No words came out. My throat was jammed shut.
“Valerie said you’d planned two weeks off work. You stay here for that time, work with me on this project. Help us out with ideas on design and decoration and such-like.” He looked about the room. “In return, I’ll teach you about building. So when you go back to Seattle and eventually buy your property you’ll know the basics. During that time, we’ll put each other to the test, see if we can’t push each other out of our comfort zones. What do you say?”
“What, so we take turns daring each other to say yes or no?”
“Yeah, basically.”
Holy shit, he was serious. As serious as serious could get. Could I do that? Be that brave? Everything inside me squirmed, saying no, probably not. After all, I’d be effectively putting myself into his hands, but then, he’d also be putting himself into mine. I could easily get it wrong and hurt him. Fuck up his life. God knows I’d failed before. No way was believing in me a safe bet for him.
“What happens if we can’t break our learned behavior and step out of our comfort zones?”
He put his hands on his waist, lips pressed tight together. “Unending shame. Shit like that. I don’t know, we’ll make it up as we go along.”
The man made me curious, that much was for sure. About him, the things we could do together, his life here, everything. Deep, deep down in the subcockles of my soul, I’d regret it if I went home too soon and failed to figure out what might be happening between us. If anything was happening between us. Who the fuck knew?
“Alex,” he said. “Come on. Try.”
Shit.
“If this whole psychic-stripper ordeal has shown me anything, it’s that we’ve both got stuff that needs sorting. So let’s do that,” he said. “If it doesn’t work, in a week and a half you go your way and I’ll go mine. We’ll be friends at a distance again.”
I nodded, taking the leap. “All right. I’ll stay on at the hotel for a while longer. See how it goes.”
For some stupid reason, the relief on his face nearly brought me to tears. Probably all of the dust in the room.
“Clean slate. We’re starting over.” Carefully, he brushed the dust from my face, gently tracing his fingertips over my forehead and cheeks, the line of my nose. “Agreed, friend?”
I could run. I could hide. Do the usual. Stick to my bad habits. Or I could stay and try to break down some more walls. Feel more of the rush of excitement and satisfaction.
“Okay, friend,” I said. “Agreed.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Message sent five weeks ago:
ME:
Hi Eric,
It kind of amazes me every time you talk about all of your friends. There’s so many of them! I’ve really just always only had Val. We’ve been best friends for about as long as I can remember. I guess I’m a keep your circle small kind of person. Relationships wise, I’ve dated a fair amount, but there haven’t been many I’d describe as long term. Maybe I’m just picky. I don’t know. What about you?
A xx
Message received:
Alex,
Nothing wrong with being picky. I pretty much still live in the same area I grew up, knowing most people is just the norm. I either went to school with them or met them somewhere else along the way. But I love living in CdA, can’t imagine being anywhere else. One major relationship with a girl I was on and off with during high school and then for quite a while after. I was willing to settle down, but she wasn’t. Hell, we probably were too young. She was best friends with Nell so part of our group for a long time. Last I heard, she was living down in the south-west somewhere. That’s the only relationship I’d say got really serious.
xx
People scared me and relationships terrified me. That was the truth. Also, no was way better than yes. Yes sucked.
Despite these facts, for hours my ass remained stuck to a barstool as promised. Joe had asked me to say yes to a night of hanging out at the Dive Bar while he worked. Confront my whole dislike of crowds, public places, and socializing in general. The first step in our agreement. I’d yet to decide what act of no-ness Joe would be required to do in return. I needed more information to move carefully but with effect.
“For you.” Eric set a small plate down on the bar in front of me, throwing in a fancy hand flourish, like a magician’s assistant.
“What are these?” I asked, eyeing Nell’s latest offering.
“Crumbed goat’s balls.”
I just looked at him.
“Crumbed goat’s cheese balls.” He winced. Drama skills–wise, the man wouldn’t be up for an Oscar anytime soon. “My bad. Forgot to throw in the cheese there in the middle.”
“Funny,” I said flatly, popping one of the warm entrées into my mouth. Creamy amazing mind-blowing goodness. “Wow. Yum.”
A hand neared the plate, fingers making to grab one of my goodies. No way. I gave it a solid slap. “Mine.”
“Sharing is caring,” said Eric, rubbing the back of his hand.
“Well, there’s your problem right there.”
“Harsh.”
I popped another cheese ball into my mouth. Food as art. Ecstasy.
Bartender Eric got busy doing things with bottles and glasses. Down at the other end of the bar, Joe busily filled an order for Rosie, one of the waitresses. Nice woman. She’d apparently been hitched for a few years and showed me pictures of her kids earlier. They were cute. They had the same curly hair and gorgeous dark-colored skin as their mother. I’d never given babies much thought. Considering the lack of serious relationships in my past, it wasn’t really an issue. Eventually the hormones would probably start screaming. I’d decide then whether to ignore them or not. Single parenthood, adoption, getting a kitten from the Humane Society. I had options.
By nine o’clock, the dinner rush at the Dive Bar was over. Work had slowed down. I’d chatted with Lydia for a while. Hung out for a bit with Nell. I’d people-watched, head-bopping to the music. Mostly it was alternative and rock-and-roll. The odd bit of pop. No epic love songs, thank God. By midnight, customers were getting thin on the floor.
“You’re looking better,” Eric said.
“I’m feeling better.”
“Heading back to Seattle soon?” He poured sugar and lemon juice into a cocktail shaker. A measure of whisky. “Guess you got work to get back to.”
“Actually, I’m on a couple of weeks’ break.”
Like I’d told Joe, I could still see what had drawn me to Eric’s picture on the website. But I could no longer feel the magic. Today he matched a chambray button-down with black trousers and boots. All of it very nice and yet I remained unaffected. Attraction was a funny thing. What did or didn’t draw you to a person. I’d thought the neat, hipster-styling Calvin Klein underwear model was my type. How deluded I was. Joe in his black boots, worn blue jeans, and Dive Bar tee now drew my gaze.