“Ricky,” I said breathlessly when he pulled away. “What are we doing? Am I your girlfriend?”
The haze of lust whipped away like a curtain being yanked open. This close, I could see Ricky’s eyes flood with panic, his body still blocking the light from the street around me. It was the same look he’d given me on the day we met, except this time he was so much more to me than a quirky, handsome stranger.
“Oh,” he said, suddenly at a loss. He rolled his lips into his mouth, and then took a step back.
Shit. This had not been part of the plan. I’d asked mostly as a technicality, as a way to soothe my own insecurities. Ricky was supposed to laugh and say, “Of course, Angie, duh,” and tease me for thinking I was anything but. Right now, I was supposed to feel validated, then a little sheepish that I’d sought validation in the first place. We were supposed to wander around the city until it was unreasonably late, maybe stop at a bar just to stretch the night out even longer, and at the end he was supposed to ask if I wanted to come over. I was supposed to say yes, but only after some gentle cajoling, and when we got to his place let him get a peek at the matching underwear I’d specifically picked out for tonight—
But clearly, I was an idiot. How much of what we had was in my imagination? Here I was, tossing around the concept of being in love with him, and Ricky wasn’t even sure if I was deserving of a label that didn’t require that.
“Say something,” I demanded, feeling like I was about to break.
Ricky ducked his head, and the queasiness I’d felt before became outright nausea.
“I . . . ,” he said. “I don’t know.”
I should have known. How many times did I have to get hurt before I would finally learn? True love, the kind that Ricky’s grandparents had for each other, that my dad had for my mom, that Tabatha had for Chris—wasn’t in my cards. I was the Angela Appiah Experience, a nice ride, a fun time. The girl who taught you something about yourself, who you looked back on fondly while you cuddled up with the woman you decided to actually love in the end.
I stepped back onto the sidewalk. I couldn’t look at Ricky, so I stared past him, watching a group of laughing twenty-somethings exit a restaurant across the street.
“I think I should go,” I said. I reached into my purse for my phone.
“Wait,” Ricky said, placing a hand on my arm to stop me. “No. Don’t run off. Let’s talk about this, yeah?”
I shrugged his hand off. The tears I had successfully bit back stung my eyes.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, punching my address into the rideshare app. “I hear you loud and clear. You’re not ready to be my boyfriend, or whatever. Fine. I don’t plan on sticking around to change your mind.”
Ricky staggered back like he’d been slapped.
“What do you mean, you don’t plan on sticking around?” he said. “Are you trying to dump me?”
“How can I dump you if we’re not together?” I asked, amazed. “We’ve been doing this . . . thing for months, Ricky. I introduced you to my sister.” I closed my eyes. Be careful, Tabatha had said. Wise beyond her years, that one. “None of this has been casual for me. And if it is for you, then there’s no point keeping up this charade, is there?”
“None of this has been casual for me either, Angie, and you know that,” Ricky said seriously. He shoved his hands into his pockets, staring out onto the street. “I really like you. I just . . . I was someone’s boyfriend for three years. I don’t know if I’m ready to be that again just yet.”
The breeze blew by, cooler than I expected, and I shuddered. It was already late September. To think that Ricky had occupied a space in my mind for an entire season.
“You can’t do relationship shit with me and then tell me you’re not ready for a relationship. If you aren’t ready now . . .” I swallowed, thinking about how, for someone else, for everyone else, he had been ready. And how for me, this meant he would never be. “I’m sure about you,” I choked, surprised by how hard it was to admit that out loud. “It really sucks that you don’t feel the same about me.”
“That isn’t fair, Angie,” Ricky said, his voice low. “It’s just too early for me to be sure. That doesn’t change how I feel about you.” He pushed his hand through his hair, looking away from me. “It just means I need a little more time.”
Time. I thought about Nia, and how she and Shae had jumped in headfirst within weeks of meeting. Of Michelle, who could get a man to practically pledge fealty to her after a day. And then of Ricky, of how countless hours of laughter and discussion and kisses and what had felt like deep, true regard had still come up short.