“Why not, sweetie? I mean, if Ryan makes you feel safe enough to be alone with him, why is it so wrong to feel something for him, if for only that?”
“Because . . . he can’t even touch me without me constantly freezing up and being scared. I feel so pathetic and weak, and I hate it. I hate that I feel like this—every day. I try so hard, Jase.” I feel myself cracking as I cry and continue to say, “Every day I do everything I can just to hold myself together, and when I think I’m finally getting past this, something happens, and I am reminded just how weak I am. And I don’t know what to do. I just wish I knew what to do, but I don’t.” Jase pulls me into his arms as I cry harder, and he just holds me. “I just want to move on, I want to feel like I used to. I mean, it’s been three months of hell. I just want to go back. I should have never gone to that party. All I want is to forget. Just forget everything.”
“Three months isn’t enough, sweetie. It’s just not enough. No amount of time will ever be enough for you to forget, for you to go back completely.” Jase pulls back to look at me, and I can’t stop myself from apologizing. Shaking his head at me, he gives me a smile, and suddenly I feel a little stupid for my tears. I know he is trying to cheer me up and lighten the mood when he teases me by saying, “So, Ryan has a thing for my girl.”
“Shut up,” I tease back.
“Seriously though, I want to see you happy. And if hanging out with Ryan makes you happy, then you shouldn’t question it. Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness.”
Cupping my face with his hands, he gives me a kiss. Hopping off the couch, he pulls me up and starts walking to his room.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Sleeping. I’m so tired, and I’ve missed you.”
“But I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”
Jase starts getting ready for bed when he says, “Skip.”
I stand there and laugh at him, but I comply because I’ve missed him too.
?????
This week has gone by really fast. I did wind up skipping my morning classes on Monday to spend time with Jase instead. Aside from that, I have been really busy with the quarter coming to an end shortly. Ryan has been texting me throughout the week, and we went running again Thursday morning. We decided to make it a routine to run together on Thursday mornings before I go to school.
Yesterday, he had some free time before he had to go to the bar, so we met up for an early dinner at a sushi-go-round restaurant near my house. While we were eating, we made plans to go running again when I get off work today. So, I am quickly finishing up my end-of-shift routine so I can change before he gets here.
It’s been a busy morning today, and I haven’t had much time to stand around and think, which is good because I feel like I have been thinking too much lately. Jase told me to relax a bit, and that’s what I am trying to do. I’m texting and hanging out with Ryan the way I would with any friend. But I’d be lying if I said that there wasn’t something about him that intrigues me. Lately, I’ve been having that fluttering feeling in my stomach when he’s around. I haven’t had a relationship with a guy since high school, and I’m not sure that one even qualified.
I don’t feel right even thinking about this. How can I? Plus, who would even want me if they even knew who I really was? I’m still a mess, and that damn bell above the front door reminds me of it every time someone opens it.
Jase brought up calling the detective the other day. He has never mentioned it before, but he said he never wanted to because he knew I wasn’t ready. I’m not sure why he thinks I’m ready now. I’m not. I don’t want to be. All I want is to lock that horrific memory up and burn it to ashes, not be forced to relive it over and over for others to hear. I told Jase to drop it, told him it would never happen, so he didn’t say another word about it.
“Hey Roxy, I’m gonna go to the back to restock a few things before I leave, okay?”
“Yeah, thanks,” she says over the hissing of the steamer.
I grab a box cutter and start opening boxes of flavored syrups and stocking the shelves. When I move on to the sugar boxes, I see Roxy come through the door with a huge smile on her face.
“So, that hot-ass guy is back and asking for you.”
Sitting on the floor, surrounded by scraps of cardboard boxes, I say, “His name is Ryan.”
“Well then, that hot-ass guy, Ryan, is here for you,” she says teasingly with her hands on her hips.
“Thanks. Can you tell him to give me ten minutes?”
“You guys have a date or something?”
Standing up, I say, “What? No! He’s just a friend.”
“Mmm hmm.” Roxy turns on her heel to walk back out to the front, and I pick up my bag and go to the bathroom to change into my running clothes.
When I walk out, Ryan is chatting with Roxy. He looks up at me as I’m walking over to him and says, “Hey.”
“What are you guys talking about?”
“Your friend, Ryan, was asking about my tattoos.” I silently thank her for leaving out the hot-ass part.
Ryan takes a step towards me and asks, “You ready?”