10
RYAN
Yes. It’s as awkward as you think.
The rest of the weekend is a blur of him keeping to himself in the spare room or going out for a jog. I sit with my laptop on a barstool in front of the kitchen counter and prepare myself for the week. Our conversations are a handful of words and then nothing. He asks a question. I answer.
The ice between us is real. The fantasy of whatever I thought might spark up between us again is dead.
I really did fuck things up between us back in senior year of high school.
Shouldn’t I be angry—pissed, even—that Stefan still holds a grudge about that? We were younger and dumber back then.
Of course, maybe I’m being totally self-centered about this. Maybe his demeanor has nothing to do with me, but rather with what happened to him and his career. I would be an idiot not to consider that, since it’s what means the world to him.
I just can’t help but take everything personally lately.
I’m a mess around Stefan Baker.
Monday rolls around, and I’m back at work. Dana flutters by my office, determined to learn everything about the Stefan Baker, but I don’t give in at all, and by Wednesday, she’s given up. My life at home becomes a left-footed tap dance of Stefan and I deciding what we want to eat for dinner, eating, then chilling at either end of the house, separated and not talking. He always looks tired and worn out from his work at Parker’s every day, and I try very hard not to appreciate what that’s doing to his muscles.
Or the way they gleam with sweat when I happen to get home from school before he gets home from his renovation work.
One time, he wore just a tight black tank, and when he came home a little after seven, he had spots of caulk and dirt pasted to his skin, which was slick with sweat. He looked like a construction god, and I enjoyed every second of watching his muscles bulge as he brought in his tools, going from the garage door down the hall to his room. When he went down the hall, my eyes were glued to the ass of his low-hanging jeans. His black tank top was bunched up a bit at his lower back, and I saw his ass crack peeking out from his jeans.
He’s free-balling it again.
I’m the luckiest motherfucker in the world.
That luck, after several days, doesn’t feel so lucky. Especially when Stefan and I aren’t even talking.
On Friday when I get home from work, I find him already at the house on the couch, clean and kicking back, looking as if he’s already freshly showered and relaxed. He turns his head toward me and shoots me a chin-lift. “Hey, man.”
“Hey.” I set my briefcase on the wicker chair by the door, then go for a drink in the kitchen. For some reason, I’m determined to talk to him today. I want more than just our tight-lipped greetings and ten-second small talk. “How was your day?”
“Decent. Parker and I got the whole bathroom gutted, all of the plumbing moved, electrical added—”
“Shit. You weren’t kidding when you said bathroom remodel.”
“Full renovation. Yep.” He throws an arm over the back of the couch, twisting his torso to get a better look at me. “How about you? Save any kids today?”
I reflect on my week. Frederick was sent to my office again on Thursday. I lovingly recall his pouting face and half-lidded eyes. “What can I say?” I mutter dully. “I’m their hero.”
“Have more faith in yourself.” Stefan’s words are just as flat and lackluster as my own, inspiring little faith.
“So is the bathroom renovation almost over?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “Maybe another week. We only get a few hours a day, what with Parker’s job and Lindsey’s needs.”
“Lindsey? Oh, pregnant wife. Right.” I shoot him a tight smile.
Stefan quirks an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Just curious. You wanna get some pizza tonight?”
He’s eyeing me from over the top of the couch, suspicious of something. I catch his strange gaze and return it with one of my own, staring wordlessly at him.
Stefan stands up and comes to the kitchen. “Shouldn’t be too much longer and I’ll be out of here.”
I freeze with my phone in hand, Domino’s number ready to call. “What? You’re leaving?”
“I got enough money to stay at a hotel for a couple weeks,” he explains, his words flat, “and then a nice place should open up on Redhill Avenue. I can head out tonight.”
I blink, the air sucked out of my lungs.
“I don’t want to be a bother anymore,” he goes on. “You got your life. You don’t need the deadweight.”
“You’re not deadweight,” I state at once.
Stefan eyes me, his jaw set and his face blank as stone.
“You don’t have to get a … a damned hotel.” I straighten up my posture, finding a backbone in front of the breathtakingly beautiful shape of Stefan. “You have a free one. Right here. A bed. Food. TV. And … me.”
Stefan’s eyes detach, his gaze drifting to my chest. He looks uncomfortable, yet doesn’t flinch or say anything else.
I feel a stab of doubt. “Do you … Do you not want to stay here? Is it really that unbearable being around me?”
“Nah.” He still doesn’t move, standing there like a big lump of meat. A beautiful big lump of meat. “It’s not, actually.”
I lift an eyebrow. “It’s not?”
He sucks on his tongue and shakes his head, his jaw tightened. “Actually …” His eyes meet mine again. “It’s sort of perfect.”
His words fill my heart up with a warmth I’ve lacked for years. Or maybe it’s the look in his eyes when they meet mine. Deep in them, I feel every good memory between us bursting before me in a thousand vivid colors and emotions.
And then I wrinkle up my face. “Sort of perfect?” I fire back. “Then why the hell are you in such a hurry to get out of here?”
Stefan shrugs, then leans against the counter. “Guess I sort of thought I was a burden on you. I’m not gonna put my friend out just because my life’s over.”
I don’t know where the confidence comes from, but in an instant, I’m my old self, and Stefan is nothing but my thickheaded buddy again. “Your life’s not over, you big drama queen.”
He snorts. “The fuck do you know?” he asks with a little curl to his lips.
“Enough to know that you’re better than this. And you don’t need to feel guilty staying here. You’re fucking welcome to.”
I see a piercing glint of surprise in Stefan’s eyes. He probably didn’t expect this burst of passion from me.
“You can stay here the whole damned month,” I go on. “Fuck what happened between us. We were kids. We’re adults now. And I like …” Shit, this is harder to say than I expected. “I like having you around. Don’t waste your money on a hotel. Whatever’s mine is … is also yours. Stay.”
That one last word—stay—lingers between us for ages. All he does is just lean against that counter with his eyes smoldering me like two cerulean torches.
I lift the phone and give it a wiggle. “Now am I gonna order us Domino’s, or what?”
He smirks appreciatively, then says, “I packed my Xbox.”
I squint at him. “Say what?”
“I know they got two new ones out since we were kids,” he goes on, “but hell, nothing can really beat the classics, am I right?”
Even with the stunned look of what-the-fuck on my face, I know Stefan’s playing it cool with me, not wanting to pour out any more emotion than is absolutely necessary. The years have hardened him even more—his mind and his body.
The old Stefan is still in there, shimmering behind his eyes.
“Hope you’re ready,” I mumble back.
He tilts his head. “For what?”
“Getting your ass kicked at every game all over again.”
Stefan’s face lightens right up. “Hey, when I lose, I lose like a winner. I’m not a bitch.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” I shoot back at him teasingly. “Remind me of that next time you’re a total sore loser after I beat your ass.”
“Ooh, those sound like fighting words to me.”
“You don’t take well to losing,” I remind him, then find my thoughts shifting to a very particular night in our past. “Hell, I remember vividly the soggy cheese puffs you made me eat, you punk.”
His eyes flash with the memory. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. A lopsided smile spills across his face. “You asked for it, daring me like you did. If you dare me, you better be ready to see it through.”
I chuckle through my nostrils, though my face tightens. “If you say so.”
He slaps the counter, then pushes himself off of it as he struts toward the hall. “Order the damned pizza, Caulfield. I’m taking a leak before we commence this gaming marathon we’re gonna have tonight.”
“Careful,” I call out after him. “Paybacks are a bitch.”
“Only if you are one,” he shoots back before the bathroom door shuts, to which I find a smile spreading across my own face.
Stefan’s back.