Logan, Kate, and Ángel are on the paved path not too far from our spot under the tree. Logan raises an eyebrow at Bryce, his expression what I could only describe as a shit-eating grin, and I don’t dare glance back at Bryce because my face is already aflame with mortification at being caught.
Ángel pulls me in for a quick hug, whispering a frenzied, “I better get all the details later.” Then he’s gone. Rainbow fringe draped across his shoulders swaying as he walks, I’ve never wanted to cuss my friend out more.
But he’s just saved me in a way. Neither Bryce nor I should have reacted like that in public and the second we try again, I’m sure this thing between us will be like pouring lighter fluid onto a barely banked fire.
“You’re welcome to hang out with us, Rachel.” Logan’s statement pulls my attention away from Ángel’s departing figure and by now Bryce is standing beside his friend, a question in his eyes I’m not sure I can answer.
“I appreciate that but I actually think I’m going to head out. Too much sun. I’ve likely already got a sunburn and I don’t want to add heatstroke to that list as well. But it’s kind of you to offer.”
I can’t meet Bryce’s eyes because if I do my strength will falter. I need to get the hell out of here before I climb him like a tree in front of all of these people.
“I’ll walk you home?” Bryce offers and I give him a sweet smile as he breaks away from his friends to get close to me.
“I don’t want to cut your time short. You haven’t taken a break in a while. Have some fun with your friends and I’ll see you Monday, bright and early at the theater.”
I want to hug him, press my face against his chest and feel his arms wrap around me until all I can sense is him. Nothing else. No one else. So, I turn away instead, making it two steps before he catches my hand and tugs me back to him.
The backs of his fingers brush against my cheek and he leans down to plant a sweet, fleeting kiss against my lips. So tender compared to before.
“That’s what I meant to do for our first kiss.” His words ghost across my lips and I lean into him, eager for more.
But Bryce keeps his head about him and steps back. “I’ll see you Monday.”
Our hands stretch between us as I walk away, until we have no choice but to break the connection and all I can do is nod.
Staring back up at that Tiffany light fixture once I’m in my bedroom again, sweat stuck to my skin and sunburn exasperating the feeling, I imagine that sound he made against my mouth and I squirm.
God, what am I going to do?
* * *
Monday turnsinto Friday when the water pipes give in and rusty liquid in the men’s bathrooms bursts through the tile—corroded metal that’s been ready to blow for a while—and Bryce is forced to call in a team of plumbers. We can’t do any demo while they’re working since they need to check the restrooms and the line at the same time. The last thing we need is one of the rooms flooding.
Still, I email Bryce some of my room ideas, layouts, and places where a tech element can enhance the experience. Everything from a horror movie room, equipped with a remote controlled fog machine, spooky preset sound effects that the room controller can deploy at any time, and the ghostly projections of the dead that came before . . . all the way through a Christmas themed room that should be perfect for the December opener.
I’ve got lists of equipment and the start of clues for different pieces. We want a blend of practical and technological. Magnetic trap doors but also phones to ring at specific times that require information to be spoken into the receiver to work. It’s comprehensive and it’s kept me sane as this thing between us keeps growing larger and larger in my mind.
Even outside of D.C., I can still bury my feelings in work. I’m not quite sure what to make of that fact.
Thankfully, by Friday, Bryce has a way to distract us both from the fact that our hands are tied and setbacks keep happening.
Bryce
Want to go to that antique mall I mentioned?
My heart in my chest, excitement and the slightest pinch of pain—the reminder of past hurts—spreads between my ribs like the insulation foam Bryce picked out for the attic, as soon as we’re good to go again. I should say no. It’s not work related and we haven’t really had time to talk about what happened.
Rather, I’ve been too nervous and he’s been caught up in damage control where the building is concerned. But perhaps antiquing could be a way for us to test the waters, see if we have compatibility besides attraction.
Sounds like a plan. When were you thinking?
Would 30 minutes be too soon?
I’m in town finishing up with the plumber
Seeing your face would go a long way to making the day better.
How am I supposed to keep my cool when he says shit like that? Rushing down the stairs, I flip the deadlock and my hand grips the railing as I careen up the steep stairs.
