Maybe Someone Like You

by Stacy Wise

  It’s nine thirty. Ryan’s face floats into my mind, giving me that sincere look, asking me to go for a run. To make sure I’m alive and kicking. God, I hope I didn’t make a complete fool of myself last night. I lay my head back on my pillow and pull the covers up to my chin. I’m in no shape to go anywhere right now, let alone participate in something that requires any type of movement. I take a swig of water from the bottle on my nightstand and snuggle back into a little ball.

  Ding! My phone chimes with a text, and I pull the covers over my ears, ignoring it. Just relax and go back to sleep.

  But what if there’s an emergency? I sit up quickly and feel like my head might fall right off my neck. I stare at my phone until the words finally come into focus.

  Meet at the pier for our jog. C U at 10!

  Ryan. I can’t flake after the way he helped me, even though I’m embarrassed he saw me hammered. With a sigh, I throw back my covers. A little fresh air will probably be good for me. I haul myself out of bed and go through the motions of getting ready. Once my teeth are clean and I’ve swished enough mouthwash to rid the wooly dryness from my mouth, I wriggle into my black exercise leggings and slip on my Loyola Law T-shirt. After splashing cold water on my face for a full minute, I start to feel slightly human again. I even manage to get my hair into some semblance of a ponytail without increasing the pain in my head.

  Minutes later, I tiptoe out the door, careful not to wake Lauren. The sun is bright, and I flick my sunglasses in place as I walk the four blocks down to the pier. Ryan’s already there with a dog that could be a pit bull sitting next to him.

  “Hi.” I glance from Ryan to the dog, which has sleek gray fur and ears that look like they were cropped with scissors. “Who’s this little guy?” I kneel in front of him and offer the back of my hand.

  “He’s a she. This is Siri.” He rubs behind her stubby ears, causing her short tail to thump furiously.

  “You named your dog Siri?”

  He nods. “Always here when I need her. Smart, too.”

  “She seems sweet,” I say, standing.

  “That she is. I found her near the freeway on-ramp. Someone obviously dumped her. Probably wanted to train her to fight.”

  “Sad.”

  “Yeah. She has a great life now. Jogs on the beach every morning. Lives with me,” he adds with a grin. “Doesn’t get better than that.”

  “Lucky dog.” As soon as the words are out, guilt socks me in the gut. I’m supposed to be managing my feelings, not acting on them. I turn my gaze to the ocean. The sunshine lights up the water, making it look like it’s been sprinkled with diamonds.

  “Are you feeling okay today?”

  I turn back to him. “Yeah. Thanks again for helping me last night. I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I hope I didn’t do anything to embarrass myself.”

  He moves to stretch out his quads. “Do what I’m doing. And you were fine. Where’d you meet the asshole you were with, anyway?”

  I switch legs, pulling my left foot back to my left thigh, feeling the strain. “Bookstore.”

  “Had you gone out more than once?”

  “Nope. It was our first date. And last. I guess that’s axiomatic.”

  “Can I give you a piece of advice?”

  “Sure.”

  The sun catches his eyes. They looked blue last night, but today, here in the sunlight, they shine like emeralds. “Don’t go out with assholes, okay?”

  I roll my eyes at him. “I’ll try not to. Sometimes it’s hard to sniff them out. Come on, let’s go before I decide to skip the run for something more appealing, like my bed.”

  “Not a chance.” And he takes off, Siri running by his side. “Come on, Katie.” There’s a smile in his voice, and I race after him.

  With the first five minutes behind us, my legs take over, doing what they’ve done for so many years with ease. The cool air nips at my face, stinging but invigorating. Ryan and I fall into stride, easily keeping pace with each other. He could speed ahead of me without any effort, but it’s nice he doesn’t.

  We reach the neighboring pier in La Playita and turn to go back to La Playa. One and a half more miles and we’re done. I’m thankful he didn’t want to go farther. As good as it feels to move, I’m afraid if I push myself too hard, I’ll end up sick.

  We ease to a stop when we reach our starting point, both of us placing our hands on our hips and slowing our breathing. He pulls up his T-shirt to wipe sweat from his forehead and my jaw drops. His stomach is perfection. I can’t say I haven’t wondered if he has tattoos on his torso, but now I know. He doesn’t.

  He drops his shirt and leans to pat Siri, praising her for doing a great job. “I should get back to my place to get her some water. You want to walk with me? It’s just over there.” He points to a group of bungalows surrounding a grassy courtyard that I’ve passed a million times on my way down to the beach. He lives a mere three blocks from my apartment.

  “Sure. It’s on my way home.”

  Siri tugs at the leash when we reach the courtyard. Ryan releases her, and she takes off to the second door on the left. “I told you she’s smart,” he says, his eyes on his dog. “She knows she’ll get a treat once she’s inside. Come on.”

  “Do you have a roommate?”

  “Nah. It’s a one bedroom,” he says, tossing Siri a dog treat once we get inside.

  I survey the place quickly, not wanting to look overly curious. The furniture is rustic pine, and a red plaid blanket is draped over the brown leather sofa. My first thought is that it’s manly in here, but in more of a Sundance catalog way than I’d expect of Ryan. He takes Siri’s bowl and adds fresh water to it while she sits next to him, face up, watching his every move.

  He places it back on a special mat for her, and she lies down to drink, her paws by the bowl. “She eats that way, too. It’s the funniest thing.” He turns his gaze to me. “So I have a question for you. Have you ever ridden a Harley?”

  “As in Davidson?”

  He nods.

  “No.”

  “You want to? There’s a place up the coast I’m heading to for some lunch if you’d like to check it out with me.”

  “I don’t have a helmet.” Well, I own a bicycle helmet, but I’m pretty sure a specific type of helmet is required for motorcycles.

  “I’ve got a spare.”

  Oh. I didn’t consider that. Shoot. Do I want to go? It sounds dangerous. But daring. Different. “I think my mom would kill me.”

  He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Up to you. I promise you’ll be in good hands. Your mom wouldn’t have to worry,” he adds.

  I slide my fingers through my ponytail, thinking. “Can we swing by my place so I can change my shirt?”

  “Sure. I should change mine, too, now that you mention it. Hang on a sec, and I’ll be right back.”

  He heads to what I assume is his bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks. I try not to stare, but it’s futile. I’ve never seen a body like his in real life. On the cover of Men’s Health or in sexy firefighter calendars, sure, but never across the room from me. His muscles are so sculpted, if I knew the names of each one, I could take a Sharpie to his skin and label them. They’re that perfect. Asian symbols cover his left shoulder. I wonder what they mean. He suddenly turns, causing my heart to race. Could he sense me staring? “Grab some water if you want. Cups are in the cupboard to the left of the sink.”

  “Right. Thanks.” I gesture to his shoulder, wishing I was close enough to run my hand across it. “So what do the symbols mean?”

  “You checking out my back?” he asks, slinging his shirt over his shoulder with a satisfied grin.

  “Hard not to,” I say, feeling emboldened. Maybe it’s my lack of sleep or the humor in his eyes, but dammit, I’m putting it out there that I notice him. Well, sort of. Because before he can respond, I add, “It’s a really cool tattoo.”

  He runs a hand across his chest, and I try not to hyperventilate. “And here
I thought you were looking at me.” He cocks a brow, and I swear it feels like an invitation, but my mouth is dry, and my heart is racing so fast he may need to perform CPR if I can’t get a grip soon. He’s half naked and sweaty for God’s sake. “It means pain is temporary.”

  “Ha. Ironic.”

  He frowns. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t care what you said before. Getting the tattoo had to be painful.”

  Puffing his chest, he says, “I’m a dude. I didn’t feel a thing.”

  “Liar.”

  He laughs as he turns toward his room. Once he’s out of sight, I ease next to Siri, who is now chewing a rubber shark in her dog bed. I try to imagine Ryan at the pet store, roaming the aisles for the perfect toy. Why’d he choose a shark? Did he bring Siri with him and wait for her to nose one from the shelf? Or maybe he just ordered it off Amazon. “You’re a lucky little girl, you know that?” I pet her soft, silvery fur, and she abandons her toy to give my hand a friendly lick.

  “Okay. You ready?” Ryan asks, reappearing. He’s wearing a long-sleeve shirt, and his hair is pushed back with a few strands hanging forward, as though he ran some gel through it and tousled.

  “Yep.”

  He grabs his keys and helmet from a table near the door. “See you later, Siri. Be good.”

  We reach his small garage, and he secures his helmet before taking another from a shelf and handing it to me. Once I have it on, he helps me with the chin strap. “We’re all set.” He turns to the motorcycle, patting its seat. “There’re two things you need to know before you get on. First, these get hot,” he says, pointing to the metal things near the wheels. “So don’t touch them. Keep your feet on the pegs, right here. Second, hold on to me. If I lean left, you lean left. Think of it like we’re one unit on the bike.”

  I nod, and heat creeps up my chest. He’s talking only about how to properly ride a motorcycle. I clear my throat. “You promise not to do anything reckless, right? Because I really don’t want to die on a motorcycle.”

  “I won’t have a chance to do anything reckless. It’ll take us only a minute to get to your place. Now once we’re on PCH…well, that’s another story. I was thinking we could do some stunts. You in?”

  “Shut up.”

  He laughs as he sits on the bike, reaching out a hand. “Climb on, and don’t forget to hold on tight. I promise I’ll go slow.”

  Telling my galloping heart to calm down, I ease onto the back of the bike, careful to position my feet on the pegs. Where to put my hands is a bit trickier. There’s no choice but to wrap my arms around his muscled stomach. It’d be easier if I hadn’t seen his bare torso today. He revs the engine, and I throw my arms around his waist, the fear he’ll take off before I’m situated overriding the fear of putting my hands on him.

  “You ready?” he shouts.

  “Yeah.” Oh my God. I’m so not ready for this. But he revs the engine again, and we roll forward. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath, praying we don’t go any faster than this, and repeating, I will not fall off. I will not. I will not.

  Minutes later, we arrive at my place, and he rolls to a stop near the bottom of the stairs that lead to my apartment. “I’ll only be a sec,” I say, removing my helmet.

  Once inside, I dash to my bedroom and rip off my shirt, scrambling to put on deodorant and spritzing my stomach with my lavender dry body oil, hoping it’ll calm me down, with the added bonus of making me smell nice. I slide on a cute turquoise long-sleeve T-shirt and redo my hair into a sleek low ponytail. As an afterthought, I swig some mouthwash, sweep on rosy lip gloss, and shove two twenty-dollar bills in my shoe before rushing back out.

  I take the stairs one at a time, as though I’m in no rush at all.

  Because I’m not.

  It’s just lunch with a friend.

  As we cruise through the downtown area, I try not to notice how warm his body is against mine. He speeds up as we turn onto the highway, and I press in to him. It’s really a matter of survival.

  The wind blows my ponytail out from under the helmet, and I feel the rush of freedom. The sun feels warm on my back as we drive up the coast, blazing past the beachfront homes in Malibu.

  He suddenly slows to turn off the highway, and we snake up a curved road where he parks in a dirt lot. When I slide off the bike, cold air creeps into the pocket of warmth that was nestled between us only seconds ago. My legs feel all wobbly as I stand, but it’s no big deal. I’m flying high from the ride.

  Floating.

  Soaring.

  Ryan grabs my arm to steady me, his gaze open and bright. “So can I assume from your smile that you enjoyed the ride up here?”

  “It was amazing!”

  “You see why I love this thing? It’s a total rush.”

  “I was terrified at first, but then, I don’t know. It made me feel free,” I say, spreading my arms wide.

  He smiles. “I was hoping you’d like it. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.” We walk toward the restaurant—a burnt orange adobe structure that looks like it was transported from a colorful city in New Mexico. Wind chimes made of brightly colored glass clink merrily in the shade trees.

  We walk in, and sun shines through open windows. My running shoes leave prints in the sawdust-covered floor, and I make a swirly line before taking a seat on the barstool at our table. The waitress brings us crunchy homemade tortilla chips along with tomatillo salsa and tall glasses of water with lime wedges anchored on the sides. We decide to order the grilled shrimp tapas with guajillo sauce and banana leaf tamales, because neither one of us has tried them before.

  “It feels like we’re in another world up here, doesn’t it? Like the real-world crap can’t reach us.”

  It feels like an opening. “What kind of real-world crap?”

  He shakes his head. “I was telling my sister about that girl, Gina, and she said I should’ve straight-up told her I didn’t want to pursue anything. She said I was partially to blame that she showed up at the gym and asked me out.” He lifts a shoulder. “I didn’t want to be an ass and make her feel bad. But it was like each time I saw her, I felt like I was trying way too hard to feel something. I tried explaining that to my sister, but she said that I should be more straightforward with my feelings, and that I have issues.”

  “Do you?”

  He laughs. “Maybe.”

  “My roommate says I seek out unattainable guys so I won’t get hurt.”

  His eyes meet mine. “Do you?”

  “Maybe.” I smile. “So what are your issues? I’m curious.”

  He squeezes the juice from the lime into his glass and plunks the rind into the water. “My sister’s probably right. I should learn to be more up-front. Here’s the thing.” He inches forward as though he’s sharing a secret, and I brace myself, hoping he’s not going to say something about a girl he loves who got away. “So I dated a girl in college—my one year of college—and she was really cool, but she started getting pretty needy, like wanting me to go everywhere with her. There was a night she asked me to go to the ATM for her, and I was in the middle of studying and didn’t want to go. She went and was mugged.”

  “Oh, man. Was she okay?”

  “He didn’t physically harm her, but she was shaken. She wouldn’t leave her apartment for two weeks after that. I stayed with her longer than I otherwise would’ve because I didn’t want to feel like an ass for leaving when she was down. I had to work through a lot of guilt. It’s why I volunteer to teach women self-defense. It’s also why I suck at letting people know how I feel.”

  The waitress arrives with our food, moving the basket of chips to the side to make room for our plates. Her appearance halts our conversation, but my heart soars. He made something good out of something bad, just like his story about the spider and the web.

  Once she leaves, Ryan lifts his water glass to mine. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers. Let’s try these funky banana tamales.”

  “I like how you
think.” He forks one onto my plate before sliding one onto his.

  I slather the red sauce across the top of mine and take a bite. My tongue starts to tingle, and my eyes go wide. I put a hand to my mouth and reach for my water, frantically gulping. “Hot. So freaking hot.”

  His eyes gleam with humor. “I didn’t realize I had such an effect on you.”

  I glare at him, and he smiles as he flags the waitress over and asks for a glass of milk. “Apparently the salsa is hot. And here I thought she was panting over me.”

  The server looks at me and smirks. “Men.” She reaches into the pocket of her flouncy white apron and sets a handful of sugar packets onto the table. “This is faster and works just as well. I should’ve warned you about that sauce. It’s marked with five peppers on the menu, but I don’t think people see it. Sorry about that.”

  Ryan laughs as he tears open a sugar packet and hands it to me. “I keep feeding you crap.”

  I dab a finger into the packet and lick the crystals from it. Sure enough, it begins to kill the stinging sensation on my tongue, though my heart hammers in my chest as Ryan’s flirty words play on repeat in my mind. “This was an emergency. It doesn’t count.”

  “Better?”

  “Yes, thanks.” I bite my lip, smiling to myself. “This reminds me of when I was a kid and my mom used to love going to restaurants with exotic food. She expected me to try new things. Of course, all I wanted was mac and cheese or plain noodles, right? My dad would keep a roll of Life Savers in his pocket and would sneak one to me when he saw I was struggling.”

  “Good man.”

  “Yeah. It’s funny. With my mom it was a battle, but he could get me to try anything by putting a spin on it. He called broccoli ‘moon trees’ and said hard-boiled eggs were ‘sun smugglers.’”

  He laughs. “Sun smugglers?”

  “The yolk was the sun.”

  “I’ve gotta remember that. I’ll use it with Syd. You were close to him?”