I scrubbed a hand over my mouth. “I dunno, Ang. That’s not how dating works. It’s all about this game, this power struggle. And Penny doesn’t just play the game. She practically invented it. I’m an anomaly for her, and I know she cares, but I don’t know if she knows how to play it straight.”
“You don’t have to play the game, you know? You don’t have to participate. Just tell her what you want and how you feel and see if she feels the same way.”
“Maybe I will. I’ve just got to be careful.”
“I know,” she said gently. “But you’re not going to break her.”
I only wished I could have believed that were true.
* * *
Penny
It’s cool.
We’re cool.
Everything’s cool.
It was my mantra for the rest of the afternoon at work, like a goddamn record skipping in an anxiety loop in my brain. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known he was going to be busy. I had. He’d told me. I knew. I swear.
It wasn’t me. He just had work to do, that was all. Which meant nothing was wrong and everything was cool and fine and perfect.
My guts twisted up at the lie.
The last two days had been nothing like the two days before the wedding. Those days had been busy with wedding stuff and happy lovey-dovey feelings about Bodie. And then, shit had to go and get all serious.
My mood had vacillated a thousand times in forty-eight hours, going from perfectly content to doomsday in a five-minute span. We’d texted and talked a few times, but he was working, and I was trying to respect that. It was just that my psycho brain wouldn’t comply.
I tried to visualize the wedding. I thought about the sweetness of Bodie’s arms around me, his lips against mine. Pictured him holding my face in my kitchen, telling me it was okay.
Of course, then I thought about what he was doing. I mean, Angie was over there, but I wasn’t allowed to be. I told myself that I’d be a distraction, but then I thought maybe he could use a break. He’d been working so hard, and I missed him. I considered swinging by with donuts or ice cream or some offering. I imagined him being so happy to see me, imagined him ditching work for a bit for kissing and laughing and talking, just so we could be in each other’s arms for a minute, so I could hold onto the feeling of him, to reassure myself that things were fine.
I could just stop by for a minute or two or whatever — I had an hour before my next job — and I smiled to myself, grabbing my bag and blowing out of the shop without a word to anyone, daydreaming about him being so happy to see me that he’d kiss me and ask me to stay.
I wanted to see him. I could make it happen. I would make it happen.
Even though he doesn’t want you to come over.
I nearly skidded to a stop on the sidewalk at the thought.
Fucking Peggy.
With a smile that would make the Grinch cringe, she told me that he didn’t want me there, that he didn’t want to see me. He wanted me to wait until tomorrow because he didn’t care to see me, or maybe he wanted to dump me. Either that or he was seeing someone else. Or just didn’t really like me all that much. He wanted my body, wanted my flesh, not my heart, not my soul.
I took a deep breath as cold panic set in. In the span of five minutes, I’d disregarded what he needed, what he’d asked of me, for my own wants and needs. I’d pushed up against that line, and the shock of the realization hit me with a jolt.
This was everything I’d been trying to avoid, everything I didn’t want.
I’d broken the three-date rule for what had become my favorite dick in the whole world, and this was the price I’d pay. I’d turn into a hot, steaming mess and ruin everything, self-destruct, sabotage my happiness, burn it all down.
But it was too late to go back. The floodgates were open, and the current was too strong to close them again.
Although maybe, just maybe, there was a way to slow things down.
The curse of him giving me what I wanted was that he still wasn’t being honest with me. I had no idea how he really felt, and that fact had me betraying myself and his wishes too. So I’d take a little space to buy a little perspective. It was time to take back an iota of control over myself — the helplessness I felt was overwhelming. It wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t good and happy and easy. It was sticky like flypaper, and I was stuck in it, trapped, immobilized.
I couldn’t deny I cared about Bodie. But maybe, if I took a minute to get myself right, I could come back to him fresh and ready and happy again.
Peggy whispered that I’d never go back because I was afraid. So I kicked her down the stairs and shut the cellar door. And then I picked up my phone, pulled up my messages, and texted Veronica two words.
BEAR TRAP.
15
SAVAGE
Bodie
The worst four words in the English language: Hit me up, Penny.
When she blew me off the next day, I told myself she was just busy.
When she didn’t call me for two days after that, I realized we had a much bigger problem.
My texts had been answered with single words and emojis. My calls had been sent to voice mail, followed by a one-off text that she was working, or out with Veronica or whatever the excuse du jour was. And the result was my absolute frustration.
So I kept busy with work and tried not to think about her. Which was, frankly, impossible.
That connection I’d come to depend on had been severed, and though I wanted to believe that she was just occupied, I knew she was putting space between us, separating from me. Leaving me. And I was alone and isolated and driving myself mad at the thought of losing her.
I tried to problem-solve, picking apart every interaction since the wedding to look for clues. If I’d done something wrong, I could fix it. If there was a way to salvage what we’d had, I would find it. Because I needed her, and I wasn’t ready to walk away. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to.
Three days in, I realized I might not have a choice.
My options were few.
I could try to reach out while attempting not to pressure her, but what with her lack of reciprocation over the last few days, I’d already exhausted that avenue.
I could wait her out, give her space, try not to worry, and hope she came back — this was where I found myself.
Or I could let her go. I could write her off. Close the door. Move on.
But being an honest man, there was no way I could pretend like that was even a remote possibility.
16
BRING A FRIEND
Penny
The shop hummed that afternoon from the dozens of people waiting with Siamese Dream playing over the speakers and the buzzing of tattoo guns in the air.
I should have been happy. I should have been content and smiling and wonderful since I’d gotten everything I asked for in the form of sweet, quiet solitude.