“Ha! Like there’s any another type of emergency involving you,” Juls laughs.
“Sorry. Really, really sorry about that. My mom knows about Reese and I’m trying to avoid her at all costs.” I exhale forcefully. “You know how she is.” I decide to keep the ‘Reese telling my parents that he’s my boyfriend’ news to myself. I would never hear the end of it.
“Oh, yikes,” he states. “Actually, that reminds me.” He quickly combs through his hair. “You remember how Billy thought it was hilarious that you thought Reese was married?” I nod as Juls moves next to me and faces Joey, her arms crossing over her chest. “Well, I thought that was weird. I mean, why is that so fucking funny? He’s gorgeous. He could have been married.”
“Joey, is there a point to this?” I ask
He huffs in annoyance. “Yes. I asked Billy about it and he said Reese is completely against getting serious with a girl. He won’t do it.” My stomach rolls. “When they start getting clingy, he moves on to the next one.”
“Joey, that’s enough,” Juls says.
I blow my breath out. “It’s fine. I figured as much.” But I wasn’t expecting it to hurt this bad to hear it out loud. Shit. I feel like my heart has been shoved into a vice.
He moves closer to me and grabs my hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “Dylan, I’m sorry. I just, I don’t want to see you to get hurt.” He squeezes me gently. “I like Reese, I really do, and I like him for you, but I don’t know if he’ll ever want you for more than just sex.”
Juls steps in between us and grabs my shoulders. “Don’t listen to him, Dylan. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I don’t care how many girls are lining up for him. He only sees you.” She speaks softly, her hands applying light pressure to my tense shoulders. He is currently only seeing me; I want to correct her. But I don’t. I manage to paint on my most convincing I’m not affected by this face and smile.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. I wasn’t expecting this to become a fucking relationship or anything more than what it is so, whatever; I’m fine.” Juls studies me closely as Joey manages half a smile. “Anyway, where are we headed tonight to celebrate?” My change of topic catches on and they both start rattling off names of bars. “You two discuss it. I have some work to do.”
My stomach churns as I walk past my friends and into the kitchen. Images of hundreds of women walking into Reese’s office, closing the door behind them, and then re-emerging moments later looking rightly fucked pour through my head. How many girls have blown him in that office? How many has he fucked against that door? The thought of Reese screwing anybody besides me makes me instantly queasy. “God, what the fuck am I doing with this guy?” I say to myself as I check on the cake.
Juls pops her head through the doorway. “Six p.m. at The Tavern, sweets. Love you.” She waves with her blinged out hand and I giggle.
“Love you,” I reply with genuine enthusiasm just as my phone begins to ring. Reese’s name flashes across my screen and I hit decline. I can’t talk to him right now. I have work to do and staying busy is my best defense at keeping my mind off him. Walking over to the shelf, I grab the ingredients I need for the chocolate peppermint frosting and place them on the worktop. I reach for my mixer next as my phone rings through the kitchen. Leaning across the worktop, I see his name again and huff loudly as I press decline. “No,” I state firmly. Perching myself up on a stool, I begin rifling through my recipes. I really need to organize these better. And rewrite some of them. My grandmother’s chicken scratch handwriting is beginning to rub off and most are borderline illegible. Hearing the text message alert on my phone, I wipe my hands on the front of my apron and reach for it.
Reese: Are you ignoring me?
No, Mr. Persistent, I’m just putting some distance between you and my heart. The sound of the song, which Joey has apparently put on repeat, seeps into the kitchen and I soften. A song reminds him of me. A song that I need to remember to look up the lyrics to. My thumbs get to work.
Me: No, just really busy. Juls stopped in and showed off her massive engagement ring and now I’m behind on some baking. What’s up?
I press send, pleased with myself for not berating him with questions about previous lovers and office sex romps. I’m about to place my phone down when his name flashes on my screen with an incoming call. Damn it. I can’t just ignore him again; he knows I’m not too busy to text. I swipe the screen.
“Not feeling the text messaging today?” I ask through a smile that I inwardly curse myself for having. He hasn’t even spoken yet and I’m glowing.