What did we, as the female population, do to deserve this?
In the oddest way, I feel robbed, like I’m missing out one of life’s greatest experiences because I don’t care if he’s been celibate for one year or eight, I know that man knows what to do between the sheets. There’s not a soul on earth that could watch the way he plays basketball with precision, fluidity, and control then tell me Ryan Shay is bad in bed. You can’t convince me that his kiss was a one-off and it doesn’t translate in other ways.
All those times I gave him shit about being afraid of naked women, turns out I wasn’t far off. He may not be afraid, but he’s avoiding them at all costs.
“Indy, did you hear what I said?”
No, Jason, I didn’t hear what you said because you haven’t stopped talking about yourself all night and I fully tuned out around the time you mentioned you slept with your buddy’s girl on prom night.
“Yep,” I lie. “That’s fascinating.”
“I know, right? She was batshit, wanting me to go with her to her grandma’s funeral, but I told her the day we met, Saturdays are for the boys. If you can’t get on board with that, I don’t want you, you know?”
Jason orders us another round.
“No, I’m good. Thank you.”
“Stop. Have another. You’re drinking so slow. I’m on my fourth one already.”
No shit, and each one makes him more handsy. He won’t stop touching the back of my barstool, my shoulders, and his leg won’t stop pressing into mine. I would scoot further away if I could, but I’d be in the girl’s lap next to me if I did. Honestly, that doesn’t sound half bad at the moment.
“Gin and tonic?” the bartender says to me. “I got you.”
“No, I’m—” My words die when I catch the bartender’s discreet nod of her head.
If I knew I was going to have less than one drink, I would’ve driven myself and left an hour ago.
I’ve never dated before, and if this is what the dating pool has to offer, my future is looking bleak. My first real date. God, it’s tragic.
I’d rather claim the fall banquet with Ryan as my first date, even though it was all pretend.
As Jason continues to spill his entire dating history, I tune him out. The guy clearly loves the sound of his own voice that he doesn’t notice me on my phone instead. I swallowed my pride and texted Rio fifteen minutes ago, but the last thing I heard was that he was working on a ride for me.
I’m aware that if I would’ve called Ryan, he would’ve been here in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t do it. He doesn’t need to know I’m on a date. Either he’s not going to care in the slightest and that’ll hurt my feelings, or he’s going to be upset and that will hurt even more.
Besides, I only downloaded Tinder and swiped right on Jason because he was attractive. Unfortunately, he hasn’t shut up and his personality has made him the least attractive man in the room.
I haven’t had sex since Alex. I haven’t gotten off since Alex and it’s beyond time for it to happen. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old woman who hasn’t had an orgasm in almost eight months and I’m afraid my body will forget how to if I don’t have a release soon. My fingers, toys, none of it has worked. I’m too in my head when I’m alone that I’ve come to the realization I need someone with me.
Of course, Ryan is my first choice. You could say I’ve developed an unhealthy crush on my roommate, which is the last thing I need. I shouldn’t have real feelings for someone else so soon after I was with the man I thought I was going to marry. Right?
I truly thought there was a possibility I might have sex with my basketball star of a fake boyfriend until that morning last week when he dropped the news that he’s celibate.
He’s fucking celibate. I didn’t see that one coming. I knew he was private. I knew he hadn't dated since the woman in college who tried to use him. I knew he didn’t have women over, but I figured it all happened on the road in his hotel room. I assumed he had the women he was with sign NDAs or something drastic like that, but no, he spends every night on the road alone. Just how he spent every night at home before I moved in.
I scroll through the pictures of our text thread—the one of the empty seat next to him at the kitchen island after he made breakfast for only himself while I was out of town. The bouquet of flowers he wanted me to name in the hotel lobby while he was staying in Denver for a game. And then there’s the ones I’ve sent him of my travels—the bookstore I stumbled upon in Columbus. The outdoor basketball court I walked by in Minneapolis.
I’ve looked for any excuse to talk to him this week and I can’t blame it on being lonely. It’s because I truly enjoy talking to him more than I do most other people. I never thought my recluse roommate would become the person I most look forward to seeing, but here we are.
And here, in this crowded bar, I’m lonelier than ever because he’s at home and I miss him.
The bartender sets my drink in front of me. “Cheers!” Jason says, taking a long swig of the whiskey and Coke in his hand before I’ve even lifted mine off the bar top.
Taking a small sip of my drink, I’m pleasantly surprised to find its only sparkling water. The bartender shoots me a wink and I secretly hope she charges him for a double.
“So, what do you say?” Jason asks, his hand sliding onto my thigh.
I pick up his sleeve with my thumb and forefinger, as if he might have a disease, and move him off me. “What do I say about what?”
“What do you say about coming back to my place? It’s a ten-minute walk from here.”
“Actually, I’m going to call it a night.”
“Why?”
“I’m tired.”
He laughs without humor. “Sure, you are. Fine. I get it. We’ll stay here for now.” He takes another swig of his drink, but then his eyes fixate on the door behind me. “Oh my God, that’s—”
His words tune out when I turn around to find Ryan standing in the doorway of Sullivan’s. His angry eyes wander the room, until they soften slightly, landing on me. He takes me in, his shoulders dropping until his attention lands on my knee, and he stiffens again.
Jason’s hand is back, and I didn’t realize.
Ryan’s strides are big and commanding, as if he wasn’t already drawing the attention of the entire room simply by being who he is. I can’t believe he left the apartment, and it’s quickly dawning on me why he typically doesn’t. Every pair of eyes is on him, and the whispers are low but discernible.
“Is that Ryan Shay?”
“Oh my God, it’s Ryan Shay.”
“Quick! Get your phone out!”
His anger is palpable by the time he reaches me, but the controlled venom of his voice is the scariest part. “Get your fucking hands off her.”
I stand, removing Jason’s hand in the act, but also putting my body between Ryan and him.
“Whoa, man.” Jason laughs like the unaware man that he is.
The quick flash of a camera phone reminds me who Ryan is, his reputation, and what’s about to happen if I don’t get him out of this bar.