The Left Side of Perfect

by Meghan Quinn

  And I meant every word of it.

  When Ryan first opened her door the day she was sick, I was stunned speechless. With a crusty nose and red cheeks, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her more beautiful. Her face was fresh and clean, not covered or hiding anything. It was like I was seeing her for the first time, and I was instantly enamored with my best friend. She’s gorgeous.

  Hell, I always thought she was hot, but her natural beauty, shit, it’s a rare type of beauty. And it made me feel guilty for a second, thinking of Ryan as that beautiful, but I knew, even though my eyes were caught off guard, my heart still belonged to another person.

  And once I saw Ryan’s reaction, I knew that not only was I there to make sure she was doing okay—being single and sick sucks—but I was there to make sure she understood her worth.

  From the look of it today, I did my job. But I’m hoping today speaks more than any words I could ever use with her. I hope today provides a permanent reminder that she is absolutely incredible just as she already is.

  “Are you ready?” the tattoo artist asks as he applies the stencil to her left wrist.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Keep your eyes on me. No peeking.”

  “I know, I know.” She rolls her eyes and then speaks to the tattoo artist, her head tilted back. “If that stencil is a penis, please, for the love of God, change it to something else.”

  “It’s not a penis,” I answer exasperated.

  For the next half hour, Ryan and I play catch-up for the past two weeks. She tells me about some douche Leah keeps trying to set her up with, and I remind Ryan that she’s better than that and to look for the right man, not the wrong one.

  I tell her about work, our latest missions and my TDY that’s coming up. I was put on temporary deployment with Bent to Colorado Springs where we will be joining pilots from Luke to go over aerial maneuver exercises. Occasionally, we have these TDYs, and our one mission is to perfect our trade in a different environment and with other pilots, making us more adaptable outside of our normal four-plane formation.

  Stryder and Rory are excited to hang out, and I can’t lie, I’m excited about seeing them as well.

  “Just about done,” the tattoo artist says as Ryan winces once again.

  “I still can’t believe you convinced me to do this, and that you’re waiting to get yours. How is that fair?”

  I shrug. “It isn’t, but hey, you were the one who lost the bet.”

  She points her finger at me, narrowing her eyes. “But we’re still getting ice cream after this like you promised?”

  “Yes, we’re getting ice cream.”

  “That’s all that matters.”

  The buzzing of the tattoo gun ceases as the artist says, “All right, all done. Do you want to see it?”

  “Yes.” Ryan goes to look at it when I move my body, blocking her view.

  I turn toward the tattoo artist and say, “Can you give us a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  Taking off, he gives Ryan and me some privacy, at least what we can get in this busy tattoo parlor.

  “Before you look at your tattoo, I want to remind you of a conversation we had a while back.”

  “Okay,” she drags out skeptically.

  “You once told me there are two sides of perfect. The left and the right. The right side being the side society deems perfect, the side you’ve committed your life to achieving.” She nods, her eyes starting to well with tears. “And then there is the left side, your favorite side, the side that accepts your flaws and shortcomings, the most beautiful side of perfect. The side you wish you could live on.” She nods again, a tear falling down her cheek. I wipe it away, leaving my hand cupping her to catch any other stray tears. “Well, this tattoo is a commitment, a reminder that no matter what goes on in that pretty little head of yours, you should always live on the left side.”

  I bring her wrist into view and allow her eyes to focus on the pretty cursive I picked out for her tattoo, the writing simply stating: left side.

  “Never forget where you belong, Ryan.”

  Her other hand goes to her mouth as more tears fall from her eyes, understanding of the symbol on her body hitting her immediately, and before I can say anything else, she flings her body into mine and wraps her arms around my waist, holding me tightly.

  Letting out a pent-up sigh, I bring her in even closer and rest my chin on the top of her head, relieved that she likes it.

  That she gets it.

  When she pulls away, she says, “Thank you, Colby. This means everything to me.”

  I squeeze her hand. “It means a lot to me too, Ryan.”

  * * *

  Sitting on a half brick wall, ice cream cones in hand, feet dangling, we stare at the sand-covered mountains, a comfortable silence between us.

  We became a bit of a sideshow at the tattoo parlor with Ryan crying and me holding her until she stopped. We actually had to move to the side so someone else could occupy the chair, but once she was good, she apologized—not necessary—and the tattoo artist went through aftercare.

  Once in the car on our way to get ice cream, Ryan thanked me again, her eyes trained on me the entire time. It felt good to do something for her that was so meaningful, that will hopefully make a good impact on her life. She means a lot to me, and even though Stryder and Bent have been my boys for the past eight years, somehow Ryan has slipped herself into the best friend position. Besides Sage, she’s the first person I text when something happens, the first person I go to when I want to hang out, and the first person I rely on when I want advice about my relationship.

  And she’s the first person I want to tell this to.

  “How’s your ice cream?”

  “So good.” She leans to the side, her hand propped up on the brick, her hair blowing in the wind. “Sprinkles was a clutch decision.”

  “You realize this is what kids get when they get a shot from the doctor.”

  “Well aware.” She winks. “Technically I got a shot, an adult one. There were needles involved.”

  I chuckle. “Do I get ice cream once I get mine?”

  “Will you need ice cream once you get yours?”

  I take a long lick of my cone and nod. “Yeah. I’m going to need ice cream.”

  Humor curves her lips as she studies me. “You know, I was thinking, do you think people are going to think I’m stupid?”

  “Stupid for what?”

  She holds up her wrist. “I have left side tattooed on my left wrist. Do you think they’ll assume I can’t tell my left from my right?”

  “Doesn’t matter. You know what it means. People can assume anything they want, but don’t let it devalue the meaning on your skin. You know what it stands for, so live by it.”

  Her lips curve again, as she looks down and shakes her head. “Never in my life did I think Colby Brooks would be such a poetic motherfucker, but here you are, digging yourself into my heart one word at a time.”

  “Better be.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “That’s what best friends are for, right?” I nudge her leg with mine.

  “Yeah,” she sighs, “that’s what they’re for.”

  “Which reminds me, I have something to tell you.”

  “Oh yeah? Have you told anyone else?”

  “Not a single soul.”

  She straightens up and turns to face me on the wall. “Okay, so this is serious.” She takes a lick of her ice cream. “What’s going on?”

  Lowering my cone, I scrub the back of my neck, feeling nervous as shit for some reason, but this is Ryan, I can tell her anything. Hell, I told her about how I prematurely came the other night, embarrassing the ever-living fuck out of myself. I can tell her this.

  “I’m uh”—a smile crosses my face. Fuck it—“I’m going to ask Sage to marry me.”

  Cars pass by in the distance as Ryan sits on the wall next to me, blankly staring, her eyes blinking every few seconds, before she shakes her head and clears her throat. “Uh, what?”


  “I’m going to propose to Sage. She’s the one, Ryan. She’s the one.” I pause, letting that sink in. “I really want to make it special, so that’s why I’m telling you. I have the ring. I just need the idea. I have a few but I don’t know if they’re lame or not.”

  “Wow, I . . . uh, I didn’t know you were that serious.”

  “We are. She gets me, she understands the lifestyle, and she makes me happy.”

  Ryan swallows hard and nods. “That’s . . . I mean, that’s important. Wow.” She rests the hand holding her cone on her leg and sits back, stunned. “I’m a little shocked.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I mean, it’s great,” she replies, pressing her hand to my leg. “It’s really great.” Her eyes start to water. “I’m sorry.” She waves her hand in front of her face. “I’m really happy for you.”

  “Ryan, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry. This is great news. You caught me off guard that’s all. I’m really happy for you.”

  “Yeah?”

  She grips my hand and squeezes it, a nod to her head. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, good, because you being on board with this means a lot to me.”

  She takes in a deep breath and then lets it out. When she looks at me, her eyes shine and her lips curve up at the ends, but it’s not a smile that reaches her eyes. There is a sense of sadness behind it. I know she’s expressed wanting to find someone, someone who is going to treat her well. I never thought this might make her feel bad.

  “I’m on board.”

  Thinking about how this might affect her, I consider doing this myself. I mean, I have some pretty solid ideas, so this shouldn’t be a big deal. I just don’t want to set Ryan back. She’s made so much progress in not going out with the wrong guy, in focusing on herself. Will this hit her too hard?

  “You know, you have a lot going on, I shouldn’t—”

  She squeezes my hand again and reassures me. “I’m on board, Colby. Let’s get you engaged.”

  Feeling a shit ton of emotions, I pull her into my embrace and kiss the top of her head, so grateful for this woman in my life. “That means a lot, Ryan. A whole fucking lot.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  RYAN

  I feel dead inside.

  Like the world is spinning around me in hyper speed, but I’m going at slow motion. Walking is an effort, breathing I have to think about, and food, I don’t know what that is anymore.

  A few weeks ago, I realized I was in love with my best friend. There was no denying it, no stopping it. The realization hit me like a Mack truck going eighty on a highway.

  Bam.

  I love Colby.

  It hit me so hard that it took me a few days to catch my breath, to recover. I didn’t know what to do with the information. I didn’t know how to act around him, or what to say in text messages. I felt like anything I said or did, he would figure it out, that if he lifted the thin veil I was trying to use to cover my emotions, he would see it plain as day.

  Ryan is in love with Colby.

  But he didn’t.

  Even after getting a tattoo, he didn’t see the look of love in my eyes, the outpouring of adoration like a tidal wave the moment he revealed my tattoo, the meaning behind it, the confidence he has in me. How can someone be so good, so kind, so thoughtful, and truly not love me back? Why again, am I second place?

  All I wanted to do in that moment was bury myself in his arms, tilt my head up ever so slightly, cup his cheeks with my hands, and kiss him relentlessly. I wanted to show him how much of an impact he’s made in my life and how much I truly love him.

  I never got the chance.

  I never will.

  Not when he’s dating Sage.

  Beautiful, stunningly amazing, sweet Sage.

  I can’t even be mad about them being together, because they really are the perfect match. She’s strong and confident, the type of girl he needs in his line of work. And I’ve tried to hate her. I’ve forced myself to sneer whenever I see her, but it’s impossible. Freaking impossible. She so easily captures you with her endearing attitude and the cute way she adjusts her glasses. I get it. I get why Colby loves her.

  I’m mad that I didn’t do anything before he met her, that I didn’t try to start something up with him.

  But then again, after the wedding, I had no idea the kind of bond we’d have. The kind of bond that would ignite my soul and make me feel so damn alive that I didn’t think it was possible to love anyone but him.

  And yet, here I am, a champagne bottle with cups in my backpack, a camera ready and poised, and hiking behind Colby and Sage, who are cutely holding hands, as we make our way through the beautiful Red Rock Canyon.

  It’s all a ruse. Sage has no idea. I “invited” them on a hike with a little picnic of cheese, crackers, and fruit. We jokingly called it a threesome that I laughed at, even though the smile never touched my soul.

  I haven’t talked to anyone about my feelings. What would I really say at this point? That I’m in love with my best friend and he’s about to propose to his girlfriend, what should I do?

  Tell him it’s a mistake.

  Make a distraction.

  Roll my ankle.

  Do anything to stop this from happening, and when I’m alone with him, tell him.

  Tell him I love him more than anything and want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life showing him how special he is to me. How perfectly we fit.

  With every forward step I take, it feels like I’m walking the plank, waiting for that moment when Colby drops to his knee, pulls out the ring—the gorgeous, blinding ring—and asks Sage to be his wife.

  With every step forward, I consider what I should do, if I should stop him. If I should pull him to the side and talk to him, tell him: maybe you need to think about this a little longer.

  Maybe you don’t propose.

  Maybe you choose me.

  Maybe you give us a chance.

  The decision to stop him is so heavy in my heart that I begin to gather the courage to do it, to talk to him.

  Just a few more steps up.

  I can do this. He needs to know all the facts before making this decision. It’s only fair.

  I take a few seconds to catch my breath, to realize the enormity of what I’m about to do, psyching myself up to possibly destroy Colby’s plans when I look up to find Colby and Sage, hands linked, the Las Vegas skyline behind them, looking so in love.

  And as he takes a knee in front of her, my heart sinks to the ground just as Sage’s hands fly to her mouth, complete shock falling over her perfect features.

  I watch in slow motion—and somehow remember to take pictures—as Colby talks about his love for Sage, how she’s changed his life, how he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her by his side.

  He wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with Sage by his side.

  Nothing. More. Than. Sage.

  I’m a complete and utter mess on the inside.

  Sage reacts with tears, happy tears, nodding, a faint yes passing her lips before he slips the ring on her finger. I continue to take pictures, my brain on autopilot, as the world around me starts to fade, the vibrant colors of the rock and landscape turning into a muted brown.

  Silence rings through my ears. The only thing I can hear is the cracking of my own heart as I watch Colby pick Sage up and spin her around, her happy cries vaguely pushing past the silence in my head.

  She cups his face and brings her lips to his, and they passionately kiss, their mouths molded, made for one another, their connection true.

  And as their figures start to fade, my ability to focus drowning in my sorrow, I feel an overwhelming sense of doom spread over my body. Despite all the lovely words, despite trying to face the world rather than hide behind the façade of makeup, despite the sentiment behind the tattoo, despite the many hours I’ve spent with my best friend, I’m not the one he l
oves. Not the one who is enough.

  You’re never going to be enough.

  His type isn’t you.

  You’re no one’s type.

  My soul blackens, dying in this very moment.

  The man I’m in love with is getting married, and it’s not to me.

  To be continued . . .

  Thank you for reading The Left Side of Perfect! I hope you enjoyed it! This story continues with THE RIGHT SIDE OF FOREVER, click HERE to keep reading!

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