Doughn’t Let Me Go

by Hunter, Teagan

  I don’t look at them, just out at the ocean. Maybe if I can’t see their eyes, I won’t see their judgment.

  “We met at Slice, of all places.”

  “Of all the pizza places in all the land,” Drew says wistfully.

  “What the fuck does my dad put in that sauce?” Wren comments.

  I laugh and continue. “I was there to get something cheap to eat and try to relax for a change. Then I saw him. He looked so ridiculously out of place in his fancy suit.”

  “God does that man know how to wear a suit.”

  “Wren!”

  “What?” she hisses to Drew. “I’m married, not blind. And don’t tell me you don’t think Porter is smokin’ hot.”

  “I mean, he’s not bad to look at. But honestly, what makes him so attractive is the way he loves his daughter.” Drew sighs. “Now that’s what I call hot.”

  She’s looking over at the guys, who are now a little farther down the beach. Porter’s in the water with Kyrie now, the two basically taking turns falling on the boogie board.

  “I agree,” I murmur.

  The girls giggle.

  “Anyway, we started talking and the sparks were obviously there between us. So, on a whim, I went home with him. The next morning was as awkward as all one-night stands are and we went our separate ways.”

  “Until…” Wren presses. “Please tell me you’re not going to stop there. I’ve been wanting details on the next day for weeks now. Foster hasn’t divulged because he’s a selfish…what did you call him? Asshole.” She laughs.

  “I was referring to Porter, but if the shoe fits,” I tease. “I went back to Slice the next morning for the interview. I—”

  “Hold up,” Drew interrupts. “Your interview was at Slice?” She shakes her head. “That’s…odd.”

  “It’s a thing Porter does, I guess. He has the interviewee choose a place that makes them comfortable. That way they’re less likely to be all nervous and bumble their way through the process.”

  “Oh. Well, shit. That’s actually kind of brilliant,” Drew says. “Continue.”

  “I chose Slice because I’ve been there many times and because if the interview went south, I could at least drown my sorrows in cheap carbs.”

  “Good plan,” Wren comments.

  “Imagine my surprise when Porter was sitting there too. I didn’t think anything of it at first. It’s a small town, so we were bound to run into each other again, though I was surprised it happened so soon. We talked a bit and then he said he was meeting someone, and I took that as my cue to go meet what would hopefully be my new boss by the door. That’s when we discovered who the other was.”

  “I’m sorry, but your name isn’t very common. Did he not put two and two together when he met a Doris the night before and was meeting a Doris for an interview?”

  “Well, Doris here,” Wren cuts in, “doesn’t actually like going by Doris after all.”

  Drew’s surprised eyes find mine. “You don’t? I’ve known you for a while now and I’m just now finding this out?”

  I shrug. “I’m sorry. You’re kind of…”

  “A bulldozer?” Wren suggests.

  I nod and Drew tries to look affronted, but it’s no use. She is very much a bulldozer, and it’s useless trying to deny it.

  It’s okay, though. Her headstrong attitude is what got her where she is, and based on her beautiful ginger baby and the fiancé who dotes all over her, I’d say she’s doing just fine.

  “I go by Dory,” I tell her. “To my friends.”

  “Did you not think we were friends?”

  Now she looks upset, and I grimace.

  “Sorry. It’s not that. It’s just…I don’t really do relationships—of any kind. Things in my life don’t always work out, so I try to keep my distance.”

  “Like, not even friendship relationships?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “In fact, the last best friend I had I talked into taking my virginity in high school. He felt so bad afterward that we didn’t speak again.”

  They both frown, eyes filled with sadness, and I have to look away, not wanting their pity.

  “What happened next? With Porter, obviously, not that train wreck of losing your v-card,” Wren asks, picking up on my discomfort.

  I laugh lightly, remembering me running from the pizzeria.

  “I ran. He followed. We decided it would be best if I didn’t interview.”

  “Then how’d you get the job?”

  “Basically he felt bad for me and offered it to me. I couldn’t resist saying yes.”

  I look down the beach at Porter.

  His head is tossed back mid-laugh as Kyrie stands there with her arms crossed, not happy with her father for laughing at her latest wipeout.

  “For the pay,” I say. “Obviously.”

  The girls grin knowingly, both shaking their heads.

  “Right. Obviously,” Drew says, trying to smother a laugh but failing. “And how did the sneaking around come about?”

  “Basically, I got drunk on my twenty-first birthday, begged him to kiss me, and he turned me down.”

  “Okay, wow. You are a really bad friend, Dory.” Drew says my nickname pointedly. “You didn’t even tell us it was your twenty-first birthday so we could go out and get you properly drunk? What the hell?”

  “Well, if you were listening, her boyfriend got her drunk and then respectfully denied her advances. I’d say she had a really good twenty-first birthday without us,” Wren tells her.

  I blush when she says boyfriend, which is really stupid because Porter is definitely not my boyfriend. I know this, he knows this, and they know this too.

  So then why does the word make my heart race? Why is there a voice in my head that wants it to be true when we all know it can’t ever be that way?

  “And now you’re together.”

  “Yes,” I confirm, even though Wren wasn’t asking. “Well, not together together. We’re just…”

  “Fucking?” Drew provides.

  “Jesus, Drew!” Wren shakes her head, laughing. “What is wrong with you?”

  She shrugs. “Nothing. Just ask your brother—I’m perfect.”

  “Oh, I know way better than that,” she says. “Besides, I don’t trust his judgment when it comes to you. He’s all kinds of crazy about you. His views are clouded.”

  “And are Foster’s clouded when it comes to you?” Drew challenges.

  “No. I’m perfect.”

  We all laugh.

  Just then, Foster comes racing toward us, baby Nellie in his arms.

  “Shit!” he pants. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  “Okay?”

  “Everywhere. All over me.” He pulls the baby away and sure enough, there’s a bunch of shit all over his stomach. “I’m gonna puke.”

  Wren jumps to her feet and he hands his daughter off to his wife, who holds the baby out like the offending creature she is and races toward the house.

  “I’ll be back!” she calls over her shoulder as she takes off after him.

  “I am so glad I don’t have to worry about Kyrie doing that stuff.”

  “Be very glad. A blown-out diaper is the worst.”

  “How did he not know?” I wonder.

  “Babies are quick little shits.” She laughs at her own words. “Well, that was fitting.” Drew digs into the basket we brought down from the house and produces a bag of chips. “Snack?”

  I shake my head. “I think I’ve lost my appetite after that.”

  She shrugs. “You get used to it. Just wait until you have a kid of your own. Things you find disgusting now won’t be so gross later.”

  “Kids are not on my list of things to have.”

  “Smart girl,” Drew says, twisting the cap off her water and taking a swig. “They’re draining—emotionally, physically, and financially.” She peeks over at Winston and Riker. “I guess they’re worth it though. To me, at least.”

  “It’s nice seeing you so happy,” I tell
her. “You had me scared for a while there.”

  She looks at me meaningfully. “I wouldn’t have gotten through those first few months without you, Dory.” She winks. “I appreciate you more than you know. I’m glad Porter held on to your info and you ended up with him. He’s a really good guy.”

  “I’m not with him,” I remind her.

  “I just meant work-wise, but glad to know your denial game is so strong.” She laughs at the look on my face. “What? I’m just saying. You two ending up together… It’s inevitable.”

  “It’s not though. We’re making sure to keep feelings out of it.”

  “Please.” She waves her hand. “Winston and I tried that shit too. We failed—miserably. Or joyfully, whichever way you want to look at it. Now I’m happy we snuck around like we did. It gave us time to get to know each other without everyone else sticking their noses in our business. I think it made us stronger in the end.” She looks over at me. “And, by the way, none of us will get in your business. We know there’s a little more at stake here than just you two, and we don’t want to out you before you’re ready.”

  Kyrie. The reason we can’t bring feelings into this. The reason we have to sneak around in the first place.

  I’ll be honest, the sneaking is fun, but it’s also exhausting, increasingly so.

  I have to constantly remind myself to keep my hands off Porter, to not reach out and touch him whenever I feel like it. I can’t kiss that stupid scar above his eyebrow whenever I want.

  He’s mine, but he’s not.

  And that’s getting more difficult to keep straight as each night passes.

  “For what it’s worth, I think she’d be ecstatic if you two got together.”

  I follow her eyes to Porter and Kyrie, who are now making sand angels, something I’m sure Porter will regret later when he has to clean sand out of his nether regions.

  I don’t say anything out loud, but I think Kyrie would approve of us too.

  I try to never think about it, because I know my life better than that. Nothing good ever lasts. It’s just the unspoken rule of my existence.

  One step forward, three back.

  But maybe, if I don’t put expectations on this, things will be different this time.

  And I really, really want them to be.

  Slice Fifteen

  Porter

  “So, how are things with you and Doris?” Foster rolls his eyes when I scowl at him. “Sorry, Dory.”

  “I’m not mean-mugging you because you called her the wrong name, I’m doing it because what the fuck?” I wave my hand to Winston and Sully. “Just gonna out us like that?”

  “Well…” Foster grins over the beer bottle poised at his lips. “I meant professionally, but now that you’ve outed yourself, do tell us more.”

  “You fucker,” I groan, tossing my head back.

  We’re all sitting on the back patio enjoying a couple beers while the girls put the kids down for the night. We tried helping, but they insisted all we were doing was riling them up and out the door we went. We were just trying to play freeze tag, but whatever.

  “For what it’s worth, we knew something was going on,” Winston says.

  “You did? How?”

  Sully laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, you clueless, clueless bastard.”

  “What?” I growl, becoming annoyed.

  He sits forward. “You do know you’ve been openly staring at her all day, right?” When I open my mouth to argue, he shakes his head. “Don’t even think about trying to spit out an excuse like ‘yeah because have you seen her banging body’ at me. She’s wearing a one-piece I’m pretty sure my grandma has, and she had a coverup on most of the day.”

  I blame my heating cheeks on the swig of beer I guzzle down.

  I didn’t realize I was openly staring at her. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’ve been sneaking glances her way all day, but I thought they were just that—glances.

  Apparently, I’m not as sly as I thought.

  If Sully and Winston noticed, did Dory notice too?

  “Whatever,” I say. “It isn’t like that.”

  “I know a horny look when I see one,” Sully insists.

  “Only because those are the only kinds of looks you give,” Winston teases. “When are you going to finally get yourself a lady? Isn’t your right hand tired?”

  In true Sully fashion, he stays tightlipped.

  I haven’t spent a lot of time with him, but I’ve been around him enough times to know Sully would rather remain quiet than engage with personal questions. Which naturally makes a person have more questions.

  When he does disclose information about his life, it’s always in the most subtle of ways, and you really only have a moment to catch it before he’s on to the next thing.

  It’s equally annoying and intriguing.

  I settle back into my chair, resting my head against the pillow attached to the backing, and close my eyes, letting the cool night air wash over me.

  Between the stresses of work and hiding the sneaking around with Dory, a relaxing day on the beach with my friends is exactly what I needed.

  It’s not that I’m not enjoying my time with Dory, because I am.

  A little too much, if I’m being honest.

  But I’m not about to let her in on that little secret. It’d send her running for the hills, and the last thing I want to do is lose her.

  “Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook, Porter.”

  Sighing, I peel my eyes open, staring down my best friend with a look that would send most cowering.

  “You’re the fucking worst.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Working with Dory is great. Kyrie loves her.”

  “And you?”

  I nearly choke on my beer.

  Foster laughs, reaching over to smack my back, putting a little more force into it than necessary. “I meant how do you feel about her, not do you love her.” He sits back with a victorious grin. “But it’s nice to know tossing out the L word gets that kind of reaction from you.”

  “Very telling indeed,” Sully murmurs.

  I look at Winston when he doesn’t chime in too.

  “What? No smartass comment from you?”

  He folds his hands over his stomach. “Oh, you’re definitely deep in denial. But you don’t need me to tell you that, do you?”

  “I hate all of you.”

  “Doubt that,” Sully says.

  We all sip our beers quietly for several minutes, listening to the sounds coming from inside the house, which include a lot of things like, “Don’t touch that!” and “Oh my god, just go to sleep already!”

  I really feel like we should go in there and help them, but I know it’s pointless. Too many cooks in the kitchen and all that.

  Until I hear it.

  “Dad!”

  “And that’s my cue,” I say, pulling myself from the comfy chair at Kyrie’s cry for me. “I’ll be right back.”

  Stepping into Winston’s house, I look around, really noticing for the first time how much his place has changed in the last year.

  There are now toys stuffed into every corner, a stray baby sock poking out from under the couch, and numerous gorgeous photographs of him, Riker, and Drew on the once empty walls.

  It looks like a family lives here.

  Stepping closer to the pictures, I take a long look at them.

  They’re all so happy, so full of love. Looking at these, you’d never know Winston and Drew used to be sworn mortal enemies, would never even guess that Riker doesn’t belong to Winston. Their little hodge-podge family looks like the epitome of perfection.

  A pang of jealousy stabs at me.

  I used to have that too, the perfect family.

  Now it’s torn and frayed, but I yearn for something like it again.

  With Dory.

  The thought strikes me, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

  I wasn’t lying earlier. T
hings are great with Dory and Kyrie.

  But things with Dory and me? Well, on the surface they look great. They feel great. But with every day that passes, I know I don’t just want her nights.

  I want her kisses.

  I want her heart.

  I want her.

  So, so badly.

  But I know she doesn’t want me, not like that, in that forever kind of way. She wants no attachments, and I’m fine to play along for the sake of having just a piece of her. It’s why I suggested the arrangement we have.

  Maybe if we play at this long enough, it’ll become real.

  God, I hope so.

  “Dad!” Kyrie calls out, only this time it sounds like Duh-add, alluding to her growing annoyance.

  Spoiled little shit.

  I step away from the pictures of the kind of family I long for, making a mental note to talk to Winston about setting up a photoshoot with me and Kyrie, and head down the hall to Riker’s room.

  When I walk in, I’m surprised to find it’s just Doris and Kyrie inside.

  “Where’s everyone else?”

  “Wren took baby Nellie for a drive to get her to calm down, and Riker decided he’s still hungry. Drew’s making him another bottle.”

  I nod, moving into the room. “What’s up, kiddo? You rang for me?”

  “I didn’t call you, but I could if you bought me a cell phone.”

  “Ha. Keep dreaming. Speaking of dreaming…why aren’t you sleeping yet?”

  She lifts her little shoulder. “I don’t know. I can’t fall asleep. I was thinking maybe you could tell me that story you used to tell me about those guys who are covered in grease?”

  I feel Dory’s stare on me, but I don’t turn toward her.

  When Kyrie was younger, she’d ask me to tell her a story. I told her the one I know by heart—The Outsiders.

  I settle down on the floor where Kyrie’s makeshift bed is. She begged and pleaded to stay the night with the “little kids,” as she calls them. And because I can’t deny her anything, here we are.

  “There once was a group of guys who were covered in grease…” Kyrie starts for me, and Dory snorts out a laugh, then quickly covers her mouth.

  “What’s so funny?” my daughter asks her.

  “Nothing,” Dory insists. “It’s nothing. Keep going. I want to hear more.”