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He sets my coffee on the counter along with one container of half-and-half and another of Sugar in the Raw.
“Thanks.” I tear the fixings, pour, stir. Mmm. Sweet, creamy, rich perfection. “You’re weird today.”
“I’m always weird.”
“True.” But he’s being extra weird. “You miss karate or something?”
“Aikido.”
“You realize you’re the only person who cares about the difference.”
“It’s my cross to bear.” His voice stays dry.
But the joke still warms me everywhere. Ryan hides his sense of humor from most people.
I get it.
I get that side of him.
I get so much of him.
But, still, my heart wants more. Even if my head knows better.
I take another long sip. There’s something in those baby blues, something hurting him, but he isn’t going to tell me.
He isn’t the sharing feelings type.
Not that I can talk.
My heart is locked up tight. It’s easier that way. Safer.
You can’t fall for guys who pretend they love you if you keep them at arm’s length.
You can’t buy into yet another I’ll change, I promise if you don’t believe in someone in the first place.
And you’ll never, ever suffer the rejection of being someone’s second choice, if you don’t care about being first.
Yes, I’m crazy about Ryan.
Yes, we’re best friends.
We hang out. We run. We mock bad TV and eat dinner and tease each other about how we fix our coffee.
We don’t pour our hearts out.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask.
His gaze goes to the bright blue sky outside the windows then it’s back on me. “I’ll get there.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Maybe later.”
My stomach twists. That’s a no.
I hate that he won’t let me in.
I hate that I don’t get every thought in his head.
