My head fell back onto the couch cushion and I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing to slow my racing heart. At the end of the day, Ryder was a boy. No, correction, we were in our late 20s now. Ryder was a man. But the thing about men is that they never say what they mean, at least in my experience with them, and whatever they do say is usually a lot more simple than my female brain transforms it into.
Somehow, in my spiral of overthinking, I began to mentally reminisce about my past relationships since I left Shadow Hills. There hadn’t been that many, but enough where I had picked up a thing or two and really honed in on what I wanted out of a relationship and in a man.
I had dated some real losers, all the relationships never getting past the four-month mark because of one of their various screwups, but I also knew that I wasn’t innocent when it came to screwing it up in my own way, too.
“Emotionally unavailable” is what the last boyfriend, Gage, had called me.
Gage was a looker with his light brown, perfectly styled hair and dark brown eyes. If I was being perfectly honest, his physique didn’t hurt, either. What good ol’ Gage was lacking, however, was any sort of compassion, empathy, or overall human decency. He was the jerk who snapped his fingers at waitstaff to get their attention, let the door slam in little old ladies’ faces while walking into a building, and the one who always sent his mother to voicemail.
The only reason why I stuck around for so long—if you count six weeks as long—was because the sex was good. He knew how to take care of his women in bed, which was the extent of his taking care of abilities. When I eventually broke it off with him, the final straw being when he left a $5 tip on a $125 meal, he was less than pleased. I didn’t have the chance to explain why I was no longer interested because he called me “an emotionally unavailable bitch” before he reached over me to open my car door, signaling for me to get out.
The memory still makes me laugh.
Since my lovely time with Gage, I had been blissfully single, but now as I sat here with my head against the couch and the lingering sensation to pick up the phone and continue my message chat with Ryder, I contemplated if I really was emotionally unavailable.
I had built my walls up, brick by brick, and no one had truly ever crashed them down. I hadn’t let them, but I also hadn’t wanted anyone to.
Later that night, while in bed, I stared at Ryder’s last message to me and debated heavily about responding or just letting it go. It had been a one off that we had even exchanged a few messages, and he hadn’t reached out again after I stopped responding to him. Why would he? He was probably lying in bed right now, next to Lily, talking about their day or making love.
I groaned, tossing my arm over my eyes. Why did I have to let my mind go there?
Because that’s what people in relationships do, dummy. That’s what married people do.
Ugh. I was growing more frustrated by the second. This is exactly why I had avoided anything to do with him. This feeling right here. I let myself stew inside for another twenty minutes or so before I reached over and plugged in my phone, then tossed it on the floor.
Rosie owed me a stiff drink after tonight.