up, gives me the once over, and then her eyes dart back to her phone. “Trista,” she says in a bored voice.
She looks like she just walked off the cover of a magazine. She has to be one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on, but her lack of interest is disheartening.
I open my bag of chips and begin eating them when her eyes shift up to me, and it’s as if she’s disgusted by my actions. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Am I making too much noise?”
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. She reaches into her black leather purse which is seated next to her on top of the table and pulls out a plastic bag of apple slices. “I can’t believe you can eat that crap.” She motions with her head toward my bag of chips.
I shrug. “I have a pretty high metabolism. I can basically eat whatever I want as long as I don’t go overboard.”
She sighs loudly, opening the plastic Ziploc bag in front of her. “Must be nice. I gain weight just by looking at that crap.”
My eyes scan her body quickly. I have no idea what she is talking about. She is in better shape than I am. Some might go as far as to say she is overly skinny. “You look great,” I say.
Her eyes roam her own body and a disgusted look plays upon her face. “I need to lose five pounds.”
I shrug. “I think you’re perfect.”
She sighs loudly, closing the Ziploc bag and throwing it back in her purse. “I have to get back to work.”
She stands up from the table, turning toward the door.