All the Wild Ways: A Friends to Lovers Romance

by Caroline Tate

  “I said did you fuck him?”

  Kate, appearing out of nowhere, sheepishly avoids eye contact with me. “Leave her alone, Moira."

  Moira scowls at Kate now, clearly overprotective of her.

  "It’s alright,” Kate says. “Will you give us a minute?”

  “Whatever.” Moira shakes her head and saunters off.

  “So,” Kate says, watching me down the whiskey. She picks up a few potato chips and studies them in her palm. “Where’s Garrett?”

  “Not now.”

  "No, I mean. I saw you both leave during the video. Uh, yeah. Sorry about that." She fakes a sad expression. "But where is he?"

  "I don't want to talk about it," I tell her, my voice growing angry.

  Kate scoffs. “He really did change you, you know.” She shovels the chips into her mouth and dusts the crumbs off her palms with a smirk. "You used to be so open with me, but now you're just closed off. You're just like him."

  She’s wrong. But I don’t feel like wasting energy fighting about it tonight knowing I still have to live with her. “He’s gone.”

  “Obviously. And I can tell you’ve been crying. So where’d he go?”

  Her sudden interest in Garrett’s whereabouts are not unlike her usual pining for him, but I don’t feel like listening to it tonight. “I don’t know, Kate. He left. He’s gone, it’s over. He’s not. coming. back. You happy now? He’s all yours if you want him. So just let the whole thing go, okay?” I throw back the rest of my whiskey with a dark grimace. “He can go fuck himself for all I care.”

  “Whoa. What'd he do to you?” Kate mutters. “I mean, we always knew he was an asshole.”

  Not any more than you were, I want to tell her.

  Instead, I shrug and refill my drink, the hot spices smacking me in the face when I bring the cup back up to my lips. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” I say into the cup just before the liquor hits my lips.

  I hear her sigh beside me as she softens. “Got it. Nothing a little whiskey won’t fix, I guess. Oh, and this,” Kate says more animated, lingering on the words. She takes me by the shoulders and turns me clear around, pointing beyond my shoulder. “Remember Nathan from high school?” She shoves me in his direction the moment he looks over at me from his group of buddies. “He’s been eyeing you most of the night you’ve been around.”

  Nate had been on the quiet side since he was a kid, and though I’d known who he was, I hadn’t entirely been friends with him. He was a year older than me and played the bass guitar in Jazz Band. Not quite a nerd, but close enough to one that associating with him would've converted any girl by the transitive property. It wasn’t that I hated him, I just never imagined we had anything in common except sharing the same Trigonometry class. But even back then, I'd think about him during class. I always wondered why he wore his pants so tight and admired his plain New Balance shoes because they made him look like a hipster. He’d always intrigued me.

  As I trace the living room floor on autopilot and alcohol, he smiles a toothy grin. With the whiskey nursing my injured ego, I walk right up to him not giving a shit.

  “Hey there,” I say over the booming stereo. I push my hair to one side of my neck, the room a few degrees hotter than it'd been earlier. “How’ve you been?”

  He nods at me. “You know, pretty good.” His brown eyes and dark hair remind me nothing of Garrett, and that is perfectly fine with me. “You know who I am?” he asks with a cock of his thick eyebrows.

  Rolling my eyes, I laugh. “Sure I do. You wanna hear a joke?” I ask him, now feeling the heat of the whiskey through the rise and fall of my chest.

  "Honestly? Not really." He laughs. “But I wouldn't turn one down coming from you.”

  “Oh, okay.” I bite on the edge of my plastic cup trying to read him. “What’s the inverse function of Sine?”

  He scrubs a hand over his jaws, his eyebrows pulling down. “I’m not sure?”

  “I don't know, either. I was just hoping one of us had learned something in Trig. Apparently, we didn’t.”

  Laughing, he takes a drink from his cup and smirks at me. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can get the words out, I slip a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him to my mouth, and kiss him. I hear a few of his friends murmur something. Two of them egg us on by yelling some dumb chant, and within seconds, he’s kissing me back like he means it.

  I’d always imagined doing that in class, kissing him just to see what his lips taste like. Tonight, they taste like hops and vanilla icing. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t taste the clove of Garrett’s chew on him. Not even a trace of it.

  Nate is just the kind of distraction I need tonight. My mind flows back to Garrett only once, the night we'd spent on his couch after Franklin punched the shit out of him. The night we’d fallen asleep just sitting there wrapped in each other’s arms with a frozen bag of peas pressed to his face. And how, tonight, Garrett made it crystal clear that he doesn’t want me around him in any type of way anymore, that I’m too much of a reminder of all the awful things from his past. But as soon as I let myself think it, I’m back in the sugary kiss with Nathan, the repulsive scent of sweat wafting by us making me feel nauseous.

  When Nate pulls away from me, he ducks his head down to my ear. “You want to go upstairs?”

  And though I don’t tell him this, all I want to do tonight is keep my mind off of the only guy I’ve ever loved to a fault— Garrett Anderson.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Crossing Howe street, I sit on the wooden bench in the shade of Franklin Square Park. The park is relatively empty aside from a few obvious tourists. I'd grabbed a turkey sandwich and a bottle of water from the Dream Bean for my lunch break. My morning appointments had been slow and nearly unbearable with the weight of all of my thoughts, so I promised myself a calming, stress-free lunch in the park.

  It’s early September now, one of the most grueling months down South. Almost eight weeks have passed since Kate threw the party to honor Lydia. Unfortunately, for all the drama that night held, the disaster of the whole affair overshadowed Lydia's memory. I had, at least, patched up my relationship with Kate one afternoon at the apartment. It hadn’t been all that difficult to come to amends once I spilled the entirety of my tale with Garrett, but I think she mostly took pity on me. In the end, she empathized with me and started having the same resentful feelings toward him.

  The first two weeks after Garrett left me, I couldn't help the anger that harbored in my heart. It seemed like I cried maddening tears for three days straight. He never texted me or called. Not once did he come to my apartment to try to see me. And I think that’s what hurt most of all— that after he’d had time to really reflect on what he’d done, he still wanted nothing to do with me.

  I thought about reaching out to him a few times, but in the end decided against it. Once I got an outside perspective and saw how angry the whole situation was making Kate, my hateful feelings started to subside and morphed into those of pure sadness. Losing Garrett that night had become another season of grief in my life. The torture of experiencing such a pure connection only to have it burn out into nothing, I convinced myself, is one of the greatest tragedies of living.

  I hadn't been entirely alone though. The night of the party, I’d taken Nathan up to my childhood bedroom at the lakehouse to show him around, but I ended up falling into bed with him. I’m not sure why, maybe out of spite for what Garrett had done, the way he left me down there by the lake. Or maybe it was the sinking feeling of not being enough for him. Either way, Nathan ended up fucking me just before dawn. I can’t say I appreciated it or even remembered many of the details. But what Nate and I shared was so far removed from the degree of passion I’d felt with Garrett for years that it was almost laughable. A single look from Garrett could set my soul afire while spending one night with Nate left me feeling like I'd just emptied my heart on the stale carpet of my bedroom floor. No feelings, nothing but indifference. And trust me.
The irony of seeking consolation in another man only to find that you two don't share a single thread of chemistry is not lost on me.

  Though I didn't feel anything for him, Nathan had made a habit out of texting me daily, talking to me like there was some spark still dancing between us. He kept asking to see me. It was hard for me to tell him the truth, to admit that that’s all it had been for me— trying like hell to replace something I’d so desperately craved that night in Garrett. But once I did, he eventually left me alone, and I grew content in the fact that if I couldn't have the guy I sincerely connected with in life, I would be fine on my own.

  Even now though, I think about Garrett a lot. At least a few times a day. Usually during the evenings. Finding a beautiful, heartwrenching sunset just before dark, eating pepperoni pizza down on the waterfront, passing the tobacco shop downtown that seeps a beautiful shade of clove late into the afternoons. And I wonder if he’s feeling the same blanket of loneliness I am, living his days closed off and unhappy. Alone and secluded.

  Or maybe he's not alone at all. Maybe he's back to his casual, alleycat ways. It's a known fact that Franklin had called him out on the night of my dad's celebratory dinner. The fact that he has no trouble getting a lay whenever he wants. But whoever he’s out there sleeping with, she’ll be hard-pressed to care for him as much as I do.

  As much as I did.

  As I toss my sandwich wrapper in the trash can by the curb, I hop back into the van for a long afternoon of appointments. Opening the appointment book, I scan down through the 1:20, 2:30, and 3:40 string of appointments figuring out if my afternoon will be in Southport or Oak Island. As I drop my eyes down to the 4:50 appointment, I notice it’s for a Dudley dog.

  Dudley.

  My heart pounds against my ribcage as I trace the name with a nervous finger. And as I follow the line over to the next column, I find Garrett’s name and address scrawled in red ink causing me to shiver.

  That asshole.

  I want to rip the page out and toss it from the window. Garrett didn’t want a dog. I’d tried for years to convince him, but to no avail. I mean, no way does Garrett have a dog. Not possible. He probably just wants me to face him at his own fucking house. Or maybe he’s craving a late-afternoon fuck. “Nicely played, asshole,” I say under my breath.

  I drop the appointment book and pull out of the parking spot to head for the first of my appointments.

  Mable, Polly, and Rufus all take a lot out of me. Despite the company of the pups, the entire afternoon has me steaming mad at the size of Garrett’s balls to pull a stunt like this. In my mind, I walk through his front door and give him a piece of my dangerous, enraged mind. Over and over again, I line up the exact words I'm going to say to him when he opens that door. "Fuck you and everything you ever meant to me," I'll tell him.

  My anxiety on the drive from The Semore’s on Oak Island over to Garrett’s house is unmanageable. Stop-and-start traffic due to rush hour on a Friday afternoon has my palms fiercely sweating. When I pull the van into his driveway, it’s 4:47 on the stereo clock, and I feel sick to my stomach.

  Making my way to the front door, I expect something to be different about it this time around. The color of the cement pathway, the parched grass of his lawn, the cocky tone of voice he’ll use with me when he opens that door. But I guess the only difference is how I feel toward him— the absence of wildfire burning through me. The only fire I feel for him now is anger toward the fact that he’s making me show up at his house like this so he can make a fool out of me. With a deep, steadying breath, I ring his doorbell, and to my complete shock, I hear a familiar sound.

  Beyond the front door is the excited patter of paws and a muted mewling. The sound then dampens and is replaced with a murmur of Garrett’s voice. My heart pumps quicker as I strain to hear what he’s saying, who he’s talking to, but I can’t make out a single word.

  Jealousy rushes through me as I imagine him in there talking to some other woman, and for a split second, I consider turning and leaving before he even knows I'm there. Before I can bolt, the door swings open, and the only person I see is Garrett, his tired eyes aglow with a strand of sorrow. As much as the green of his eyes draws me in, I can't help but shift my attention down to the wiggling, wrinkled English Bulldog in the thick of Garrett's arms. Immediately, my heart melts at the puppy’s whimpering excitement as he tries to wag his way free of Garrett’s secure grasp.

  “That’s…”

  “Dudley,” Garrett finishes as he holds the adorable brown and white puppy out to me.

  He looks nothing like our fox-friend, but in my mind, it works. All my anger rushing out of me, I can’t help but show my surprise. “Garrett, he’s perfect,” I say, taking Dudley into my arms. “Hey there, buddy,” I sing in a quiet voice. The pup is heavy but seems to settle down into my scent in the crook of my neck, his wet snout leaving damp kisses on me. And for the first time since the night at Lake Carson, I smile genuinely at Garrett.

  “I remember you saying dogs are a lot of work.” He scratches the back of his neck. “But I didn’t understand to what extent.”

  “Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “Try grooming them.”

  He lowers his head. “Actually, I think I’ll leave that one up to you. Since you’re the professional and everything.”

  “Right,” I snort, stepping back from the door, my breath suddenly quickening. That's my cue to get back to my job. That's why I'm here, after all. “It shouldn’t take me too long. We’ll get Dudley all fixed up for you, won't we, boy?”

  “No,” Garrett says, putting his hand up, and for a split-second, I feel like he might be telling me to stay. “No rush.”

  My heart drops, and Dudley’s ample build squirms in my arms as we walk away and enter the van. I set him down on the brushing station and take to combing out his short coat, over and under all of his charming folds. His stub of a tail wags an ecstatic beat causing his entire body to shake. From the red dirt that settles onto the table beneath him, I can tell he’s had a few too many romps in Garrett’s backyard.

  “Does that feel good, huh?”

  As if he understands me, his whole body wags as I continue to rake the dirt from under his round belly.

  “Is Garrett being good to you?” Dudley licks my hand, his body still wiggling at the comb. “I take that as a yes,” I laugh.

  Dudley couldn’t be more lovable. And strangely, no matter how things had ended between Garrett and me, I’m thrilled for him. It eases my worry to know he’s not entirely alone in life anymore. He needs someone by his side, someone to help him carry his load of grief, even if it is just a dog. The companionship will do wonders for him, I'm sure of it.

  Before I plop Dudley down into the washing station, I pause by the van window and look at Garrett’s house. I wonder what he’s doing in there, curious if he’s thinking about me or wondering how I’m doing. Had he known I’d be the one to take care of Dudley’s appointment today? He must not have realized I’d be the one to show up because he’d made it clear he didn’t want to see me again. My heart stammers at how harshly he’d turned me down once and for all that night by the lake, the hurtful words he'd spewed to me. Lydia would’ve hated him for it. The thought chokes me up as I start filling the wash bin with warm water at Dudley’s paws.

  “How do you feel about water, bub?” I ask, stroking his neck. At the first rainfall of water on him, he wags his entire backside causing me to giggle at his silliness.

  Within half an hour, I have him washed of all red clay, his coat completely dried, and nails trimmed. He smells fresh like tea tree and eucalyptus. Clean and calm.

  “You ready, buddy?” I ask, hoisting him up into my arms. He squirms until he finds the comfort of my collarbone, licking my cheek. This puppy is so sweet that it breaks my heart knowing I may not see him again.

  Back at Garrett’s front door, I whisper to Dudley. “You tell your dad to let me come visit you sometime, alright?” I say, emotion rising in the back of my throat.<
br />
  Within a few seconds of hearing me knock, Garrett opens the door, and in a sharp inhale, my breath catches. There standing in front of me, he holds the biggest bouquet of purple and blue wildflowers I’ve ever seen. The blue and purple blooms plume outward in a stunning display made even more beautiful by the plain white, hand-tied ribbon that wraps them all together. Blooms of aster, sprigs of lavender, lupine poking through the purples, even some violet, and the whole bouquet dotted with baby's breath.

  The color of your eyes always reminded me of wildflowers, he’d said to me, and in this moment, I can't stop my lower lip from trembling as he stands in front of me. I feel near to tears, and for the first time in my life, I think they might be tears of relief.

  “I’ve been an idiot, Rachel. And I am so incredibly sorry for the things I said to you at the lake. And before you say anything, just hear me out.”

  I don’t dare speak for fear of my forlorn emotion swelling up like a wave about to break. Instead, I focus on keeping a tight hold of Dudley who has settled down into my arms.

  “You were right, Rach. All along." He rubs a hand over his cheek. "You were right that I’ve been selfish and closed off for years. It was beyond stupid of me to go after the brewery the way I did, especially after turning it down for so long. I love what I do. I love that I get to wake up and spend my time outside on the greens. It's my happy place. And when I told your dad I wanted to take over the brewery, I did that for you, not for myself. I wanted you to be proud of me for somethin’.”

  It's not that I hadn't heard him the night he told me that the first time. But the drawl of his timid words and his blunt admission shell-shocks me. Taking a deep breath, I lean my head against the door jamb, Dudley still tucked under my arm.

  “I’m not done. I’ve…” Garrett pauses and swallows hard. His breaths lengthen as he seems to gather his thoughts. “I closed myself off from people after Lydia died. Always angry, always hard, always sarcastic to compensate for the pain of everything I’ve been feeling. I never even stopped to think how pissed she’d be if she knew me now.”