Page 72 of All's Fair in Love and Blackmail
I am now paying the price. His body is curved around mine, his arms banded around me, and I am annoyed. I’m annoyed because the whole point of this outing was to see the aspens turning, and all I can seem to focus on is stupid Felix Caine on the back of my stupid motorcycle. I’m hyperaware of everywhere our bodies are touching, completely and idiotically fascinated by the muscles I can feel in his arms, wondering how it feels for him to be holding me like this.
Why did I think this was a good idea? Just because I promised him he could come with me last time I mentioned it? I’ve broken promises before. I could have broken that one too. And then I would have some peace.
Also, he’s warm. So warm. Or maybeI’mthe one who’s warm—either way, I’m gross and sweaty in my helmet, and I probably stink.
Good,my mind throws out savagely.Get a whiff of him, too, and see how bad he smells. Then stop thinking about him like you’re a teenager all over again.
That’s absolutely right. He’s not a god. He’s not some incredibly amazing man. He’s just Felix, normal old Felix, and I got over him a long time ago. There is no need to be feeling attraction or fondness or affection now. Be friends with him while he finishes up his article, and then bid him farewell.
I imagine my weird feelings for him flying away as I ride, sending my worries into the sky like a bird being let out of its cage. I try to release them just like that—I’ve been holding them close, without even realizing, becausenormal old Felixis still unique and great and joyful to be around. I don’t know if it works, but the visual does help me let go for a moment and be present in my surroundings.
The dense forest lining the road is deep and green and inviting, even when I keep my eyes ahead of me. I haven’t seen much of the changing aspens yet, but now I try to pay more attention. It occurs to me, almost too late, that we’re currently on the same path that leads to Crow Point; I wasn’t consciously heading there, but part of me must have gone that direction anyway.
Crow Point is not a good idea. So I take the right fork instead of the left when the opportunity arises, a road that hugs the mountain from a different angle. Felix never speaks up behind me—although what would he say?—but he doesn’t have to talk for his presence to loom. Even as I try to get out of my head, I’m still aware of his frame curved around mine, his fingers digging ever so slightly into my stomach where he’s holding onto me.
As we rise in elevation, I start to see clumps of changing aspens, and I smile. There aren’t many of them, but even the few are gorgeous. We continue to climb, winding and turning, until finally we reach an outlook point. This one is clearly less popular than Crow Point, maybe because the view is more subtle, but my heart sings with relief when we arrive.
I need some space. I need to breathe.
And maybe Felix can tell, because as soon as we park next to an ancient picnic table, his arms disappear from around me. It wouldn’t necessarily be unlike him to hold on and make some flirtatious quip, but he doesn’t; he all but jumps off of Betsy, backing away as he pulls his helmet off.
“How does your hair still look good?” I say with disgust as I swing my leg over and dismount too.
He tucks his helmet under his arm and shoots me a grin. “It’s a gift. Perfect hair always. But never fear—it’s a power I don’t take lightly.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say, the sound thick with skepticism. I remove my helmet and wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my jacket. “I have not been blessed with the same gift, as you can tell.”
His grin widens as he steps closer, ruffling my hair on top of my head. “Don’t be silly, Sunshine. You look lovely. Like a windswept motorcycle goddess.”
I knock his hand away, laughing against my will even as something like despair wells up in my chest. I settle my helmet on Betsy’s seat and then turn away from Felix to look at the forested mountainside that sprawls below, blinking my eyes forcefully.
Another item off my list—riding through the park to look at the trees. I even have Betsy back. And yet I still feel restless. I still feel discontented.
I thought I might, but it’s discouraging nonetheless. I’m just starting to think I was right. This feeling I’ve been having is the desire to move forward—not with little things, but big things.Lifethings.
From behind me, Felix speaks, cautious this time. “What—is it not everything you hoped it would be?”
I sigh. “It’s not that.” How do I explain? “It’s just—this bucket list thing has been enlightening in inconvenient ways.”
When he doesn’t answer, I glance over my shoulder to find him looking at me with raised eyebrows.
And I can’t believe I’m telling him these things, but I open my mouth to explain anyway. “I’ve been doing things from my list, right?” I say, turning my body to face him again. “I finally got the pet I’ve been wanting to get forever. I’m going to learn to bake a carrot cake. I’m doing things. But I still don’t feel?—”
“Fulfilled?” Felix says when I break off. “Accomplished?”
I shrug uncomfortably. “Yeah, I guess.” My feet crunch over gravel and dust and dirt as I amble slowly over the ground, aimless. But I don’t want to just stand there and look at him. It’s too intimate, and I’m already feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling.
“That makes sense,” he says. He doesn’t seem as restless as I am; he moves to the picnic table by our parking spot and settles himself easily.
Because his eyes are still on me, I nod. “So I want to move forward with something else I’ve been thinking about. I want to fall in love.” My breath catches in my chest, but I go on. “I want a family of my own. I want to grow old with someone.”
His face, when I sneak a glance at him, has faded into an inscrutable mask. He doesn’t say anything, either, just gestures for me to keep speaking.
So I take a deep breath and look at the mountainside surrounding us. Then I say, “I’ve decided to join a dating site. Maybe two. I don’t know how those things work.”
The prospect of online dating was so motivating before—the knowledge that I had a definitive step I could take toward my goals. But now, looking at Felix, the idea loses some of its shine. I can feel it in the way my heart is sinking, a faint, sad feeling.
A step toward my goals might be a step away from Felix Caine. And that…that hurts a little bit.
