Cruise

by Laramie Briscoe

  “Not usually, but you’ve seemed down the past few weeks. I’m worried about you, kid.”

  At twenty-seven, I’m not a kid anymore, but everyone still thinks of me as the small boy who toted around an inhaler like a backpack. Still, I can’t be rude, not to the two people who’ve always supported me.

  “Just got a lot of shit on my mind.”

  Cash leans forward on his biceps, letting the table take his weight. “Hey man, you know you can always talk to me, no matter how old you get. I’m always going to be here for you. Nothing changes that, you know?”

  “I know, and I appreciate it, but it’s shit I don’t wanna talk about, to be honest.”

  “Shit having to do with a certain employee of mine who just told me to shut the fuck up when I asked if she was ever going to speak to you again?”

  “Why the fuck did she do that?” I flick a piece of paper off the table. “I swear to God she does stuff just to piss me off.”

  “No, she does stuff to get a rise out of you,” Harper argues.

  “What does it even matter when she won’t speak to me? I can be yelling in her face, and she won’t speak to me, doesn’t even act like I’m looking at her.”

  I hold my hands palms up in a what the fuck gesture before I put them back on the table. “I’m at a loss.”

  Harper turns her chair so that she’s looking at me head-on. “Have you ever wondered if she doesn’t talk to you because you’re so loud about it? Loud isn’t the Remy any of us know. You’ve never been that type of guy, but I get it. You’re frustrated. You want things to go back to the way they were. She’s always been one of your best friends. But what happens if you go about it in a way that’s not a show? Send her a note? Make a small gesture, one that she’ll know is from you.”

  “I tried texting her.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Harper moans, rolling her eyes. “Texting is so impersonal. Write her a damn note. Use a pen and a piece of motherfucking notebook paper, and let her see you took a minute out of your day to do it. Women want to know you can make time for them, that in the middle of the craziness of everything you’ve got going on, you’re thinking about them. Which is why your brother is here today and almost got lucky in the back.”

  “Cockblocker.” Cash coughs into his hand. I shoot him a glare, trying to remind him we’re talking about me here.

  “I think about her all the time,” I admit softly. The hole she’s left in my life is big, one that no one else is ever going to be able to fill.

  “Then show her. Don’t tell her, show her.”

  The idea has its merits, and I understand what Harper is trying to say, but I wonder if I’m too late.

  “What if she doesn’t want me anymore?”

  Cash chuckles darkly, rapping his nails on the table. “Trust me, she does. The way she watches you across the street every day, she wants you and the relationship you two can have. The guys who try to give her their numbers, that she doesn’t take? She’s waiting on you bro. Now man up and do something about it.”

  For the first time in a year, I have a plan.

  I’m going to win Tatum Walker back, I’m going to show her what she means to me, and I’m not going to stop until I have her in my arms.

  No matter how long that takes.