When I paused, she gingerly set down her glass. “Let’s forget for a moment that you’re on friend probation for not telling me this until now.” RJ stood, stretching her legs, and walked toward the kitchen, snatching my glass along with hers to refill them.
While I waited, I toggled back to the text exchange with Wes, knowing nothing had come in but looking anyway.
RJ returned with the wine. “Well, I’m here and we have wine. What conversation do you want to have?”
“What if we have no conversations and just drink more?”
She ignored my question. “Obviously, I want to know about the guy—and I know you’re checking your messages from him right now—but do you want to talk about him and what it means for work, or work and what it means for him?”
“What’s the difference?”
RJ eyed me over her glass before setting it aside. “The difference is which comes first.” With me, her intense gaze never lasted long, and she softened. I never wanted to face it in a courtroom, though. “What does he look like, anyway?” She held out her hand. I set my phone in her palm, Wes’s photo on the screen, and her eyebrows lifted. “Well, nothing wrong with him. If I keep scrolling, will I get to the nudes?”
I laughed and snatched it back. “Be serious.”
“Okay. Okay. He’s hot, but if he doesn’t want to be with you, he’s not worth it, and I can’t abide you falling for someone unworthy again.” RJ had hated Ben from day one.
“He’s not unworthy. He has a lot going on. His mom is sick, and he runs the company,” I said.
I was met with another raised eyebrow. “And he doesn’t know who you are?”
“I know that’s a problem we have to face, and I let things get way out of hand, but hanging out with him is . . . I don’t know. It’s affirming. He’s a good coach and so much fun to be around. I never would have started this running stuff on my own without his encouragement.” Also, he gives great massages and kisses like it’s a superpower and his smile warms me up. Plus, I’m sure he’d give my favorite vibrator a run for its money. “So even though we’re back to being just friends, I don’t know what to do.”
RJ nodded thoughtfully, weighing out the story. “It sounds like this boils down to your job or him. Can you keep both?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know how. Also, I can’t keep him because I don’t have him.”
“Okay. So, it’s keep the job you have or prioritize the guy you don’t.”
“Seems like an easy decision when you put it that way.”
RJ shrugged and sipped her wine. “To me, it does, but I’ll always pick the job over the guy, so I’m biased.”
“And he doesn’t want to be with me,” I reasoned. I glanced at my screen again, where the lack of notifications was impossible to ignore. “Maybe I just need to get back on track and focus on my writing. We’re not hanging out outside of the gym at all anymore. It’s like this detour never happened and we’re just back to the training program.”
“No more unworthy men,” RJ added, finishing her wine with a firm nod.
“No more,” I echoed.
44
Britta: Stop texting me, then
I scrolled back up to the photo she’d sent and simmered. She was wearing makeup. I’d never seen her dressed up before because we were always working out. The dress hugged her curves like it was custom-made for her, and I traced a fingertip down the line of her body in the photo. She looked amazing, and all of it was for this other guy. I thought back to Calvin saying he supposed he’d missed his shot. I’d done the same.
I had no business staring at this photo when I couldn’t date her. I was the one who’d pushed her away . . . and what had possessed me to go out with Kelsey, of all people?
Because I need to shake Britta out of my system and remind myself nothing can happen with her.
I tapped out a smart-aleck response to Britta but set my phone down as Kelsey approached the bar.
“Wes,” she said, her voice breathy. She leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I inhaled the scent of her perfume. It had been a cheap knockoff back then, but maybe this was the real thing. Either way, the scent brought back hundreds of memories.
She took the seat next to me at the bar and ordered a vodka tonic with lime. She had drunk beer when we were together, extra hoppy IPAs that made my toes curl.
“I was glad you texted.” She dragged her hand over my forearm, tracing her fingertips along a vein. When we broke up, I had dreams about feeling her fingertips on me like that, but now it just tickled in a vaguely unpleasant way.