Page 8 of Look My Way

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“You sure will.” I squeeze his shoulder, struggling to move forward when his body practically melts into my hand.

Yeah, no way can I wait until Friday. I don’t think I will either. He won’t see me until then, but I’ll be seeing him way before that. He just won’t know it.

Four

Liam

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He’d asked if Lex was my boyfriend, with disappointment clear in his eyes, and I don’t know why but I’d needed to ease his mind. I didn’t lie when I said no, but I also didn’t tell him about my fiancé I live with while I continued to flirt shamelessly. He’d said I was cute and after that I forgot how I was supposed to act. Or maybe I’d lost my way before then. All the blushing came naturally and so did all my smiles. My cheeks hurt from the number of times he’d made my lips stretch.

Our conversation had flowed easily, and not once was there a dull moment. I’d forgotten how long it had been since I was able to relax and be my full self in front of someone without feeling worried I’d say the wrong thing. He made me forget what I was afraid of. It was a breath of fresh air but also dangerous.

I’d let my guard down, laughing and smiling too much with another man. How would it look to Daniel’s friends or co-workers if they saw us having lunch together? It wouldn’t be thefirst time someone mentioned to him that they’d run into me somewhere and I hadn’t even realized they were there.

No one knows I came to this diner. It’s far enough from my house for him not to notice it here. He knows about the coffee shop I go to and the gas station I grab snacks from when needing breathers from deadlines. I’m supposed to be on one now. It’s why I’ve been leaving my house so much, because I keep watching my office door, waiting for it to open and a familiar car horn to sound off. Once I’m here, with my music in my ears and I’m deep in my words, I’m usually able to detach myself from him and my worries.

When I’d first joined Zavier at his table, the hair had risen on the back of my neck and I could hear Daniel’s words in my head.

“Those people aren’t your friends. They’re only trying to use you. Get something from you.”

He’d said that about an old co-writer of mine who used to invite me to attend writer conventions with him, and about any other guy who was any type of friendly with me. None of it was seen as genuine by him, and I hate to admit that his possessiveness once had me swooning. I was a puddle of goo when he used to grab onto me if another man looked my way. Then it became unhealthy and suffocating.

I was so lonely when he got busy, and I was lonely sometimes when he was home too. He had the same routines and made me adapt them with him. I had dinner when he did. I showered when he wanted to. We went to bed at the same time every night, and when he wrapped his arms tightly around me, it slowly stopped feeling loving.

I had become another thing he collected to set on a shelf for when he was ready to play with it. I got rotated with his collection of baseball cards, disc golf, and Jared.

My fingers freeze above my keyboard, and I stretch out my neck, trying to get back into my story and out of my head aboutother stuff. I have a deadline to worry about. For now, Daniel, Zavier, and everyone else can be put on the back burner. That mindset only works for so long, though, and then I find myself writing Zavier into my story again. He and my other MC have lunch together at a small diner, discussing books and movies. They don’t stop there either.

They meet up at other places too. Sometimes to eat, watch the sunset over the water, or feed the ducks. There are also short hikes and canoeing on the lake. One falls in the water, and I remind myself that these are made-up people. They aren’t real. Zavier isn’t leaning into me, resting his fingers above mine on my oar. He isn’t wiping water droplets from my cheek or pulling me out of the way of a bird flying our way so hard that I fall into his arms.

It’s not us kissing or hurrying back to the surface to rip each other’s clothes off in the front seat of his car. My body buzzes. I’ve tried to be spontaneous with Daniel, but he wouldn’t have it. He was so focused on public sex being against the law and me not able to handle him getting too rough. Maybe it’s because it’s not him I’m picturing with me in my novel. My brain’s aware of how impossible the idea of it is with Daniel but is somehow seeing it as a possibility with a man I hardly know. Someone who isn’t my fiancé.

He'd kept watching me eat while licking his lips. Those eyes were making promises, and my body was wanting to hold him to whatever they were. No. I can’t keep doing this. It was fine to fantasize about when I was sure I’d never see him again, and I shouldn’t. I almost wrote down the wrong number, but the deception left a hollow sensation in my gut. Why do I care so much about not letting him down?

I needed him to have my real name too. To hear it instead of Lex’s. No doubt I’ll be hearing it all day too. He’d called me a hero. Why did I like that so much? I’m not some helplesssick case to him. He’d talked to me as an equal, like I was as strong and capable as him. I didn’t realize how much I needed to experience that feeling, how much I’d want to have it again.

With Daniel it was always “you can’t” and “shouldn’t.” Turns out I want to be taken care of. Not because someone thinks I need it, but because they want to. Because they need it too.

Would Zavier treat me like Daniel if he knew I was sick? Maybe I don’t have to tell him. I won’t let whatever is going on between us continue after Friday anyway. At least, I say that now.