Page 43 of Rewind It Back

Something strange happens in my stomach at that. Good God, are those butterflies? No, no they’re not because there’s no way I could feel any sort of excitement around this man again. I’m simply mistaken because it’s been so long since I’ve felt butterflies. Six years to be exact.

He stretches his hand out again for me to shake. “So, what do you say? For the sake of my house and your job, should we try to be friends?”

Friends.I could laugh. Seems an impossible stretch from where we are now.

This time it’s me eyeing his outstretched hand. Slowly, I put my palm in his again, and contrary to the last, this handshake is quick and friendly.

“Friends,” I agree.

Feels wrong. Tastes like a lie.

“So, what’s next for us?” he asks.

What’s next for us?

“With the house, I mean.”

Oh.

“Well, we do need to retry that meeting from today. I had some important things I needed to go over with you. And”—I look towards his place—“I’ll need to do a walk-through of the house soon.”

He quickly nods. “You want to see the house. My house.”

I chuckle. “That is how this works, after all.”

“I don’t have a game on Wednesday or Thursday night, so one of those evenings would work.”

Tina’s reminder rings in my mind about me having to be flexible for this particular client. The problem is, I don’t have the consistent income to be flexible. I need to work.

“Actually, evenings aren’t great for me. Keeping our meetings between business hours would be best.”

He eyes me curiously, and I can sense he’s trying to figure out what it is I’m doing with my nights, but he doesn’t pry. Because we are trying to be friends. Professional, non-overstepping friends.

“Friday then,” he offers. “After my morning skate and before my game. Let’s say three o’clock. My place.”

“Friday at three it is. Don’t be late this time.”

He chuckles. “I’ll do my best.”

A moment lingers between us, neither knowing what to say, when Rio finally gestures towards my house. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

I make the same motion towards his place. “So should you.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t be surprised to learn that not much has changed in that department. I’m lucky if I can get a few hours a night.”

Like an instinct, it’s on the tip of my tongue before I remember that we aren’t kids anymore. We can’t sneak to each other’s houses to sleep and pretend it doesn’t mean anything.

So instead, I offer him a weak, tired smile and leave for my door. Once I reach it, and before I go inside, I look back over my shoulder at him. “Good night,friend.”

He grimaces. “Yep. Don’t love that.”

I chuckle, unlocking the front door. “Good night, Rio.”

He stays there, hands in his pockets, watching me go inside. “Night, Hal.”

Wren left the entryway light on for me, as well as the one on the porch. When I close the front door behind me, I lock it at the same time, but before I turn off the porch light, I look for him one last time through the peephole.

Rio is still standing there, hands in his pockets, wide stance as he faces my door, looking at it as if he can see me through it.

---