“He’s been a perfect gentleman so far.” Well, not perfect, but good enough for government work. “We’re just workout buddies.”
“You think he’s your friend? Sorry to burst your bubble, hon, but he doesn’t bother with women for anything other than the obvious. He’s working for a reward that starts with ‘p’ and ends with ‘ussy.’ Get out while you still can.”
Once again, I wonder where all this barely suppressed rage is coming from. But mostly I’m annoyed. Roxy is talking down to me like I’m some naive country girl who doesn’t know her ass from third base. I’ve met my share of shitty men, thank you very much, and I like to think I can see them coming by now. I’m old enough to make my own decisions and smart enough not to get in over my head. Plus, for once in my life, I want to do something really impractical—like own a convertible in Seattle. I want to say fuck it and just have fun.
“I know he’s a player,” I say, a little more testily than I intended. “I knew that when I started hanging out with him. A guy doesn’t have to be perfect if all I’m after is a casual friend. It’s not like we’re getting married—it’s just nice to have someone to eat with sometimes.”
That’s part of the reason why Hayden can be so refreshing. Neither of us has to be perfect. We don’t even have to act perfect. We aren’t putting on performances or evaluating each other. We can just enjoy the good parts of each other’s personalities and not bother stressing over the bad parts.
At the same time, though, a little voice in my head whispers, Maybe Roxy is right. I can’t help but remember how obviously Hayden was lying when he said that he had female friends. Both the truth and the fact that he lied about it are potential bad signs.
I try to ignore that nagging voice as I finish my point. “I’m not under the delusion that my magic vagina will cure his no-good womanizin’ ways. I just escaped Boyfriend Hell; I won’t go back to see if it’s frozen over since the last time I checked. I’m on a no-man diet until further notice. So if Hayden does try to get into my pants, I’ll tell him he’s barking up the wrong tree, and he can either stay one hundred percent platonic or fuck off.” I look up at Roxy with close attention. “Unless you’re trying to tell me to look out for roofies in my drink?”
“No, no . . . Hayden’s nothing like that.” She drops her cigarette butt and grinds it into a small blackened blotch with the pointed toe of her shoe. “He’s purely small-time. More than bad enough to make you feel sorry for yourself afterward, but not enough for anyone else to feel sorry for you.”
More and more questions are jostling into my head, so I choose one of the least nosy ones. “If he’s so horrible, then why do you live in his building?”
Her fuchsia-painted lips tighten into a line. “I’d already lived here for years when Hayden bought it. The fact that he ended up being my landlord is total coincidence.”
“So move out and find a better place.”
An even harder edge enters the set of her mouth. Pure bitter stubbornness. “Why should I be punished for his B.S.? I was here first, and I’m not going anywhere when I didn’t do anything wrong. It’ll take a lot more than one annoying asshole to push me out of my own home.”
Okay, okay, I think, nodding at her a few times. Defensive much?
My impression of the real Hayden is nothing like what Roxy said when I first moved in. Sure, he’s a horn-dog and he seems kind of immature, but he’s fun, and I can’t deny his eye-candy appeal. I almost giggle when I remember him trying to get into the downward dog position. What harm could there be in just hanging out with him? Is his laid-back playfulness really nothing but a Jekyll-and-Hyde act, lulling me into a false sense of security? Or could Roxy just be overreacting?
When I asked Hayden for the dirt on him and Roxy, he flat-out refused to go into it, which just makes my imagination run wild. Is Roxy the villain of that story, I wonder, or is Hayden? I try to dismiss the thought. Real life is rarely so cut-and-dried.
But my curiosity about what relationship they had is still driving me nuts. Roxy is so insistent that Hayden doesn’t “do” friendships with women, so if they ever were friends, Hayden must have let his lust get in the way somehow.