18. Rhodes
18
Rhodes
I ’m pacing my bedroom, which is also my living room and kitchen, after abandoning the couch when Paige sent me a voice text. I should be working, but I can’t.
She just voice texted me.
I couldn’t respond for obvious reasons, but I had to keep the conversation going. Having her put herself out there only to ignore her wasn’t an option. But now, I’m deeper in this than I ever thought I’d be.
I push a palm to my forehead. “What just happened?”
Things have officially changed in our relationship. We can’t go back from this. Flirty texts, cute GIFs, and deep conversations hold nothing to what was just unlocked. If we were in the same room, it’s as if I just unclasped her bra and held her in my hands.
My flooring will have a worn space in an hour when I have to leave to go pick up Paige.
Oh no, I have to pick her up . I have to face her. Shit.
There’s no way I can stay cool after that—the part of the story where talk about the physical stuff changes the dynamic. Things can’t go back to the way they were. As Roger, this makes total sense for him. But for Rhodes—for me —I’m stepping into a pond full of piranhas. If and when Paige finds out—I’m not entirely sure Amber will let me out of this without spilling who I am—she’ll remember the conversation we had tonight. She’ll know I was on the other end of the burner phone I purchased just to talk to her as Roger.
All of this lying is eating me alive. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.
I rake rough hands through my hair when my phone buzzes on the bed. I lunge for it and look at the screen. Paige’s name is spelled across the top.
“Oh no. No, no, no. I can’t…” I say to myself.
Then I realize I’m holding my phone and not the burner. I lose three inches in height with my sigh and sink to the end of the bed, answering Paige’s call as Rhodes and not Roger.
“Paige?”
“I need your advice.” She doesn’t bother with hello, which I should be used to by now, but in this case, I wish there would be some transition time. Getting a cold call from the woman I’m crazy about after our conversation is unnerving.
“Okay,” I say. “Um, what is it?”
“Are you alright? You sound weird. Is someone strangling you?”
I clear my throat and force a smile so she can hear it in my voice. “I’m great. Just…” I look around my room for an idea of what I could’ve been doing, “organizing my sock drawer. Why are you whispering?”
There’s a pause that seems to go on forever. “Why are you organizing socks?”
“It’s never a bad time to organize.”
“I’ll get a bumper sticker for you that says that,” she says before continuing. “I’m in the dressing room right now, and I don’t want anyone to hear me, but I was talking to Roger, and I need you to weigh in on something. ”
Cue the sweat on my brow. “Let’s hear it.”
“Things are…different between us,” she starts to explain. “Tonight, I asked what he looked like. And then he asked what I looked like.”
“And…”
“And things got a little heated, I guess. Maybe.”
They were definitely hot on my end.
My feet pick up speed again, and I’m slightly out of breath when I ask, “Were you…well, did you like it?”
“Yes.” She’s definitive in her answer. This is good . “It felt right. Nothing was forced or anything, it just happened. And I’m more than okay with it.”
My heart is currently bouncing on a diving board ready to take the leap of my life and tell Paige it’s me . I’m Roger. Or rather, Roger is me. I wasn’t built to sustain this kind of deception.
“Paige, I—”
“Am I nuts? This is really fast, even for me.” I can tell she’s pacing, too, since her whispered words are tripping over each other. “We just started talking last weekend, and here we are, discussing bedrooms and sexy time and rectangles.”
The way she says rectangle out loud makes me cover my mouth, so I don’t laugh. It was a description I honestly had to look up before texting her back, having never heard of it before. But all of the diagrams online confirmed what I already knew because I’ve seen Paige nearly every day. Her waist has the right amount of grip with more than a generous handful due north. And she’s always been petite, like a fun-size toy you get in your happy meal, at least to me.
“Rectangle?”
“Don’t look that up! ”
“I won’t,” I say, mentally adding it to the things I’m lying to Paige about. “You’re worried it’s going too fast?”
“Well, yeah. The times I’ve rushed things, especially physically, in a relationship, it hasn’t worked out. Clearly. We break up, and then I’m left feeling awful for opening myself up. I don’t want to give Roger the wrong impression, but the physical side is also important. We should have chemistry.”
The thing about Paige is how much she loves. But a part of her also worries she isn’t enough. Like how she looks or who she is wouldn’t make someone want to get on a knee or commit.
I’m not like the other guys, though.
I’d gladly get on a knee in any capacity.
I rub my forehead again, feeling the exhaustion settling deep in my cells. “If it feels right, you should go all in. It’s not like you haven’t been talking about other things.” I immediately second-guess if she’s told me this or not. “Based on everything you’ve said so far.”
“Yeah?”
I can hear the question in her voice. It echoes the one in my head. Not because I hesitate to know her on this level but because I want to handle this carefully. My greatest fear is that she chooses to go on a date with me, and then changes her mind after figuring out who I am. All of the protests and shock roll around in my head daily now: I don’t want to ruin our friendship , ew , we’re just friends , or I don’t like you like that . And the worst possibility: you lied to me.
Does the fact I’m doing this for the sake of love help me at all?
I hope so.
Paige is putting herself out there with this whole experiment, and I want to do the same. I don’t want to hold back. In fact, there’s nothing I want more than to talk about what’s under all of her clothes. But I need to be careful. Walk the line my body is so intent on hopping over.
“Yeah. If this Roger guy ends up being someone you want to be with, how he talks about a lot of things is going to be what tells you that. So, talk, ask. All of it. Don’t stop being you, Paige.”
“Thanks, Rhodes,” she says quietly. “Oh! And Delia and I are going out tonight and she wants you to come. So, uh, put on your dancing shoes.”
Delia wants me to come? What’s her angle? “Uh. I might have more organizing to do.”
“It will still be there tomorrow,” she says. “Come on. Amber is on closing shift and has to work early tomorrow, so I know she won’t come. I need a dancing partner.”
The opportunity to dance with Paige is all I need. “I’ll be there. Text me where and when.”
“Yes!” she shouts and I hear someone else shush her. “Sorry,” she pleads then adds, “Thank you so much, Rhodes. For everything. See you tonight.”
She hangs up before I get a chance to respond, but I still say, “You’re welcome.”
And I mean this with my entire heart because it’s hers anyway.