27. Tidepools #2
I suppose old habits die hard. Nevertheless, I can’t help nursing a fuzzy feeling inside my chest at his gesture. That Rhys, who’d ridiculed my ASSET competence for so long, would be the one to step in my corner will not be forgotten.
I shoulder bump him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For vouching for me.” I keep my eyes carefully averted to my sandy ankles. “Despite knowing I’m a fraud.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” he shoulder bumps me in return, “you may have sucked before, but now you don’t. You know more about the ASSET than you give yourself credit for. After all,” he tilts his head at that familiar arrogant angle, “you’ve had a great teacher.”
Despite my shitty mood, I can’t help snorting. “I suppose you’re right.” I hold his eye for a moment before dropping my gaze back to the ocean. “But they’ll have to find another ASSET expert. I’m out.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re still quitting?”
“I never loved my job. And now that I know what the ASSET is…” I look at him. “The ASSET is evil, by the way. I figured it out.”
“The ASSET could be evil,” he corrects me. “In your hands, it’s a data cruncher just like any other program.”
“And you believe someone like me, a professional bullshitter, can use it responsibly?”
Rhys takes a long time to respond. “Someone once told me that a person who pads their résumé shows a tenacity and resourcefulness of character and is not actually a liar or a cheat.” He pokes his head up and meets my eye.
“You may be,” he clears his throat, “creative with the truth, but you are not evil, and I think, at your core, you want to do good. You just have a twisted way of doing it. I mean, look what you did for me.”
I bow my head, mulling over his assessment of my character.
It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
All this coming from the one person who originally harbored the lowest opinion of me.
I should consider Rhys’ compliment a ‘win.’ In time, I will over-analyze how he was willing to fight Sam for my honor, a chivalrous albeit illogical deed considering that Rhys was sure to lose.
But I’ve been thinking a lot today. The adrenaline high of the last hour has led to a major crash, and my poor brain can’t handle any more revelations or speculations.
In the aftermath of my rage quit, I’ve held on to one certainty.
I don’t know where my life is heading or what I want to do. But I do know what I don’t want…
“Be that as it may, I’ve grown to hate the ASSET. There’s no point in pretending, is there?” I twirl a strand of kelp between my fingers. “I need a career change.”
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know yet.” I let the statement linger while I get up and brush sand from my trousers. “But I have a feeling I’ll find it at the tide pools.”
Rhys scrambles up after me. “You’re going there now?”
“It’s not like I have a job to go to.” I don’t have much going for me at the moment. The only dignity I have is a chance to fuck off into the sunset and I’m going to take it.
Picking up his shoes, he calls, “C-can I come with you?”
I stop in my tracks. Slowly turning around, I note the bashful duck of his head as he waits for my answer. “Don’t you have to get back to the office?”
“I’m on my lunch break.”
“If you don’t mind hanging out with an unemployed loser who just turned down a six-figure job to find herself.”
Rhys shrugs. “I don’t mind.”
“I’m a bad influence.”
“That much is a given.”
I began walking, leading the way back to the parking garage to retrieve my car. Sneaking a stealthy glance at his profile, I ask the question I’ve been dying to ask. “Would Michelle mind?”
“Yeah, about that...” He jams his hands in his pockets. “Something weird happened two weekends ago and, well…”
My ears perk up. Something weird? I could sense his hesitation.
“What happened?” I eye his baggy trousers and wrinkled dress shirt…
that godawful blazer slung over his shoulder.
“Why are you wearing this thing?” I pinch the polyester fabric between my fingertips.
“What happened to the designer suits I picked out for you?”
He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck with a sandy hand. “Michelle shredded them on our first few dates.”
“What? You mean she destroyed them?” Then I get it. She’s moved beyond tossing her drink in his face and has upgraded to taking scissors to his clothes. “What did you say to her?”
“Oh,” Rhys shrugs, “I didn’t say she did it out of anger.”
I blink, unable to process what he’s telling me. Then it dawns on me, and I sock him on the arm. “You mean, out of passion?”
“As I said before, it’s a long story,” he says, skirting the issue. “Do you have time?”
I snort. “Do I have time?”
“I’ll tell you at dinner,” he says.
“Why not now?”
“I’d prefer to,” his words escape in stops and starts, “well, the thing is, I prefer to tell you over dinner. That is, if you want to.” He massages the back of his neck, which was swiftly turning red.
“I understand if you don’t want to, given what just happened.
Um... forget about it. Forget I said anything. ”
“Oh my god,” I clasp my hands over my mouth, “don’t tell me you two eloped!”
“What?” His eyes widen, mortified. “No! We are most definitely not married. I just wanted to tell you we’re no longer together. So I guess that means we broke up, except we were never really ‘together’ to break up.”
“But why couldn’t you just tell that to me now?”
“I just...” He looked like he wanted to bury his head in the sand. “I hadn’t seen you in a while and thought—”
“Wait…” I halt again and turn to face him. “Rhys?”
He gulps. “Yeah?”
I tilt my head up, alerted to the true reason behind his sputtering. My heart skips a beat, fluttering with hope.
Is this happening?
Do I want it to happen?
Am I ready for it to happen?
Do I deserve it?
“Are you asking me out?” I ask.
His cheeks are burnished red. He tries to smile, but it comes out as a twitch. “Did I do that right?”
“I...” Despite my best efforts at turning him into a smooth talker, he will never be a Casanova.
He will always be awkward and clumsy. Surprisingly, I don’t mind.
Beyond riches or status, all a girl wants is to be asked out by a cute, dopey guy who treats her with kindness.
So I employ a little white lie to bolster his confidence and nudge him on, “You did it very smoothly.”
Realistically, he wasn’t smooth at all. He’s shaky and pale, seconds away from passing out. But I’m seeing immense progress. And by progress, I mean that if I had a drink on hand, I have no reason to toss it in his face. In fact, I do want to go on this dinner. Very much so.
A shy smile ghosts his lips in acknowledgement of my lie. He squares his shoulder and offers me his arm. “Would you like to go out with me?”
“Rhys Stiltskine...” I smile at his reaction, effervescent with happiness as my arm loops around his. My life is in shambles, but I can see one tiny piece falling into place. “I thought you’d never ask.”