Can't Let Go

  Finding our usual spot on the rocks, the glowing orange sun is quickly fading from the sky, hiding behind the tree line. He organizes the food just like six years prior.

  “It always seems like I’m apologizing to you up here, but I brought you here because I am sorry. I should have never let the line blur between us.” I’m thankful he’s the one who begins talking.

  “Dex, I’m not sorry,” I say, and his head pops up.

  “What do you mean?”

  The sun dips lower, and I throw my head back to admire the sky, wondering if I’m about to make the worst mistake in my life. “I’ve wanted to erase that line between friendship and more for a long time. I don’t regret that at all.” I inhale a deep breath and a slow smile appears on his face before it vanishes too fast.

  “We can’t, Chrissy.” He violently shakes his head. “I’ll be your rock, your best friend, but it ends there. You’re way too important of a person.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” I grab a chicken nugget and hold it in my hand.

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s your relationship with Sam?” A loud and steady stream of air exhales from his lungs while his palms incase his head.

  “Friends … with some benefits mixed in,” he admits, and while the admission stings me, I’m elated he hasn’t given his heart away yet.

  “So, last night was part of the usual benefits?” I ask, not even positive I can handle the answer. From the corner of my eye, I see him glance up and release another breath of air. Here we go, I tell myself. It’s not like you thought he was a virgin.

  “No,” he answers and brings his knees up to rest his elbows on.

  “No?” I question again to double check I’m not hearing things.

  “No. We didn’t,” he further clarifies, and I struggle to not allow my lips to show how happy I am inside.

  “Why?”

  “Nothing, Chrissy. Can we please talk about something else?” He runs his hand through his hair.

  “Don’t you feel it?” I whisper.

  “It doesn’t matter.” He gazes out at the horizon.

  “Dex,” I sigh, but he shakes his head.

  “Just stop!” he yells.

  I slide closer to him, pushing the food to the side. Kneeling on the hard rock in front of him, I place my hands on either side of his cheeks, and he looks at me with scared and frightened eyes. “I want you, Dex. Why should we continue to deny our feelings for one another?”

  “Because, if it goes south, it’s over. We’ll have no relationship, instead of a friendship that drives to the core like we have now.”

  “That won’t work for me.” I sit back and cross my arms. Since the kind act didn’t work, I figure I’ll go for the pouty teenager one.

  “It has to. It’s the only option we have.” He continues his argument while leaning back on his hands.

  Climbing up on his lap, I allow either side of my legs to encase his waist, pressing my body against his. “Tell me you don’t want to kiss me right now.”

  He shifts his head away. “I don’t want to kiss you,” he says straight-faced.

  Inching forward, my lips only mere millimeters away. “Are you sure?” I ask, pushing my chest against him, enticing him. His chest rises and falls in rapid breaths.

  “Yes.” He gulps deeply, and I giggle at his attempt to be so disregarding to my advances.

  I move my mouth closer to his ear and whisper, “So, you’re telling me if I pressed my lips to yours right now, you wouldn’t reciprocate?”

  “That’s right. I’m telling you, Chrissy,” he argues, and sick of the back and forth bullshit, I place my hands on either side of his face and smash my lips to his.

  He keeps them tight for a few seconds, almost sucking his lips into his mouth. But the harder I press, the more his restraint diminishes. Without any indication he’s about to relent, I sit back and bite my lip. Our eyes focus on each other for a few seconds until he grabs my face, bringing it toward him, allowing our lips to collide. He positions me exactly where he wants me and claims my whole mouth with his. Inserting his tongue, I match the speed, darting so fast, it’s as if we’re unable to wait for one another. Pressing into him further, the desperate necessity to feel him, to affirm the excitement I may be evoking from him. He grabs my ass, squeezing and molding it with his hands.

  His hand travels up my spine. Shivers rising with every inch until his fingers splay in my hair and then he abruptly tears my face away from his. He stands up, and I fall hard onto the rock. My ass is sure to be bruised. Pacing, his hands fly through his short hair and back down. Shaking his head from side to side, never even acknowledging my presence.

  “Dex,” I sigh, exasperated with his ridiculous reasons we can’t be together.

  Stopping, he crouches down. “Chrissy, what would you do if we don’t make it? Because, in order to still have one another in our lives, we have to make it all the way. No half-way. It’s either we win the Super Bowl or never get drafted.”

  “Why are you worried about that?” I ask him, inching forward and placing my hand on his propped up knee.

  “I don’t want to live without you in my life anymore. I’ve missed you the past years and I need you as much as air or food. I could fuck it all up in a matter of minutes.”

  “Dex, stop worrying and enjoy this,” I coax, but he stands, shaking his head and continuing to pace back and forth.

  “No, Chrissy. It can’t happen.” His feet stop, and he glares down at me. “It won’t happen,” he insists, his harsh tone pulling me back.

  Crossing my legs, I place my head in my hands, shaking it back and forth. “I don’t understand, Dex. You just practically devoured me. You can’t deny the chemistry between us.” I’m a fool for ever believing he’d see me as someone for his future.

  Crouching down, he grabs my hands from my face. “Because, you have no one but me in your life. I’m your family, and, in order to always remain that, we can’t be involved—” My heart sinks into the deepest part of my stomach with the knowledge that he’s drawn that line with a permanent marker.

  “But.”

  “EVER, Chrissy,” he finishes, with finality to the topic and it is no longer up for discussion.

  “Why can’t you just love me? Stop worrying about saving me or protecting me! Just fucking love me, God damn it,” I scream, rising to my feet.

  “Why don’t you get it? I’m doing this because I love you.” His head lifts, soft eyes focusing on mine. “I’m giving up my own happiness for yours. Why don’t you understand that?” His shoulders fall, and he turns around staring out into the horizon.

  “No one asked you too, Dex. Stop thinking you know what’s best for me,” I whisper, but he never turns around.

  Knowing it’s the end of the discussion, I begin walking back to the truck. With families already packing up their cars as dusk falls, I stand by the truck, waiting for Dex. A few minutes go by, and I catch a glimpse of him weaving through kids crying and parents’ slumped shoulders, his hat pushed down over his eyes and his hands in his pockets.

  We don’t speak as he opens my door, continuing to be a gentleman. Silence carries over to the drive home, and when he pulls into the driveway, I’m thankful all the lights are turned off. He hasn’t fully stopped when I shuffle out of the truck, through the back door and up the stairs.

  Locking myself in the bathroom, I strip off my clothes and sit down in the shower. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I bury my head against my legs and cry for everything I’ll never have.

  A MONTH HAS passed since I climbed out of Dex’s truck, shattered and broken. The lingering doubt that I’m not good enough is confirmed in not just his words but his actions as well. He’s gone more than he’s here lately, and every time I do see him, he displays the forced smile or tries tossing a joke out to diffuse the tension. He’s yet to figure out that by pushing me away, our friendship has suffered a devastating blow and is already fading down to roommates that will gradually dwindle to
acquaintances.

  With Rob having fixed my car, at least I have transportation and am no longer indebted to anyone for rides. Sadie and Brady are more than welcoming, insisting I stay until I’ve saved enough. Brady jokes that Sadie would throw herself in front of the door, but, with their wedding coming up, I need to start considering finding a place of my own.

  When I walk into the gallery, Ryland is behind my desk, a conspicuous grin plastered on his face. “You caught me,” he says, standing up and walking along the side.

  “Caught you?” I tilt my head in confusion.

  “Listen, I have to go to Akron. Remember when I said I was considering opening another gallery?” I nod. “My realtor just called with an amazing deal on a space.” He has a realtor?

  “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.” I walk behind my desk, depositing my purse in the drawer and sliding forward, resting my elbows on my desk. Ryland stands there, leaning over, his dimples in pure sight. “What are you so happy about?” I ask, and he laughs.

  “Nothing. I guess I’m just excited for new possibilities,” he comments, with his back to me while withdrawing to his office.

  I boot up my computer and venture into the kitchen to start the coffee. But, I’m surprised to find it already brewing. “Ryland, you actually started the coffee maker?” I holler out the door, and he chuckles.

  “I am self-sufficient, you know?” he jokes, appearing in the doorway. Leaning against the counter, I place my palms on the edge, and Ryland’s eyes rake my body before coming back to my eyes. I’ve caught him staring at my ass when I’m bent over a few times, or when I lean forward, his eyes dart back from peeking down my blouse. It’s always been a compliment to me, made me feel confident in my looks. I enjoyed the glances here or there. That’s where it stayed, though, and I like it there. Tucked away in a box. I mean, I can’t say I don’t admire his looks from time to time too, but Dex is the one who fills my dreams. A sadness flickers inside of me with the realization that I must love Dex a lot more then he does me, because I’d never be able to push him away like he is me.

  This time, my breathing ups a few notches and my heart beats a tinge faster with his eyes on me. A churning excitement or anticipation of his next move brings the arrival of flutters in my stomach. “I’ll be back in a bit. Maybe pick us up some lunch.” The one corner of his lip turns up, and then he’s gone, and I’m stuck gripping the counter so hard my palm aches from the edge digging into my skin.

  “All right,” I choke out, before I bury my head in my hands. Shaking it back and forth, embarrassment at my actions overtakes my mind. Could you imagine the women he must go for … definitely not a broke twenty-something with no education or family.

  Waiting for the coffee to finish, I pull my mug from the sink rack and set it on the counter to be filled with the caffeine I’ve become addicted to in only months. A packet of Splenda and a spoon rests next to the pot. Did Ryland place that there for me? He probably was going to do it for himself, but then it dawns on me he takes his black. I smile at the sweet gesture.

  Sitting back at my desk, I move my mouse to get my screen to pop on. My usual serene beach scene isn’t there to greet me behind the few icons I have on my desktop. It’s a black screen with words in a white script font. My hand shakes, barely able to place my coffee down on my desk when I read them out loud, “Tonight, seven o’clock? ~Ryland.” My hand flies to my open mouth. Confusion that he is, in fact, asking me out rushes to the surface.

  I yank my drawer open, desperately digging for my phone. There’s only one person to talk to this about. When the rectangle piece of electronics is in my hands, the screen flashes and knowing her schedule by heart, she’s on her way to class. My fingers fly across the screen, hammering out a text all while praying she receives it before her class starts. The thought of waiting an excruciating hour would be atrocious.

  Me: Ryland just asked me out? What do I do?

  Tapping my fingers on the desk while my foot fidgets back and forth, the seconds seem like years before the swoosh of sound bings from my phone.

  Sadie: I knew he had a thing for you. The first time he saw you, I sensed this tension.

  Me: What do I do?

  I type faster, my heartbeat panicked with the expectations of a date.

  Sadie: Go.

  Me: I can’t. He’s my boss.

  Sadie: Is that the real reason you don’t want to go?

  Pausing, I contemplate why this has brought such alarming emotions from me. I begin to calm as I try to weave my way through them.

  Me: Probably not

  I answer honestly because Sadie has been my shoulder for the array of emotions Dex pulls out of me.

  Sadie: You can’t wait around for him to come around, Chrissy.

  I can almost hear her sorrowful voice through the text. That Dex won’t be coming around for me anytime soon. That I need to move forward.

  Me: I’m not…it’s just…I don’t know.

  Sadie: Go out and have fun. Who knows what will happen. Maybe it won’t even be anything.

  Me: True

  Sadie: Hey, Dex wants you to find happiness. You have to put yourself out there in order to get it.

  Her words are true, but the thought of Ryland picking me up at the house and the off chance Dex could be there is enough for me to run to the bathroom.

  Me: Maybe I’ll tell him I’ll meet him at the restaurant.

  Sadie: NO. Absolutely NOT! He picks you up at the house. We’ll raid my closet when you get home.

  Me: I haven’t decided yet…LOL

  Sadie: Yes you have. Class is starting, I’ll call you once I get out.

  Me: Okay.

  I put my phone on the desk and stare at the screen a few more minutes, but it’s Dex’s face occupying my vision. Not wanting to hurt him, but also comprehending I have to move on. It’s been thirty days, and if anything, we’re further apart than before. Just as I’m already coming to my answer, my email dings and a smile confirms my answer.

  To: Christine Dawson

  From: Ryland Davis

  Subject: Nervous

  If you’re the assistant I think you are, I’m fairly certain you’ve seen my question. So, will you be my date for dinner tonight?

  My hand palms the mouse, my right pointer finger on the clicker. Moving it over, I click reply.

  To: Ryland Davis

  From: Christine Dawson

  RE: Nervous

  Yes

  I keep it simple, because I don’t have it in me to be funny with my reply. How can my acceptance to his date bring excitement and gut-wrenching pain all in one? I can’t help but feel guilty that I’m using Ryland to forget Dex. What if something comes of me and Ryland, how would I ever tell Dex? Lucky for me, my computer dings immediately so I can stop overanalyzing my decision.

  To: Christine Dawson

  From: Ryland Davis

  RE: RE: Nervous

  Huge smile across my face. Casual attire…jeans and a t-shirt.

  Reading that he’s smiling, I envision those dimples piercing the heart of every other woman around him at the moment. The fact that they’re displayed because of me has my insides tingling with the excitement.

  SIX FORTY-FIVE, and I’m upstairs in Sadie’s bathroom. A hot chunk of my blonde hair falls out of the curling iron alongside my heavily made up face. I’ve never worn this many layers of make-up, and I keep wondering if I took my nail and dug it down my cheek, would a white line of my skin appear?

  “Why jeans and t-shirt? I wanted to have you borrow something of mine. You’d think Ryland Davis would take you to a five-star restaurant.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, because that low self-esteem surfaces and has me thinking he’d be embarrassed to waste such money on me. Or worse, that I’m not worth spending money on with an elaborate meal.

  “I’m sure he has a great date planned though,” she assures me, as if she witnessed my lips turn down with the thought.

  “Sadie, I don’t think I can …”
I pull my legs up to my chest, my usual defense mechanism to keep others out.

  She places the curling iron on the counter and crouches down in front of me, her hand resting on my linked ones. “Listen to me, Chrissy. You can and you will go on this date. Do it for yourself.”

  I peek up at her, and her sincerity is palpable. I want to believe her. Believe that someone would want me, but what happens when the one you are certain should be yours, doesn’t feel the same?

  “You have to let Dex go. If he can’t see what’s in front of him, or he’s too scared, there’s nothing you can do to change it. Go out with Ryland for no one else but yourself,” she continues and then pats my arm until she pries a smile out of me.

  “All right,” I say, and she smiles back at me.

  “Good. Now, beautiful, you’re ready for your date.” She unplugs the curling iron and leans her hip on the counter, staring over at me. Waiting for me to see the magic she did on such a plain Jane.

  “Oh, Sadie. I want to screw myself,” I joke, and she cracks up.

  “Glad you like it. But it’s easy to make beautiful, more beautiful.” Her hand touches my arm, and she leaves the room.

  I stare at myself in the mirror, knowing I’m somewhere under the lines and layers of paint. Touching my curls, I admire the look that took an hour to accomplish. My usual is getting out of the shower and tossing my wet hair in a ponytail. On a good day, I do a half blow-dry and a quick touch of eyeliner and mascara and I’m out the door.

  Sadie and I stomp downstairs as Dex is just coming out of his room. We both stop, and Sadie ping pongs between the two of us before resorting to the next set of stairs.

  All of these wishes that I did this for him swim around in my head. Why won’t he admit to what we both know? “Hi,” I speak first, and he stands there staring at me with his backpack swung around his back.