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“That’s not why.”
“You sure about that, buddy? Because I’m no therapist, but this is what you’d call a classic mid-life crisis. If you were married you’d be getting a divorce—“
“Fuck you,” I say. “That’s not even cool.”
He shrugs and hold his hands up. “Callin’ it like I see it, bro. Everyone else around here just sees you as you are now. But me?” He shakes his head. “I knew you before. I know why you did the things you did and fucked shit up.”
“And it was you who pulled me out of it in sophomore year of college, I know, I know.”
He points his finger at me. “Don’t fuck this up, Ryker. You worked goddamned hard to put the past behind you and start over. Don’t let misplaced nostalgia and the desire to be young again pull you off the rails. Fuck this girl. I mean, literally, fuck her brains out. Get it out of your system. But don’t be naive. Don’t let her innocence and fresh-faced youth lead you astray. It can’t work. Everyone knows this.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Sure. You’re right.”
There’s no sense arguing with Ozzy. Once he takes a position on something he won’t back down. But that’s OK. Aria and I need time to figure this out for ourselves before we make a public announcement. And hey, maybe he’s right. Maybe it all crashes and burns tonight. No harm done.
And if he’s wrong then by the time we do go public we’ll be solid and no one will be able to break us apart.
He leans across my desk, clasps me on the shoulder, and says, “Good talk, brother. It’s the right decision. You wanna come have drinks with me and Tiffany tonight?”
“Who is Tiffany?” I ask.
“Never mind,” he says, standing up and laughing. “Next week it’ll be someone else, so why waste my breath. Have fun drumming,” he adds, walking out of my office.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he says goodbye to the staff and leaves. I love me some Ozzy, but I don’t want to hear his opinions about Aria and me.
I decide to leave early too. But before I go I text her. Just to make sure she’s hasn’t forgotten. Even though I’ve been in the co-op every night this week, she’s been absent. I text her once a day. Just one time to say I hope she had a nice day. And each time she’s texted me back with an answer and asked about mine.
It’s kinda… sweet.
Goddamn, everything about her is sweet.
My fingers flash across my phone as I write, See you at seven. And don’t wear a dress.
It’s delivered. Read. And typing bubbles appear immediately. I hope that’s her excited response and not an oh-shit-I-forgot-to-cancel response.
Yes, I love her youth. I am distracted by her fresh face and innocence. That’s precisely why I’ve decided to take this relationship seriously and super-slow.
We’re gonna get to know each other. We’re gonna bond. We don’t need sex to do that.
Her reply pops up with a ding.
Don’t wear a dress? How will you finger me in the car?
Oh, shit. I think I just got hard.
A winking emoji pops up. Then a bitmoji picture of her avatar pouting with the caption “y tho” over her head.
Bitmojis. I just smile. Because OK, yeah. She makes me feel young again. Everything that’s happened since the moment I first saw her in that board meeting has made me feel alive again.
I text back, You’ll see. Jeans and a t-shirt, please. And then #trustme.
She sends me another bitmoji of her blowing a heart-shaped kiss that says See you soon!
But now I’m hopelessly distracted by the thought of fingering her in the car.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN – ARIA
First of all, he picks me up in a limo. A limo. Not the company car with a driver. Which is also swanky and cool, but not nearly as romantic as a limo. That’s my first clue that this is gonna be a very different kind of date than the first time at the Corinthian.
The second clue is that he brings me flowers. Actually, a single red rose. Long-stemmed and already in a crystal bud vase.
“First time,” I tell him as he smiles at my reaction. “First time a man has brought me flowers.”
I don’t tell him that Larry picked me some daisies at summer camp two years ago because Larry didn’t even get his skinny little dick inside me so he loses all chances at any firsts forever.
Ryker smiles and nods. Not even one lewd comment about how he’s gonna take all my firsts. And then I picture giving him my first blow job. Because we haven’t gotten there yet and I’m wondering if tonight is the night.
So then we go downstairs and get in the limo and I have no idea where we’re going, but I’m pretty disappointed that his fingers aren’t inside me. But of course, I’m wearing jeans so that’s a whole production I knew we weren’t going to deal with.
