He was quiet a moment, pulling his arm away as he replied, “I know. It’s difficult to explain. There’s a part of me that’s terrified of jeopardizing what we have. You’ve come to mean so much to me in just a short time. Obviously, I don’t want to risk our friendship—or cheapen it.” I read between the lines there. That some type of friends-with-benefits arrangement would not be in the cards. “But it’s more than that.”
“Okay.” I gave him an encouraging glance.
“I wish I could explain this better, but it’s like, from the first moment I met you, you’ve been open and honest with me. That day, you were sitting at your desk with tears on your face. You didn’t try to hide them from me or make excuses. And then you joked around and mademefeel better.” He blew out a forceful breath. “What’s holding me back from taking anything you’re willing to offer is that I don’t want to disappoint you. I’ve spent my whole adult life trying to prove myself, to create a version of me that people like—with mixed results, I guess—and that’s meant putting up a front.” He placed his elbows on the table, one fist resting inside the other palm, words spilling out tight and fast. “I don’t want to hesitate or wonder if I’m doing the wrong thing with you because you haven’t met my darker, sadder sides. I owe you the openness you’ve shown me, and—”
“Hey James?” I interjected. I knew what he was saying, and what it was costing him.
“Yeah?”
“It’s okay.” I reached across to grasp his clenched fist, re-joining our fingers together on the table. “It’s okay.”
Something had clearly hurt him—badly—and he was recovering, figuring out how to be vulnerable.
“What’s okay?”
“It’s okay that you don’t have it all sorted out. That you don’t feel ready. Or that I don’t. We’re good right now. It’s enough to know we’re on the same page, that we’re not going to pretend the attraction isn’t there. We can decide the rest as we go. Take steps. One thing at a time.”
He smiled. “Your life philosophy.”
“I suppose. We’ve got lots of things taking up our mental energy right now. You with your reunion and the school budget. Me with moving the last of my mom’s things. Not to mention Christmas.” Also, there was Kasen’s potential re-entry into my life, but no need to burden James with that. “Maybe let’s just…keep getting to know each other.”
He nodded. Katy reappeared to bring us the drinks and take our dinner orders. Burger for me, pasta for him.
After our food arrived, we moved on to safer topics of discussion, student shenanigans and school activities.
“It feels weird saying we’re still just friends now,” he said.
“We don’t need to put a label on it. It’s no one’s business but ours. No matter how much Coach and Mrs. Allen want to stick their noses in.”
“Don’t forget about old Mr. Bailey. He’s probably put twenty down on us, too.”
“Small towns.” I shrugged. “We can just do what makes sense to us. Think of it as our own, uniquesituationship, or whatever the cool kids call it these days.”
He chortled. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”
Over dinner, I noticed we were slightly more tactile than we’d been previously, brushing hands across the table, resting our ankles together underneath. We couldn’t completely turn off the physical pull we’d admitted to. There had to be some allowances made for the fact that our friendship had evolved.
Still, when James walked me out to my car afterwards, he hugged me quickly, maintaining some boundaries, at least for now.
Achieving a sense of clarity with him reminded me how much I hated loose ends and inconsistent pathways. I liked things neat, not messy and open-ended.
Which is why I texted Kasen.
ME:We don’t have to be strangers anymore. I think I’m okay with that now. What did you want to talk about?
Chapter eight
James
Forthenextweek,Marley and I made a concerted effort to get our groove back. I knew she was waiting for me to talk more about my past, and I planned to, but first I wanted to confirm that we were on solid footing.
My biggest challenge in navigating oursituationshipwas the internal struggle happening in my head. Besides the mental energy involved in psyching myself up to tell Marley about my ex, my failed business, and why I didn’t want to see anyone from high school, knowing she wanted me physically had stoked other doubts. I hadn’t stopped to worry about them when I’d let my dick take the lead on her couch, but now those thoughts ran wild. Would she still want me when she saw my naked belly in all its glory? Did she care that I hadn’t been to a real gym since I’d left Seattle? I’d never thought about waxing my ass before, but I seriously considered it now.
Battles in my head notwithstanding, our easy familiarity seemed to have returned. We spent our break and lunch periods together and had taken the dogs to the park several times since our conversation at The Landslide.
Principal Nadal’s response to finding out we’d be out of town for the holiday dance to attend my reunion had been to assign us most of the pre-event grunt work. Until the Friday we left, we’d be staying after school every day with the student council to supervise plans for turning the gym into a winter wonderland.
Since Thanksgiving, the students had done a great job making the school look festive. Artificial trees lit up the common areas and paper ring chains hung from hallway ceilings. The finishing touch—and most anticipated piece—of the school’s holiday aesthetic would be the doors to the classrooms.
