Her disappointment was almost too much — I nearly caved.
“Pen, I want to see you. Are you around tomorrow? All I need is a nap and a shower and I’ll be as hot and ready as a Little Caesars pizza.”
She laughed, the tension dissipating just a little. “Sounds good. Just let me know when you’re free.”
“How about you tell me when you’re off, and I’ll make time.”
Angie walked through the living room, digging through her purse. “Any special requests?”
I held up an empty can of Red Bull and shook it, and she nodded.
“Angie’s over?” Penny asked, something tinging her words with anxiety again. Jealousy? My brows dropped.
“Uh, yeah. She’s feeding us so we don’t overdose on caffeine and junk food.”
“Cool. That’s cool.”
I frowned. It didn’t sound like she thought it was cool. “You okay?”
“Yeah, no, for sure. I just figured you guys were all No Girls Allowed, like the The Little Rascals.” She attempted to joke, but it fell flat.
I tried to save it. “Just call me Spanky.”
She laughed, but it sounded fake, and I got up and walked to the kitchen for a modicum of privacy.
“You sure you’re okay?”
She sighed, a defeated noise and the first sign of honesty. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just really want to see you, that’s all.”
“I know. Me too. Tomorrow, okay? Anytime, you name it, and I’m all yours.”
“All right, Spanky. I expect you to hold good on the nickname though.”
“Deal. Text me later and let me know how your day is.”
“I will,” she said, and I could hear her smiling. That at least was a win. “Bye, Bodie.”
“Bye,” I echoed and hung up with a sigh of my own.
Penny was bugging out, and I wasn’t sure what had happened or what I could do to ease her mind.
For two days, we’d barely talked — two days after a night that changed me, changed us. And now that the brazen, unapologetic, confident woman I’d come to care for had been exposed, her insecurities and uncertainties were apparent.
I didn’t care past wanting to make it all right, make it better. Though part of me wondered if there was more to the shift in her.
I knew she cared, but maybe she didn’t trust me after all. I sensed she felt I’d penned her in, and if I couldn’t prove that I would take care of her heart, she could bust out of the fence and run for freedom. Maybe keeping her would drive her crazy. Maybe she just didn’t know what to do with herself.
I shook my head and ran my hand through my hair, which still felt too short, as I stared at my phone, imagining her somewhere in the city staring at hers too.
Angie was still in the kitchen, jotting on a piece of paper. She smiled up at me. “Jude had a list.”
I chuckled and leaned on the island. “Of course he did.”
“Everything okay?” she asked, glancing at my phone.
“Yeah. I think so at least.”
“How’s it going with Penny?”
“I can’t really tell. Things are getting a little … complicated.”
Angie raised a brow. “Oh?”
“I dunno. Maybe complicated isn’t the right word. Like, everything between us is fine, great even. But I think we’re both having feelings, and only one of us knows what to do with them.”
“Hmm. What’s going on?”
“She’s just acting cagey, uncertain.”
Angie frowned. “How come?”
I sighed and raked a hand through my hair again. “She doesn’t want commitment, and we’ve sort of outgrown the idea that it’s casual.”
“Have you guys talked about whatever feelings you’re having?”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid I’ll scare her off. She gets all in her head, and it’s like I can just see her snowballing away from me.”
“Do you know why she’s so …”
“Skittish? She dated this guy in high school, and he was horrible to her. He was fucking half the school and somehow kept it a secret from her until they broke up. Not only that, but he had her so under his thumb, and I don’t know if she ever escaped. Asshole,” I hissed to myself, hot anger churning in my chest at the thought. “He had no idea what he had. And when she got hurt, she decided not to let herself ever get hurt again. Which meant she won’t get into anything serious.”
Angie watched me for a second. “I think you need to talk to her.”
I squirmed.
“I mean it. You know, I always say that a relationship needs three things—”
“Trust, communication, and respect?”
She smiled. “That’s right. How many of those do you have?”
“Two out of three. I think the trust and respect are there, it’s just the communication part that’s not happening.”
“I know you don’t want to lose her, but you might anyway if you keep your mouth shut. If she doesn’t know how you feel, how can she be okay? And if you don’t know how she feels, how can you be okay? You should be honest, communicate. Then it’ll be easier to make decisions on what comes next.”
“And if she tells me she doesn’t feel the same and bolts?”
Angie’s big brown eyes softened. “Well, then you’ll know you weren’t in the same place.”
I scrubbed a hand over my mouth. “I dunno, Ang. That’s not how dating works. It’s all about this game, this power struggle. And Penny doesn’t just play the game. She practically invented it. I’m an anomaly for her, and I know she cares, but I don’t know if she knows how to play it straight.”
“You don’t have to play the game, you know? You don’t have to participate. Just tell her what you want and how you feel and see if she feels the same way.”
“Maybe I will. I’ve just got to be careful.”
“I know,” she said gently. “But you’re not going to break her.”
I only wished I could have believed that were true.
* * *
Penny
It’s cool.
We’re cool.
Everything’s cool.
It was my mantra for the rest of the afternoon at work, like a goddamn record skipping in an anxiety loop in my brain. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known he was going to be busy. I had. He’d told me. I knew. I swear.
It wasn’t me. He just had work to do, that was all. Which meant nothing was wrong and everything was cool and fine and perfect.
My guts twisted up at the lie.
The last two days had been nothing like the two days before the wedding. Those days had been busy with wedding stuff and happy lovey-dovey feelings about Bodie. And then, shit had to go and get all serious.
My mood had vacillated a thousand times in forty-eight hours, going from perfectly content to doomsday in a five-minute span. We’d texted and talked a few times, but he was working, and I was trying to respect that. It was just that my psycho brain wouldn’t comply.
I tried to visualize the wedding. I thought about the sweetness of Bodie’s arms around me, his lips against mine. Pictured him holding my face in my kitchen, telling me it was okay.
Of course, then I thought about what he was doing. I mean, Angie was over there, but I wasn’t allowed to be. I told myself that I’d be a distraction, but then I thought maybe he could use a break. He’d been working so hard, and I missed him. I considered swinging by with donuts or ice cream or some offering. I imagined him being so happy to see me, imagined him ditching work for a bit for kissing and laughing and talking, just so we could be in each other’s arms for a minute, so I could hold onto the feeling of him, to reassure myself that things were fine.
I could just stop by for a minute or two or whatever — I had an hour before my next job — and I smiled to myself, grabbing my bag and blowing out of the shop without a word to anyone, daydreaming about him being so happy to see me that he’d kiss me and ask me to stay.
I wanted to see him. I could make it happen. I wou
ld make it happen.
Even though he doesn’t want you to come over.
I nearly skidded to a stop on the sidewalk at the thought.
Fucking Peggy.
With a smile that would make the Grinch cringe, she told me that he didn’t want me there, that he didn’t want to see me. He wanted me to wait until tomorrow because he didn’t care to see me, or maybe he wanted to dump me. Either that or he was seeing someone else. Or just didn’t really like me all that much. He wanted my body, wanted my flesh, not my heart, not my soul.
I took a deep breath as cold panic set in. In the span of five minutes, I’d disregarded what he needed, what he’d asked of me, for my own wants and needs. I’d pushed up against that line, and the shock of the realization hit me with a jolt.
This was everything I’d been trying to avoid, everything I didn’t want.
I’d broken the three-date rule for what had become my favorite dick in the whole world, and this was the price I’d pay. I’d turn into a hot, steaming mess and ruin everything, self-destruct, sabotage my happiness, burn it all down.
But it was too late to go back. The floodgates were open, and the current was too strong to close them again.
Although maybe, just maybe, there was a way to slow things down.
The curse of him giving me what I wanted was that he still wasn’t being honest with me. I had no idea how he really felt, and that fact had me betraying myself and his wishes too. So I’d take a little space to buy a little perspective. It was time to take back an iota of control over myself — the helplessness I felt was overwhelming. It wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t good and happy and easy. It was sticky like flypaper, and I was stuck in it, trapped, immobilized.
I couldn’t deny I cared about Bodie. But maybe, if I took a minute to get myself right, I could come back to him fresh and ready and happy again.
Peggy whispered that I’d never go back because I was afraid. So I kicked her down the stairs and shut the cellar door. And then I picked up my phone, pulled up my messages, and texted Veronica two words.
BEAR TRAP.
15
SAVAGE
Bodie
The worst four words in the English language: Hit me up, Penny.
When she blew me off the next day, I told myself she was just busy.
When she didn’t call me for two days after that, I realized we had a much bigger problem.
My texts had been answered with single words and emojis. My calls had been sent to voice mail, followed by a one-off text that she was working, or out with Veronica or whatever the excuse du jour was. And the result was my absolute frustration.
So I kept busy with work and tried not to think about her. Which was, frankly, impossible.
That connection I’d come to depend on had been severed, and though I wanted to believe that she was just occupied, I knew she was putting space between us, separating from me. Leaving me. And I was alone and isolated and driving myself mad at the thought of losing her.
I tried to problem-solve, picking apart every interaction since the wedding to look for clues. If I’d done something wrong, I could fix it. If there was a way to salvage what we’d had, I would find it. Because I needed her, and I wasn’t ready to walk away. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to.
Three days in, I realized I might not have a choice.
My options were few.
I could try to reach out while attempting not to pressure her, but what with her lack of reciprocation over the last few days, I’d already exhausted that avenue.
I could wait her out, give her space, try not to worry, and hope she came back — this was where I found myself.
Or I could let her go. I could write her off. Close the door. Move on.
But being an honest man, there was no way I could pretend like that was even a remote possibility.
16
BRING A FRIEND
Penny
The shop hummed that afternoon from the dozens of people waiting with Siamese Dream playing over the speakers and the buzzing of tattoo guns in the air.
I should have been happy. I should have been content and smiling and wonderful since I’d gotten everything I asked for in the form of sweet, quiet solitude.
I didn’t know who the fuck I thought I was kidding. I was miserable. I hated being alone I’d realized, which shouldn’t have surprised me, but there it was. I was never alone. Alone was when my crazy blossomed into full-blown insanity — the curse of being a talker. If I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t figure it out. Half the time I didn’t even know how I felt until I said it out loud, and right now, I had no one. Ramona was on her honeymoon getting banged senseless. Veronica was busy doing God knew what.
Trust me, I knew I should have answered Bodie’s texts, called him back, and it was exactly what I wanted to do. But I was working hard to spare us both from having to deal with my psychosis. My solitary confinement was an attempt to decontaminate, an attempt to get my bearings so I could find my way back to him.
Problem was, my grand plan had backfired — the distance had made the crazy worse.
I’d made up an excuse not to see him that next day, once I’d gathered my wits and stopped trying to force my way into his apartment. I’d decided to take one day to think and separate and unscramble my brain. So I’d stripped and dyed my hair — this time, a pastel blue. I’d painted my nails. I’d taken a bubble bath and read an entire book. I’d cleaned my room. And the whole time, the whole fucking time, I had thought about Bodie and how much I’d rather be with him than at home.
I’d been certain I’d wake up the next morning feeling right as rain.
No such luck.
And I’d found myself at a loss.
He’d texted me the day after, and I’d blown him off again, citing work, which wasn’t a complete lie. He’d called me too, which I’d sent to voicemail like a coward. And then … then he quit messaging me altogether.
So I hadn’t gotten in touch with him. But he hadn’t gotten in touch with me either.
I tried to pretend like that didn’t break my heart.
I didn’t even know if we were good anymore. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to me. Maybe I’d made him mad — I’d pushed him away, and if the tables were turned, I’d be pissed too. Or maybe he was just playing defense on whatever he thought I was playing with him.
What if I never heard from him again?
Part of me — a big part of me — almost called him at that question alone. But what would I say about the last few days? Should I say I’d been busy? Should I tell him I’d been feeling things and risk his reaction?
What if he didn’t want me like I wanted him? And what if he did? Could I be with him in the real way? Could I give him what he wanted, what he deserved?
I didn’t even know anymore, but I’d had a lot of time to think about it.
If it were any other guy at any other time in my life, I’d have called on my little black book for comfort, but I’d rather have shaved with a rusty razor and risked tetanus. The thought of being with anyone else, even calling anyone else, made me feel sticky and gross.
That was its own bad sign.
Of course, the problem wasn’t even really a problem. I wanted to be Bodie’s girlfriend, but (A) I was crazy, and (B) I couldn’t seem to find a way to admit that out loud to him.
Space was supposed to make me feel better.
Wrong.
And now it was all topped by anxiety that I’d fucked up.
I’d blown my dream guy off. And why?
Peggy. That’s why.
Ramona floated into the shop, tanned and glowing and smiling as she said hello to everyone. I practically shot across the room and scooped her into a hug.
“You’re back!” I cheered, nuzzling her like a puppy. “I missed you.”
She laughed. “I missed you too. Look at your hair!” she said when she leaned back.
I smoothed it, smiling. “You like it?”
“I do. Does that mean …
”
My brow quirked. “It means it felt like it was time for a change.”
“Right.” Ramona didn’t stop assessing me, but she changed the subject. I thought at least. “How’s everything going?”
“Fine, who cares, whatever! Tell me about your honeymoon!”
She laughed. “You act like we haven’t talked every day since I left.”
“I can’t help it; I’m codependent.” I hooked my arm in hers to walk back to my station. “Did you let him stick it in your butt?”
That one got a cackle out of her. “It’s like the one time I can’t refuse.”
“That, and his birthday.”
“Fortunately, he’s a gentle lover when it comes to ringing at the back door. Like maybe the only time he’s gentle.”
“Psh, lucky.”
She squeezed me. “I missed you.”
I squeezed her back. “You already said that.”
“Well, it deserved saying twice. Now tell me what’s been going on around here. You know all about Tahiti and honeymoon anal, so spill the deal.”
“So,” I said as we passed Veronica’s station, “Ronnie is acting super weird. She’s had plans.”
Ramona’s face quirked, and she looked around me to Veronica, who waved excitedly but was in the middle of a piece and couldn’t get up.
“Weird,” Ramona said quietly. “Maybe she’s seeing someone.”
“Maybe. I can’t exactly blame her for not telling me either. I’d charbroil her for information. Fricasseed.”
Ramona giggled, and we rounded my wall. She took a seat in my chair, and I sat on my saddle stool, so relieved to see her.
“So,” Ramona started, “how’s Bodie?”
My nose wrinkled. “We haven’t really talked much since the wedding.”
Her brows dropped. “Why not?”
I shifted to lean on my desk. “Because I’m a mess, and I ruin things.”
She didn’t answer, which forced me to keep talking. That asshole.
“I dunno, Ramona. I don’t know what I’m doing. He got busy with work, so I didn’t see him for a couple of days, and I bugged out. Like butthurt and needy and demented. I just figured a little space would do me good.”