The Boyfriend List

by Novelle, R. S.

  “You don’t keep a spare anywhere?”

  Had it not been for the attractive pout she was displaying as she shook her head, glaring resentfully at the door, Ian’s smile would’ve escaped and exposed him. But for her sake, he kept it under control. “Okay, calm down.” He began kneading gently at the tight muscles in her shoulders. “Let’s think.”

  Thinking, however, was the last thing Reagan was capable of doing just then. As his hands worked to loosen the tension around her shoulders, she could feel herself melting into his touch. She closed her eyes, but little visions of what else those hands might be capable of doing teased the edges of her mind so she stepped quickly away, out of his reach before she was in danger of taking the fantasy any further. “Can I just go back to bed and pretend this day never happened?”

  “Sure, if you can get in the door to get back to your bed.” Ian laughed. “Why don’t you just come up to my place and wait. It’ll be more comfortable than sitting on the stairs waiting for Petra to get back.”

  Reagan swallowed hard. “Be serious.” For as long as she’d known him, she’d never once been invited inside his apartment. And as far as she knew, neither had anyone else. Even the girls he’d taken a more romantic interest in. It was his private space, and he very much liked to keep it that way. “You’re actually going to make an exception for me?”

  “Sure why not.” He shrugged, then he trailed the edge of his finger slowly, casually down her bare arm until he elicited a barely perceptible shiver. “Come on up, you can even take a shower if you want,” then he tugged gently at the edge of her soda soaked shirt and made a face, “and then hang out until Petra gets back. We’ll leave a note for her to come up when she gets home. It could be fun.”

  As she contemplated the term fun, she wondered if his version of fun matched her own ideas, then deciding it probably didn’t, she sighed in regret. She wasn’t sure what was going on inside her head this week, but she was fairly confident that being alone in Ian’s apartment with him wasn’t going to help matters at all. Still, what was she going to do? Sit out on the landing until god-knows-when with no internet access, or plugs for her phone and computer? That hardly seemed rational considering there was a perfectly good apartment being offered to her, complete with a hot shower to purge herself of the sticky residue that had worn out it’s welcome a long time ago.

  “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” He put his fingers up in a Boy Scout pledge of honesty. Yet somehow the gesture made him look even more wicked, and all the more alluring because of it. She was going to have to take his word for it though, she couldn’t see any other option.

  Quickly scribbling a note, she stuck it to the door and hoped it’d stay there: Petra – key went missing. Can’t get in. Up at Ian’s. Call me. R.

  “Alright now, Miss Neat Freak.” Ian said as he slid the key comfortably into his own lock. “Give me a minute to pick up a few things before you start complaining too much. Deal?”

  Eyebrows raised in suspicion, Reagan suddenly realized she had no idea what to expect from Ian’s apartment, and any mysteries that lie behind the door were about to be permanently revealed. While it was true that his personal hygiene had always been impeccable, she’d also learned long ago that the same care and attention men put into their bodies does not always translate to a well kept living space. She thought of her own tidy room and bathroom, then scrunched her nose up at the idea of wet, musty towels on the floor. Or worse, hairs all over the sink. Eww, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Deal?” he persisted.

  She relented with a smile. “Fine.” Her voice was full of charm, masking her inner thoughts: What exactly have I gotten myself into?

  The door swung wide and Ian stood to the side, opening his arms with a gracious gesture to allow Reagan to enter first.

  The apartment was huge – it appeared more than twice the size of her own generous residence, though she was fairly certain they’d rented the same floor plan. Still, it felt different, and exuded the kind of comfortable, simple, modern chic that up until now she’d only seen in movies that had been centered around the ridiculously wealthy, stylish people who played jazz and sipped expensive wine while standing on the balcony and looking down at all the little people below. But it was clean, surprisingly so for a guy. Was Ian one of those people? He’d never really acted like that, but the guy sure had good taste in furniture. Another sudden realization came to her that maybe she didn’t know the him as well as she thought she did. Maybe there was a lot more going on here than she’d been aware of.

  Recovering from her initial surprise, she finally stepped further inside, and Ian closed the door behind them. “Nice place.” She managed.

  “Thanks.” He was gazing down at her, smiling warmly at her obvious reaction. “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

  “Not at all. Has Isabella seen it yet?” Reagan was only half teasing, though in her gut she was cringing at the possibility.

  “That’s really bothering you, huh?” Ian looked as though he’d surrendered to the inevitable as he walked through the short foyer and into the kitchen. Regretting even bringing up the girl’s name now, Reagan avoided eye contact with him as she looked around for a suitable place to put her satchel. Dropping it precariously on the edge of the counter, she listened as he continued, hoping this conversation would be over soon. But Ian was already moving closer to her, stepping into her personal space. “I’ve dated other girls since we’ve known each other. What is it about this one that’s got you so worked up?”

  Reagan shrugged. “Intuition? I think you could do better.” She smiled on the last comment, using his own phrase against him for once.

  Placing his hands on her shoulders, he squeezed gently. “Don’t worry about me. It’s my job to worry about you.” He was holding her stare for just a little longer than was necessary to make his point, and Reagan could feel something shifting between them. An energy, a sort of heat, pulsated in the small space between their bodies. As though a spark had been lit, the moment built in intensity until she could barely breathe, and she wondered if he could feel it too.

  “Says who?” She finally trusted her voice to inquire.

  But instead of answering, he released her shoulders and began pulling away, putting just a few more inches of space between them. It was enough that she could breathe again, and for that she was thankful. Yet the moment had been broken, and she was beginning to regret having said anything at all.

  “I’m not interested in dating Isabella.” He was explaining gently as she tuned back into the conversation and out of her thoughts. “I’m not interested in spending any time with her at all, actually. To be honest, I haven’t even spoke to her since Monday, and probably wouldn’t have answered the phone if you hadn’t grabbed it first.”

  “Oh.” Was all she could think to say as embarrassment wound itself into a tight little ball that fell hard into her stomach.

  “She’s not my type, Reagan. You should know that.”

  “So what is your type?” The question had escaped her lips before she could do anything about it. Immediately closing her eyes, she shook her head. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I don’t really want to know.” But when she looked up again, Ian was smiling as though he had a secret to keep, and she couldn’t help but to wonder what it was.

  “You probably want to take a shower and get all that soda off, right?”

  Tugging at her shirt, Reagan had to peel the material from her chest, and a sticky, sugary film remained on her skin. That was going to be a definite yes – and never had she been quite so thankful for a distraction as she was in that moment. She needed to get cleaned up, sure, but more importantly she needed to get her head screwed back on and her thoughts straightened out. If she kept up at the rate she was going, she might scare away one of the closest friends she had, and she wouldn’t be able to bear the awkwardness and loss if that happened.

  “Bathroom’s down the hall to your right. Well... you kn
ow that.” He corrected himself, confirming her suspicions that they did in fact occupy the same floor plan. “You can grab a shirt from my closet if you need it.”

  She dared a quick kiss on the cheek, a friendly peck that she’d offered so many times before, before disappearing down the hall. So why were her lips tingling this time as she walked away?

  Reagan wasn’t the only one caught off guard by the reaction. Ian had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep himself from catching her around the waist and pulling her into him. It’d been a hard gesture that required much restraint on his part, and as he heard her steps fading down the hallway, he released a whoosh of air that he’d been holding in his lungs. To keep both his hands and his mind occupied, and not fixated on the picture in his mind of Reagan in the shower, he turned to search his fridge for a drink, a snack, anything that would keep him busy. But he inadvertently knocked over her satchel in the process. As books and binders fell from the bag, scattering across the floor, he cringed at the mess and dutifully bent over to put it all back together.

  Until, that is, something interesting caught his eye and he paused to inspect it.

  Reagan’s checklists.

  The secret source of her strange behavior that week was right in front of him, practically in his hands. Did he dare? The bathroom door was shut and he thought he could hear the sound of running water. He was safe…for a few minutes at least.

  Pulling them out, he began to flip through them one by one, careful not to get them out of order in case that would give his curiosity away. He could only imagine her reaction if she caught him snooping through something she kept so guarded. The results were amusing, as were the notes both she and Petra had scratched into the margins of the paper. And then, he came across a list with his name at the top.

  Surprised, in the most flattered sort of way, he glanced over it quickly to find it was the only one with all the boxes marked off down the row of qualities. Except, that is, for one they’d left blank: good kisser. He couldn’t help but to smile as he glanced back toward the bathroom door, and he began to wonder what this meant, if it meant anything at all. Was Reagan beginning to look at him from a different perspective? Was that why she’d been so prickly about Isabella lately? The idea intrigued him as much as the hope it was giving him. If there was ever anything he’d wanted from Reagan, it was the opportunity to show her that he really could be the perfect boyfriend – if only she’d give him the chance. But she never had, and he’d had to sit by for years and watch her get hurt by a string of men who weren’t worthy of her attention. Now, maybe he could change her mind about that.

  Completely unaware of what Ian had discovered in just the next room, Reagan was relaxing under a searing stream of powerful water droplets. Vowing never to take a hot shower for granted again, she quickly rid herself of all the sticky particles and soda residue before stepping out again after just a few minutes. Wrapping herself in a large, surprisingly fluffy towel, she already felt better – about everything.

  But as she zipped up her jeans, a curse escaped under her breath. She’d forgotten to grab a clean shirt before getting into the water. Perfect, she muttered to herself.

  Stubbornly refusing to put the old one back on – however short the time would be that she’d have to wear it – she decided instead on an alternate plan. The bedroom wasn’t too far away, she concluded as she wrapped the towel securely around her top half. Chances are, Ian would be nowhere near. She could sneak into his room, fully covered thanks to the towel, slip on a shirt and no one would ever know the difference. Except her, of course.

  Clutching the damp material to her chest, she crept toward the door and began to turn the knob.

  Ian’s intentions had been just as innocent, but just as perilous in their delivery.

  After hearing that the water had been turned off, he scurried to shove the checklists back into Reagan’s bag and went racing down the hall. He’d simply wanted to make sure she had everything she needed. A tap at the door, a question through the wood, then he’d leave her be. Ten seconds, tops. No harm done.

  Had he not chosen that exact moment, no harm would have been done. Had the door not swung open just as he approached, his intentions still would’ve been safe. But as it was, a half-dressed Reagan not only came rushing out into the hallway through a cloud of evaporating steam, but collided right into him, thanks of his excellent timing. And so, a little harm was done, though Ian was too stunned and speechless to figure out the exact ramifications right away.

  Reagan was in no better condition. Complete embarrassment, not to mention the shock of seeing someone on the other side of the door, had forced a squeal of surprise from her lips. She nearly lost her grip on the towel when her body crashed fully into his, but managed to recover it just before her modesty was lost.

  With neither of them thinking clearly, and both in a state of complete mortification, they were frozen together, bodies tight against one another...until Ian realized he’d instinctively wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her tight in an effort to steady their stance before they both went tumbling toward the ground. They seemed to come to the realization together, and while Ian’s face flushed red with embarrassment, his body appeared incapable of moving.

  Reagan, however, needed space and quickly. Her body temperature was steadily rising and it was getting difficult to breathe again. She took it upon herself to free them of his grip, and quickly backed up into the hallway until her back pressed up against the cool wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” While she knew deep down he hadn’t meant it in any disrespectful way, she also couldn’t help but to speak with the ferocity of an embarrassed female. It just slipped out, before she could pull it back in. “That’s what you call your best behavior?”

  “Can you go back in the bathroom please?” Ian wasn’t asking – he was begging. And doing so with the utmost patience he could gather at the moment. Turning his back to her, he still covered his eyes, just for added precaution.

  “Answer my question.” She insisted.

  “It was an accident. Will you just go back in the bathroom now?”

  “Stop giving me orders.”

  Though he turned around to face her, he still shielded his eyes. “It’s my house.” He reminded her.

  “And?”

  “You’re not going back into the bathroom are you?” It was less of a question and more of a resolution. He was going to have to find another way to deal with this, and his visions of her. If only he knew how to do that...“Damn it Reagan. What the hell are you doing coming out of the bathroom half naked anyway?”

  “Naked?” She practically gasped at the accusation. “Hardly. This towel isn’t transparent you know. And besides, I’m way less covered in a bathing suit, and that’s never bothered you before.”

  He finally lowered his hand to look directly at her, found the visual of her ample cleavage popping over the top of the towel wasn’t helping, and recovered his eyes. Though truth be told, that did nothing to rid his mind of all the ways he’d envisioned her already in those brief few minutes. “I’m a guy. I have an imagination and seeing you at the pool in a bathing suit is completely different than seeing you come out of my bathroom wrapped in a towel.”

  The faintest hint of a smile worked its way into the corner of Reagan’s lips. It was almost a compliment, she considered. “I forgot to grab a shirt before I went in.” When she finally replied, her voice was considerably calmer. Funny how that worked.

  “Yeah.” His breath blew out fast with the word. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  The physical effect she had on him was only just now starting to occur to her, and she couldn’t help but to enjoy it a little more than she probably should’ve. For the first time, she was beginning to realize that not only did Ian feel just as awkward as she did standing in the hallway like that, but he might even be just as attracted to her as she’d recently discovered she was to him. They were both trying to protect their friendship with each other, but w
hat would happen if they just gave in and let go?

  Armed with this new knowledge, her voice dipped low and heavy, and her lashes batted a few extra times as she spoke. “Should I just keep standing here now? All naked and wet like this. Or should I go in and get something to put on?.”

  Ian bit back a groan. “Yeah.” His eyes were still pressed tightly shut behind his fingers.

  “Yeah to which one?” It was tempting to play with him, just a little. She suddenly felt powerful, more in control than she ever had. But he was trying so hard to be decent about the situation that she managed to refrain.

  He didn’t respond directly, but set his jaw in determination as he spun himself around and stalked toward the bedroom. “I’ll get a shirt for you.” He muttered beneath his breath. After slamming the closet door open, he ripped a black shirt from the vast selection and watched as the plastic hanger tumbled to the floor. Not caring enough to pick it up, he mumbled some curse in its general direction before striding toward the doorway again and tossing the shirt out at Reagan. Then he pointed to the bathroom. “Let me know when you’ve got all your clothes on.” He stated before shutting the bedroom door again.

  Reagan didn’t bother going back into the bathroom. She dropped the towel right there in the hallway, and quickly pulled the soft shirt over her head. Then after draping the wet towel over the bathroom door, she pushed her way into his bedroom, a sly grin adorning her face. “Better?”

  He’d been pacing back and forth across the length of his room – a reaction that thoroughly amused and empowered her. But when she entered, he quickly claimed the edge of his bed.

  “Do I dare look?” His eyes were fixated firmly on the ground, but Reagan merely rolled hers before plopping down on the bed beside him. After looking her over, he smiled and nodded his head. “Much better. Looks good on you.”

  But the smile was lingering, as was his gaze. And as his hand slid comfortably next to hers, Reagan’s heart skipped a beat or two when she felt his fingers begin to intertwine with hers. Unable to remove their eyes from each other, Ian leaned slightly in, just enough that Reagan couldn’t deny the gesture and wondered what was behind it. Was he about to say something? Maybe try to kiss her? Whatever it’d been – an awareness, a regret perhaps - he seemed to reconsider it, and stopped himself. Standing to his feet, he offered her a hand, which she readily took. She was just as ready to put the little mishap behind them as he apparently was.