by Riley Jean
I pressed my lips together to stifle a giggle. Well, well, well. What do you know? Big bad Ricky Storm was a snuggler. If I were the type of girl to gossip, I’d bet the girls would love to hear about this.
Speaking of which… it was probably best no one actually found out about this. I wiggled again, but the grip around me only tightened.
“Ricky?” I whispered over my shoulder.
“Hmmph.”
“Ricky?” I said a bit louder.
His head lifted. I turned to face him with a shy smile. “Good morning.”
He rubbed one eye with a knuckle, looking at me lazily with the other. “Morning.”
“Thanks for letting me… you know… last night,” I whispered. “I’ll give you back your space now.”
His arms tightened around me once more. “You don’t have to go yet.”
“I do,” I insisted. “If the girls catch a glimpse of this, we’ll never hear the end of it.”
This time when I tried to disentangle our limbs, he let me go. Two fists stretched above his head as he let out a big, silent yawn. His t-shirt crept up and revealed his tan, well-muscled abs. I averted my eyes and turned towards the door.
Before I could get anywhere, he grabbed hold of my wrist. “Where you goin’, Scar?” He spoke quietly, his eyes half closed and his voice still heavy with sleep.
“Just outside. I need some air.” He released me.
It was only then that I noticed my bare legs. I looked down and found myself wearing a strange oversized t-shirt and boxers. I didn’t remember putting this on. But I guessed our clothes had been too wet to sleep in. It took everything in me not to dwell on those details. I searched around until I found the laundry area. Thank goodness, my clothes were among the load in the drier, and they were clean and dry.
Mental note: always carry a spare bathing suit.
I dressed and caught sight of myself in a mirror—frightening, but I didn’t have a pony tail holder so que será será—then made my way out of the cabin and closed the door quietly behind me. The morning air was cool and crisp. Leaning my elbows on the patio railing, I gazed blankly at the trees around us.
It had been awhile since I’d had such a vivid nightmare. Even though I was trying hard to bury my memories of that horrible night, those images still lived inside me, detailed and intense as ever. What could have triggered it? Yesterday was an eventful day; pinpointing the exact source seemed almost impossible. It could have been seeing faces from my past, getting close to people again, or simply that I had let go for one night and enjoyed myself.
Like it or not, the wall that I had worked so hard to build around my heart was not impenetrable. Despite my efforts, I was growing attached to people and feeling emotions again. Last night I used the classic coping mechanisms to deal with my distress: alcohol and human contact. The last thing I wanted was to rekindle my dependency on either one. I could only hope there wouldn’t be any serious repercussions from my moment of weakness. Sleeping next to Ricky was a first for us, and I didn’t want to make things weird.
My fingers gripped the railing with renewed determination. I couldn’t bring my walls down. There was too much shit deep down inside me that I was still terrified to deal with. I’d just have to be better about keeping everything out.
“You look far too unhappy to be gazing at a view like that.”
I flipped around and was pierced by a pair of eyes as deep and green as the forest around us.
“Vance?” I startled, nearly jumping out of my skin. He was sitting on the patio bench, staring intently back at me. I hadn’t heard him approach, had he been out here this whole time?
“Wh-What are you doing?” I asked, embarrassed that he had witnessed my private moment.
“Sitting,” he said plainly.
My forehead creased at his shortness. There was an edge to his voice that I wasn’t used to hearing from him, that lacked its usual warmth. Perhaps he was not a morning person.
“Whatever,” I muttered, remembering my wall. “I’m going on a walk.”
He stood up to follow. “I’ll go with you.”
“Maybe I don’t want company.”
“Maybe I don’t care.”
Yep. He definitely wasn’t a morning person.
“You’re grumpy this morning.”
“I am not grumpy,” he defended.
“You are. And I don’t want you to come with me.”
He laughed. “And you think I’m the grumpy one?”
His laugh broke the tension. I bit my lip to stifle a smile. “Well, I’m always like this. It’s assumed.”
“Not here,” he said quietly and approached me. “That’s what I love about this place. How could you be anything but at peace in a place like this?”
I followed his gaze to the trees. Two squirrels jumped from one branch to another; a butterfly floated softly on the breeze. I inhaled the scent of earth and pine as birds whistled their morning songs. We stood together and just appreciated the view.
“Look at those mountains, Rosie. When was the last time you really looked at them?”
I couldn’t even remember the last time I noticed them. When you have mountains in your own backyard, you forget their magnificence. But I was really seeing them now. The whole picture. The beauty of nature was all around us, in the vastness of the landscape, the tallness of the trees, the way the sun played across the early morning layer of mist. My heart fluttered a bit, feeling like it had been locked in the darkness for so many months, when this had been waiting outside every single day.
I was struck speechless, and Vance let me have my moment.
When I hid behind my walls, they blocked everything out, the good along with the bad. I was convinced that numbing myself was the only way to survive. I hadn’t seen anything beyond my own misery to find something worth holding onto. But now, looking at the sky and trees and earth before us, I could only wonder, what kind of life could I have without this?
* * *
Walking down the natural path, I kept my eyes open, taking it all in. It was like seeing beauty for the first time. The colors were what stood out most. In L.A. this clear, blue sky could never be fully appreciated, nor this never-ending blanket of lush greens. Here, there was nothing but wonder and peace as far as the eye could see. A girl could get swept off her feet in a place like this.
I walked silently beside Vance until we made it all the way to the lake. Then I took it in all over again. I didn’t want to miss a thing.
“Nice hair, by the way,” he said
My lips tilted up in the corners, but I kept my eyes on the water.
“Admit it. It’s sexy.”
It totally wasn’t sexy.
The thing about curly hair—it worked on a good day, but without product and especially after sleeping on it wet and tangled, it became an untamable frizz beast.
He chuckled at my sarcasm then took a breath. “So… you and Ricky Storm.”
I laughed wryly. Why did people around here act as if he were some sort of celebrity? Whenever people spoke of him, he was never just Ricky. He was always Ricky Storm. And somehow my own name had become part of that equation.
“You’re hilarious, Vance. Really. You’re funnier than a string bean.”
He looked at me, confused. “I don’t find string beans all that funny.”
“Exactly,” I deadpanned.
“You’re deflecting.”
“And you’ve been hanging out with gossipy girls for too long. When there aren’t enough fresh rumors floating around, they invent things.” Poor, diluted girls.
“They’re not inventing things.”
My eyes rolled. Was he seriously doing this? “You heard him last night during truth or dare. He’s never touched me like that. We’re just friends.”
“That’s not what it looks like when I wake up to find you two spooning in my Lazy Boy.”
Busted.
I clenched my jaw, trying to fight against the embarrassment that he had w
itnessed us together this morning. “And what exactly did it look like when you and I almost made out in front of your ex?”
That made him flinch.
“Things aren’t always what they seem.” I gave him a pointed look and turned away. No matter what it looked like, I wouldn’t be getting involved with Ricky or anyone else. Of all people, Vance should understand that.
He made a few quick strides toward me, not letting this conversation end. He grabbed hold of my arm but I ripped it away and leveled him with a glare. Why was he acting like this?
“So we’re back to that?” he said.
“You should be familiar with the concept by now.” I enunciated slowly for his benefit, “I don’t like to be touched.”
“I thought we were past your personal space issues.”
I looked at him curiously.
He sighed. “Okay, I hate to be that guy, but… you didn’t seem to mind it last night.”
Oh. That.
I looked away and ran a hand through my unruly mane. The memory of last night—falling into his lap in the cabin, clinging to his naked back in the lake and his amazing massage in the spa—brought heat to the surface of my cheeks. I had never been much of a flirt. But lowering my inhibitions with a little alcohol brought me right back to my scandalous summer in college where nothing mattered but touch.
That drunk, giggly girl had a deeper need for physical affection, a need that had been ignored for the past eight months, a need that could not be trusted with any sense or practicality. But I’ll be damned if Vance or any other guy found that out.
“It was just the Jim Beam, alright?” I lifted a shoulder awkwardly. “We all get a little flirty when we drink. No biggie.”
“No biggie,” he muttered to himself.
“Vance. I’m sorry, okay?” I held up my hands in front of me, a white flag. He was in a vulnerable place right now, especially after such a big breakup. I didn’t want to send mixed signals. “I’m your friend. I’m not trying to make things complicated. Let’s not make a habit out of drinking around each other.” There. Stick a fork in it.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Last night you were the most carefree I’ve ever seen you. I wish you were like that all the time.”
I smirked. “You want me to be drunk all the time?”
“That’s not what I mean. That was you. Enjoying yourself without trying so hard to suppress it. That happy person is still inside you. I don’t see why you pretend to be… this.”
Of course he didn’t understand. How could he know that when I let my guard down, when I let people in, when I started to care… there were consequences.
“It’s complicated,” I said. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine. Then answer me this: why him?” he demanded.
“Ricky?”
“I just don’t get it. Why, after insisting that you didn’t need anybody, after making me fight tooth and nail to be your friend, why do you let him in so easily? You trust him. You let him touch you. A guy that nobody trusts and everybody touches. Why him?”
“I’m surprised you’d stoop to caring about reputations and rumors,” I said, fists defensively at my sides. Where was this coming from? “At least he accepts me the way that I am. And he watches out for me. He’s like my brother.”
He shook his head. “You’re not seeing it clearly. Would a brother brand you with that tattoo? Would a brother feed you alcohol as a minor? Would a brother fall asleep holding you in his arms?”
“What exactly are you trying to say, Vance? I’ve already told you we’re not involved like that. And I don’t like to be doubted.”
“I’m not doubting you,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “You see him like a brother. I believe you.” He hesitated. “But I don’t think he sees you as his sister.”
I threw up my hands, exasperated. “You’re crazy! You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”
“Just trust me on this, Rosie.”
“And why should I?”
“Because I know a thing or two about relationships. I can read people better than you can. You said so yourself.”
“You’re wrong this time,” I insisted. He didn’t know what I knew about Ricky’s past or why we had the relationship that we did. Those weren’t my secrets to share.
“You didn’t believe Kiki when she said he was attracted to you,” he said. “She was right, you know.”
I hated myself for blushing. “Ricky isn’t attracted to me. It’s the way I look that will never let him want me like that. And he knows as well as you that I’m not interested in dating. He’d kick anyone’s ass for trying.”
He laughed humorlessly and latched his hands behind his head, elbows pointed out, and gazed towards the treetops. “You’re so blind.”
“Whatever, Vance.” I shoved past him and started walking back towards the cabin. He couldn’t make me stay and listen to this shit. I hated when people thought they knew better than me about my own life. Why the hell I even cared, I couldn’t say.
“You don’t know anything,” I muttered, marching along the dirt trail.
Not a second lapsed before he was at my side again, meeting me step for step. “I know you. Better than anyone.”
“Apparently not, if you haven’t figured out this conversation is pissing me off.”
“I’m not afraid to piss you off.” To prove this he grabbed my hand. I spun around and shoved at his chest.
“Keep your hands off me!”
“Why do you have a conniption when anyone tries to touch you?”
“Not anyone,” I defended, “Just… just guys.”
“But not Ricky?” he stated. “Why not me?”
My mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out. I was about to answer his first question, right before the second poured out. Why not Ricky? Because I had known him for years. He had taught me how to read and how to defend myself. He was like a brother to me, more-so than my own brother. He’d been there for me through a lot of heavy shit, including the worst of it this past year. He was familiar and uncomplicated. How could I deny him what we’d always had?
As for Vance… I didn’t have a ready answer to that one.
Things were beginning to click into place… Ricky’s visit to Mooshi on my birthday, where we rode away on his motorcycle. The night at The Alley when we played poker together. Smudgepot when he put his arm around me. This morning in the cabin when we woke up spooning. Vance hadn’t questioned my no-touching rule until Ricky came along. Ricky touched me—in a casual and brotherly way—but I never stopped him like I stopped Vance. And now Vance wanted to know why.
He spoke softly. “It begs the question, don’t you think? Can a man and a woman, both single and unattached, ever just be strictly friends?”
Easy. “I think they can—”
“No, Rosie. They can’t. Every time, eventually, one of them begins to fall.”
We stared at one another, and for the first time, I noted the changes in our postures. I had unknowingly backed myself against a tree, and Vance stood towering over me. His normal smile was absent, replaced with a multitude of emotions.
This wasn’t the harmless banter we had grown accustomed to. There was something behind it that I didn’t quite understand, but whatever it was, it made my stomach tighten. Whenever I got upset, Vance was always quick to make me laugh or calm me down. Sometimes he pushed me, but never aggressively.
There was nothing playful about him now. Now he was on the offensive.
“Vance?” I looked up at him, my eyes and voice now soft. “I won’t be the one to fall.”
After a few seconds, he seemed to come to his senses. He took a step back and relaxed his stance, but he did not break eye contact. Neither of us spoke. And I began to wonder how this conversation had taken such a turn.
I knew exactly what Vance was doing—he was trying to protect me. I tended to bring out that side of guys. The curly hair and dimples gave off a helpless vibe that some
guys picked up on. Plus, Vance knew all about what happened with Nathan and Miles. And as much as I hated to admit it, Ricky didn’t exactly have a shining reputation when it came to girls. Vance just didn’t want to see me get hurt again.
It wasn’t that he wanted me for himself or anything crazy like that. I could see how this whole thing could be misconstrued for jealously if they really stretched. But Kiki and Summer were wrong. They were wrong. Vance was just being protective and he didn’t know Ricky like I did. He didn’t understand why I trusted him.
Regardless, he couldn’t keep acting like this. While I appreciated his concern, I would suffocate if someone else tried to control my actions and made me explain myself all the time. I couldn’t stand living under the thumb of Lexi, my old best friend, and I didn’t walk away from her just to be similarly manipulated by someone else. Especially if that person were a guy… an unattached guy…
The lines were getting blurred. To the outside observer, it looked worse than it was. He had to see the sense in that.
I took a long, deep breath and prepared myself for a conversation that I seriously didn’t want to have.
“Things are going to have to change, Vance.”
“Okay…?” he said, wary of my change in direction.
“With… you know. Us. We can’t hang out like we used to.”
Confusion swept across his face. “Why?”
“Because you… because now you’re…”
“Because I’m single?”
Yes. That. I nodded.
“So, we could be friends when I had a girlfriend, but not now that I’m single?”
“Exactly.”
He looked at me as if I were ridiculous. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well…” I explained, “Now people think we… you know.”
“So?”
“So…” Did I need to spell it out for him? “I don’t want people to think that.”
“Rosie. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. You just said you don’t care about reputations and rumors. You can’t have it both ways.”
“But,” I reached, “it’s not appropriate for two single people to be alone together all the time. It doesn’t look right.”