Page 35 of Saved from Deception

I pull away even as my body is screaming at me not to do it. Charlie’s eyes flicker with something—disappointment?—but she immediately covers it up and smiles at me.

“Of course I can teach you.” Then she swims back to the boat, climbing up the ladder as water cascades down her luscious curves and toned limbs, and she calls back to me, “Are you coming? I’ll show you how to do the front flip first.”

Sometimes I really hate being responsible.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHARLIE

I can’t stop thinking about that almost-kiss.

At least, I think it was almost a kiss. I know I wanted to kiss him.

Unless I’m wrong about the way Rylan looked at me. But I couldn’t be.

How could I mistake the way his eyes devoured me, holding my gaze, drifting down to my lips and lingering there. I can’t be wrong about how tenderly he moved my hair from my face, how his pupils dilated as he touched my skin.

But then he pulled away and for the rest of the day, we were back to just friends. And although it was disappointing, I can’t exactly complain about it. Just because I had to look at Rylan’s amazing body with all those muscles and broad shoulders and his abs and do nothing about it…

I had to look at his tanned skin all wet and gleaming bronze, his strong legs flexing as he dove into the water, and remind myself, we’re just friends.

If he wanted more, he would have done something when he had the chance. Right?

Yes, I could make the first move; find out if this attraction I’m feeling is one-sided or not. But he very clearly said that we’re friends. And if I make a move and he rebuffs it, I don’t know if I can handle the rejection. Not on top of everything else.

And then to imagine living with Rylan, him feeling sorry for me after gently turning me down? Augh. The humiliation. I can’t stand the thought of it.

So I’m settling into the friend zone lane, but still secretly hoping Rylan will do something to pull me into the dating one. Which is kind of a strange metaphor, but I’ve been playing a lot of Grand Theft Auto lately.

Which is what brings me to my current mission. It’s Operation Do Something Nice for Rylan. Yes, he’s paid to be here, and he’s my friend, but Rylan has gone above and beyond for me. Buying new video games, taking me to the park every day, pretending to like that awful spring water, and then yesterday, taking me to Lake George. And I know that wasn’t cheap.

It’s not that I think Rylan expects anything, and I think he’d be mad if I bought him a gift—not that I have much money for gifts since I’m unemployed—but I still want to do something for him. So I was trying to think of ideas while I was taking a shower this morning, but it’s tough when I can’t spend money or take him somewhere to surprise him.

Cook him a meal? It’s not bad, but I’ve cooked plenty of times for Rylan and Leo. And I can’t exactly prepare a romantic meal for a friend.

Make him something? I’m not crafty, so unless Rylan wants a carefully drafted legal document, I’m out of luck with that one.

But then I remembered—all my old video games.

I still have all the consoles from when I was a kid, plus dozens of games to go with them. A few days ago, I was reminiscing about some of my old favorites, and Rylan said he had never tried most of them. He said how he wanted to, but money was tight growing up, and he had to help his dad in the shop a lot, so there was never the time or money for video games.

Maybe it’s a crap idea, but I’m thinking it could be fun to have a big game-fest tonight. I can make a pizza, hook up the old consoles, and decide whether the classic games were better than the new ones. And if it’s a flop, at least I’ll have tried. Right?

As soon as Rylan headed off to the gym, I dragged Leo down to my storage unit in the basement and loaded him up with three different game consoles and about fifty games. He just stood there with a little smile while I piled everything in his massive arms and asked, “What’s wrong with board games?”

I’m glad to finally pull this stuff out of storage, at least. I’ve been lugging it around from apartment to apartment, telling myself I should throw it out but I can’t bring myself to do it. But after my parents threatened to throw it all away once I graduated from college, I have a bit of an attachment to it.

About a week after I informed my parents that I was going to law school instead of joining their real estate company, my mother called and coolly told me, “Since you’ve decided to prove your independence, I’m sure you’ll be wanting to collect all your belongings from the house. You have a week, then they’re going in the garbage.”

I hope Rylan doesn’t think this is stupid. Now that I’m actually doing it, I’m kind of worried. It’s a little childish, and we are both adults. There has to be a better idea than old video games. But all the things I’d really like to do for Rylan are the things you’d do for a boyfriend, not a friend.

Like romantic dinners, or the newest game system. A trip to Boston so he can see the Red Sox play, even though I’m a die-hard Yankees fan. When he told me that he liked the Red Sox, I mimed a heart attack, gasping, “How could you? And you call yourself a New Yorker.”

I’d see the Red Sox for Rylan. That’s how much I like him.

I’m setting up the consoles by the TV when my phone rings, and my stomach immediately flips over. It’s not even nine A.M. yet, so I know Erin isn’t calling, and there isn’t anyone else I want to talk to. For a second, I contemplate ignoring it, but I sent out a new round of resumes so there’s a slim possibility—very slim—that someone could be calling about a job.

More likely, it’s someone calling to insult me. Even though I got a new number last week, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before it gets posted online. Again.

---