to do while you’re staying in town,” I tell her, not sure if she actually thinks it’s a good thing.
Besides some errant gossip about a bad breakup, I know very little about why Ryan is staying in Fawn Hill. I suppose I could ask her, but she might take it as an intrusion, when we’re really only at the surface level when it comes to knowing each other.
Aside from the fact that I’ve seen her naked. And she basically asked me to kiss her in the bushes during the manhunt party. Or that whenever we’re within fifty feet of each other, I feel this electric tension stringing us together, as if we’re connected by two ends of the same cord.
“So, do you ask all women you meet on sidewalks out for coffee?” She shoots me an arrogant grin, and I think she’s flirting with me.
It’s easier than getting into a deep conversation or asking each other personal questions. I know this game well, the one that’s all charm and innuendo, rather than really getting to know someone. If this is how she wants to play it, I can do that, too.
As it stands, I’m kicking myself for even asking her to sit here with me.
“Only the ones who specifically know nothing about my sober journey but see me coming out of an AA meeting. Really freaks ’em out, ya know? That’s what I’m going for.”
“Shock and awe?”
“Or a sketchy past and a shaky future,” I joke self-deprecatingly. “How about you? Do you always eat half an apple turnover with your best friend’s husband’s little brother?”
Ryan chuckles. “That’s a stretch of an association. Can’t we just say we’re friends? I mean, you have seen me naked.”
My cheeks definitely adopt a deep shade of pink. I’ve always been prone to blushing, and it has always annoyed the shit out of me. Something about it seems … unmanly.
“Fine, friends it is. Then we don’t have to make this weird and call it a date.” I try to keep my voice as humorous as possible.
Although, my cock would beg to differ. He has thought of dating Ryan in a very serious way, for a very long time. Probably from the first moment I saw her in that tight black dress at Keaton and Presley’s rehearsal dinner. Her hair had been a spiky bob back then, and she’d looked so different from all the women I knew.
Like some ethereal, dark angel.
“I’m not dating men right now, anyway.” She says it nonchalantly, but I hear the tension behind it.
I raise an eyebrow. “So, you’re dating women?”
Ryan laughs, and I preen at how I just mixed her choice of words up. “No, although I might have better luck. No, I just mean … I’ve promised myself I won’t get into anything for a year.”
For some reason, that makes me both relieved and irked. “That’s good to hear, considering I’m not in the market for anything either.”
As if she asked, dumb-ass. What the hell am I doing? I basically just told her that I wasn’t interested in her either, as if she said it first and I was saving face.
“Oh, really? And why, may I ask, is that?” She lowers her mouth to the straw, sipping coyly as amusement plays over her features.
I realize that she’s flirting with me, and I could answer with some charming, sly remark, but I choose to tell her the truth.
“When I got sober, there is this recovery rule that says you shouldn’t start a sexual relationship within the first year of working the program. I took that seriously, and then I just extended it. I don’t plan to start anything unless I’m completely serious about someone.”
My answer puts a damper on the genial nature of our conversation, but I live my life owning my truths these days. Secrets keep us sick, that’s what Cookie says.
“How long have you been sober?” she asks quietly, and I know she’s probably been trying to work that question into the conversation for a while now.
“Five years. I got back from rehab shortly before Keaton and Presley got engaged, so I guess you’ll never know crazy-party-animal me.”
Most of me is glad about that. I was a mess as a drunk; sloppy and needy, always trying to be the life of the party even if it meant I’d break a limb. The things I said to women, how I treated them … it was disgraceful. I’m happy Ryan will never have to witness it. Even if she isn’t