Chapter 28 Flip Flop
FLIP FLOP
Trina
The next day is my favorite kind of day. A day off.
Normally I’m all about spending a no-work day in do-nothing mode where I devour a book, hang with Aubrey, and take Nacho to the dog park.
But my sister has a baby shower coming up soon and since I’m already the screwup in the family, I can’t very well show up with a pack of diapers because that’s all that’s left on the registry. I’m certainly not going to be able to afford the thousand dollar stroller that’s on her wish list.
Which means it’s Target time before Ryker and I visit his grandmother for lunch and a pic. I’m in my guest room—AKA my clothing storage room—picking the perfect sweatshirt to go with my burgundy crop top when Chase strides into the bedroom. “You still going to Target? Need a ride?”
“Is it the overwhelming desire to spend more time with me or is it that no one can resist Target?”
“Don’t ask me an impossible question if you don’t want the answer.”
“Fair enough,” I say, and since Ryker’s off at practice, I head to the garage with Chase and hop into his electric car.
He’s around this morning, has practice tomorrow, then a game on Saturday afternoon, while Ryker has a game Saturday night, with Sunday off for the wedding.
Then there’s Monday. When this is all over. And I don’t want to think about Monday.
“You can put on music if you want,” Chase offers as he slowly backs out of the steep drive.
“Whoa. Multiple orgasms. Feeding me. And now, DJ controls. You’re going for the full book boyfriend trifecta,” I say.
He scoffs. “With the amount of Os you’ve had it’s more like quintet. Nope, make that sextet since I like the sound of that word.”
“Me too, but why don’t we play one of your scary books instead of music?”
As Chase shifts into drive, he shoots me a doubtful look. “Seriously?”
“I’ve never tried one but I feel like I could handle it. I’m tough.”
“If you say so,” he says, dubious. He hits play on his phone, and a deep, foreboding voice floods the car.
“There was a creak in the empty tunnel, then a rattling cough. A chill swept over her. Taylor spun around, gripping her makeshift knife, before she stepped onto something soft, and wet. Oh god. The stench of the rotting corpse—”
I cover my ears, shrieking. “Stop it right now! I’m shaking!”
Chase barks out a laugh as he hits stop. “I warned you.”
My pulse skyrockets. “Put on something pleasant.”
“Why don’t you pick something, sweetness?”
With my skin still crawling, I go to his app and look for a sample of a romance novel. Something escapist and sexy.
With shaky fingers, I find one from Hazel Valentine and Axel Huxley. Ten Park Avenue. I hit play. “Look, facts are facts. Women want three things: Batteries that don’t die. A lover who knows when to shut up. And a dress with pockets.”
“Yes,” I say, joyful again. “Yes. Yes. Yes. This is a universal truth. There’s actually a store on Fillmore called Better With Pockets.”
Chase taps his temple. “Pockets. Noted.”
When we reach Target, we head in together and I call up the registry on my phone. “Let me see what’s in my price range.” Then I roll my eyes, showing him the list as we pass the women’s clothes and head to baby wear. “I am not buying her nipple cream.”
Chase cringes. “Diaper rash cream is a gift no-go too.”
“Exactly. Get that yourself. Same thing applies for pacifier wipes.”
“Are those all on there?”
“Cassie is very thorough,” I say with a nod.
“Show me the list.”
We stop by a display of sapphire blue towels, and I hand him my phone. As he reads a new tale of horror, his deep brown eyes glaze over. “You know what? This is far too complicated. Just pick something that’s not practical and it’s my treat.”
“You really don’t have to get something for my sister.”
“It’s not for your sister. It’s for you. I like doing things for you,” he says.
My heart softens even more. “You’re so sweet, especially since I’m dreading this shower,” I say as we turn down the next aisle.
“I know. It makes me sad that your family doesn’t quite understand you.”
“Me too. I think I’m just used to it by now,” I say with a shrug.
But what doesn’t make me sad is getting to spend this little extra bit of time with Chase in a Target on a Thursday morning, especially when he says, “But I like to think I understand you.”
My heart speeds up, beating at a rapid clip as I meet his gaze. “I think you do too,” I say, then I whisper, “And I like it.”
“Me too,” he says, and we lock eyes for several heady seconds till he adds, “Dying to kiss you.”
“Same,” I say.
He leans in slightly but then pulls back. “Dammit. If Ryker can’t kiss you in the store, I can’t either,” he says.
What is he doing to my heart? His loyalty to his friend is too appealing.
Once we’re out in the car and away from crowds in a quiet part of the parking lot, he presses a kiss to my lips that I wish could last longer.
I wish so many things could last longer.
But still, I’m acutely aware that our time is running out. It feels like the middle of a vacation when the calendar inexorably flips. You pass the midway mark, and you just wish you could make the hours go on and on and on.
But you can’t. Vacations always end. Just like this unconventional arrangement will in a few more days, no matter how hard my heart beats around my men.
* * *
Dorothy makes a wiggling gesture with her fingers. “Come to mama,” she says to the pot of chips on the table in the community games room. We’re at the condos where she lives just over the Golden Gate Bridge, and she’s decimating Ryker and me in poker.
Ryker huffs. “I bet this deck is weighted or something.”
“Or perhaps you’re just not as good as I am,” she says, matter-of-factly, sliding the chips next to her.
“I’ve won before. A few times,” he says, all grumbly and Ryker-y.
“You cling to that, why don’t you?” She winks at me as she shuffles the cards.
“You can’t be good at everything, Ryker,” I tease, jumping on the pile-on-Ryker train.
“I’m very good at cards,” he says, insistent.
“Pfft,” Dorothy says. “The universe doesn’t give out gifts that freely to everyone. You’ve got to take your pick. Sports or games.”
“She’s right,” I weigh in, totally on Grandma’s side.
Dorothy shoots me a wise smile, her eyes crinkling at the corner. “Listen to your girlfriend. She knows what she’s talking about.”
Ryker’s lips part, and I swear the correction is forming on his tongue. He’s about to say I’m not his girlfriend. And really, I should say the same too. But I feel kind of like a jerk saying that. Or maybe I enjoy the sound of the word girlfriend too much.
“She’s a friend,” he says evenly, but perhaps like it costs him something.
Dorothy rolls her eyes. “You can call her a friend, but I can tell the truth.”
“Grandma…”
“You’re not fooling me,” she chides, and I hide a smile.
“Grandma,” he says again.
“Seriously? How many times are you going to Grandma me? You’ve spent this entire card game making eyes at her.”
My stomach swoops. I dip my face, trying to hide my laughter, or maybe it’s my hope. This silly hope that’ll never see the light of day that I could be both their girlfriends. But that’s crazy. That’s not the real world.
“I already told you,” he says, but it’s a pointless argument.
She’s decided. “I don’t care what you told me. I can see with my eyes. I can feel it,” she says, tapping her chest. “Now, let’s play another round.”
She deals and when I take out my phone and snap another shot for his social media feed, I don’t feel like his friend either.
I feel like I belong to both of these guys. The trouble is I don’t know what to do about all these new feelings that don’t have a home in the real world.
* * *
Ryker drives me back to Chase’s place a little later. “Thanks again for coming. And the pics. And…being so cool with Grandma,” he says as he crests Divisadero.
“Of course. I love her already.”
“Pretty sure she feels the same about you,” he says.
As he drives, I glance over at his hands on the wheel, then my eyes travel up his arm, checking out his ink once more.
He told me to ask him about them in bed, and I never did. But now seems as good a time as any. “So, why compasses? Is it for travel? Adventure? Something else?”
At the light at the top of the hill, he shoots me a smile that says my question was inevitable. “It’s a reminder that if I get lost, I can find my way back.”
“To what?”
“To wherever I’m supposed to be,” he says, then holds my gaze for a long, weighty beat.
My heart flips for him, like it did for his best friend earlier today. And since we’re in his car with tinted windows and the light is still red, I say to him what Chase said to me at the store. “Dying to kiss you.”
Ryker curls a hand around my head and kisses me for a hot, heady second. That’s all, and I want so much more.
* * *
Later, I’m alone at the dog park, urging Nacho through the triple hoops, then cheering him on when he nails all his skills.
“Who’s the best boy in the world?” I call out, and he jumps—okay, it’s more like pogo sticks—up and down.
I pick him up and give him a kiss on his snout, then glance around. Is someone going to take my picture? Ha. I’m not interesting without a famous athlete by my side.
Fine by me. I never wanted the spotlight, but as I leash up Nacho, and leave, I feel a pang in my chest. A wistfulness.
Next week, I won’t come to this park. I’ll be in my own tiny studio in the Outer Sunset, taking a bus to work across the city, and using any little extra dough on doggie daycare for this little love bomb.
I’ll be back to my regular life.
Though I can’t help wondering what it’d be like to come here to this park, not just with Chase but Ryker too? To laugh and play, like I did with Chase at Target, and Ryker with his grandmother? Then to kiss?
My heart squeezes. I want that but know I can’t have it.
When my phone rings a minute later, I answer it right away. It’s my mom, and it’ll be good for me to focus on my regular life.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, trying to sound upbeat.
“Hi, sweetie. Just wanted to say hi,” she says, and we make small talk as I circle the outskirts of the park. But soon the conversation comes around to her favorite topic. Romance and matchmaking.
“So how’s everything with your new beau? When can we meet him? He seems so nice. I read all his press coverage. What a good family man. Did you know he pays for his brother’s college? Oh, and he donates to cancer research and animal rescues, and he’s such a good one.”
My shoulders tense. I’m going to let them down all over again when this silly little pretend girlfriend thing ends. “Yeah, he’s great,” I say.
And so’s the other guy too.
But how would I ever say those words to them? They’d never understand what I’m feeling right now.
She and my dad were high school sweethearts. They had the perfect wedding and have the perfect marriage, the perfect daughter in Cassie.
I’m just…well, me.