Page 6 of Wild Love
“You look tired.”
Ryan stumbles from our bedroom and gives me a dopey smile. I wait for the swirl of butterflies to crash around in my stomach, but they don’t come.
“I am,” he says, immediately heading for the coffeepot.
I’m not sure where he was last night. I came back to an empty apartment after a session of late-night stewing around the office while I finished up some work. HR really was gone for the day–—I know because I went past their offices multiple times, which just added to my anxiety.
When I got home, I cracked open a bottle of wine and stared out over the city. Under the pitch-black cloud-covered sky and the endless West Coast drizzle, cars weaved through the wet downtown streets of Vancouver with a gentle whooshing sound that was almost soothing. After that, I’d eaten a bowl of popcorn for dinner and contemplated my life.
Most girls would have been worried about their boyfriend’s whereabouts. They’d probably blow up their phones and demand to know where they were and who they were with. But I was struck by no such inclination.
I like Ryan. I’ve always liked Ryan. Since the first day he flopped down next to me and flashed me that signature lopsided, boyish grin in the first finance course of my master’s program. Everything about our relationship after that was easy. Friends and study buddies, roommates, and from there… more.
Then I just never left.
Sometimes I wonder if it was all just a littletooeasy. We grew from roommates to partners in a way that seemed simple and obvious. Now, we’re feeling like roommates again, and I wonder what changed and how I never noticed it happening. I wonder if sweet, lovable Ryan has noticed or if I’m the problem.
I wonder… do you feel yourself fall out of love? Or do you just wake up and realize it one day?
“What’d you get up to?” I ask. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”
He pulls out the second seat at the island in our sleek two-bedroom apartment. “Yeah. Didn’t get back until like three and you were out cold. Some bigwigs from the head office took the guys and me out for beers after work, and one thing led to another.”
He chuckles good-naturedly and ruffles my hair. Some days that might feel sweet. But after what happened to me yesterday, it feels… condescending.
I give him a brittle smile and smooth my hair. Ryan is a good guy. I remind myself of this all the time, over little things. I feel guilty those little things are irritating me, and I feel guiltier for what that irritation might mean.
He’s like a golden retriever. Happy and chill and unbothered all the time. And sometimes when he accidentally drools on me or gets hair on my black shirt, like some sort of big, happy idiot, I want to snap at him. But he’s so well-meaning that I don’t.
I ignore it because our lives are too damn busy for me to worry about that right now. Ryan is everything I should want and I don’t want to throw away a multi-year relationship with a nice guy, all because I’m overworked and on edge.
That seems rash. It could be a phase. I could regret it. I’ve always been the responsible child in my family. I don’t make thoughtless moves.
“Fun,” I add without feeling. Because a bunch of oilindustry guys going out on the town doesn’t sound any better than a bunch of construction industry guys doing the exact same thing.
They both sound like prime ass-grabbing situations.
My cheeks heat as I recall the feeling of Stan’s hand over the curve of my body. I’ve always thought I’d be able to brush something like that off. When I ride the SkyTrain, people bump into me all the time. But with him it’s the intention— the path his touch took.
It feltwrong. And I stayed awake for a long time thinking about it. Realizing I had heard the sharp, ragged intake of his breath behind me as his fingers dug in.
That little gasp is what spurred me into motion.
That little gasp plays on repeat in my ears. It makes my skin crawl. It makes me not want to show my face at work. It seems like it shouldn’t bother me this much, and yet it does. I’m not sure who I trust enough to tell. I could tell West, but I know how he’d react, and I don’t want him to go to jail.
So, I opt for Ryan. Sweet, lovable, reliable Ryan.
“I have something I was hoping I could get your opinion on.”
He pauses from scrolling on his phone to peek up at me, a reassuring expression on his face. “Yeah, babe. Of course.”
“So yesterday, at the end of that big meeting I’ve been prepping for—you know the one?”
His eyes stay glued on the screen, but he nods. “Yeah, of course. You’ve been walking around muttering that presentation under your breath for at least a week. I bet you nailed it.”
“Right. Yeah. That’s the one. And it went well. But,so…” My fingers twist in my lap, cup of tea forgotten on the counter before me. I have my full attention on Ryan as I try to muster the courage to get this out. But Ryan has his attention on what appears to be a video of a raccoon taking a bubble bath.
“At the end of the meeting, I was showing my boss, Stan, something. And he touched me. Well, he grabbed my ass.”
