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Thank God I stopped before I said that.
After dinner, I throw my attention toward Ryan. It’s easy enough to do. He’s charming tonight, excited to be here with so many influential people. Cal serves drinks and dessert in the living room. Someone’s encouraged him to tell the story of the day the park opened. I’ve heard it a million times, but I love listening. We’re spread around the room, giving him our attention. Derek stands to his right, one hand holding a thick glass tumbler, the other tucked casually in his pocket. It’s a good thing I know Cal’s story by heart because I don’t absorb one word of it tonight. Even without making eye contact, I can feel the weight of Derek’s presence in the room. My body refuses to ignore it. It makes me squirm and fidget. Once, our eyes lock and my thighs clench together. I feel too hot in my sweater, sweltering as he keeps ahold of my gaze for so long it feels like the entire room should take notice. As if we’re behaving indecently in the middle of a classy dinner party.
Eventually—painfully—I force my gaze down to my drink, and then another guest wants to sit on the couch, so Ryan has to scoot closer to me. Our legs brush and there should be a spark, or butterflies, or a low hum of…something. I even look at where we touch, searching for more—like a victim who doesn’t realize the true extent of their wound until they see the blood—but that changes nothing. Sure, my stomach is in knots, but not over Ryan.
At the end of Cal’s story, Derek disappears into the kitchen and returns empty-handed. I watch as he walks over to Ava and bends down to kiss her cheek.
He’s leaving.
I feel panicked by the idea.
Ryan leans close and asks if I’d like another drink.
I shake my head and wait for Derek to turn and walk toward me, to give me a kiss on the cheek just like he did with Ava. My chin even lifts to give him better access, but he doesn’t look in my direction as he says goodbye to Cal and a few others.
Then he’s gone, disappearing down the hallway.
My body sways forward as if physically compelled to follow him.
I feel deflated in his absence.
At the end of the night, Ryan walks Carrie and me back to her apartment. At the door, Carrie heads in, but I linger on the doormat as Ryan thanks me for inviting him. I meet his easy gaze and smile. When he boldly leans in to kiss me, I let him. His lips move on mine and I hold perfectly still as my gut twists. After only a few seconds, I step back and try not to crack into pieces.
What’s wrong with me!?
Ryan just kissed me! I should be jumping for joy!
He laughs and shakes his head, dragging his thumb along his bottom lip.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
I have no response, so I change the subject. “I’m glad you came.”
He toes the concrete between us and tousles his light brown hair. “Yeah, it was really fun. Maybe we could do it again next week? Just you and me? I won’t wear a suit, promise.”
I laugh as a bubble of relief bursts inside of me.
He doesn’t wait for a response, just steps back and dips his head. “See you Monday, Whit.”
Carrie is brushing her teeth when I join her in the bathroom. Without a word, I step behind her and let my face fall in the concave slope between her shoulder blades.
Her comforting presence triggers a slow trickle of embarrassing tears. They’re probably soaking through her dress.
“What’s wrong? Did Ryan do something?”
“It’s not about Ryan.”
“Tell me then.”
“It’s…I…”
She leans down to rinse her mouth, drops her toothbrush into a cup, and turns back to hold me at arm’s length. I’m a mess. I’m glad she’s blocking my reflection in the mirror.
“Derek,” she says knowingly.
The name churns my stomach.
“I hate him.” I say it viciously. Angrily. “What is it about him that I can’t shake? I mean, GOD, I was friends with him for a few months eight years ago! That’s nothing. A blip! Teenage girls have crushes. Unrequited love is not unique!”
“Making your feelings small won’t make them disappear,” she says calmly, as if channeling Oprah.
She’s right, of course. I’ve tried that unsuccessfully for the last eight years.
Derek has always sat heavy in my heart like a jagged piece of shrapnel, the cost of removal always outweighing the pain of letting him stay.
I want to be rid of him once and for all.
“It’s like he’s an addiction I can’t conquer.”
“Maybe you should stop trying to conquer it?”
I’ve been down that road before. I won’t do it a second time.
I’m done talking about this. I need to get it together.
