28. Ryan #2
She lets out a subdued but excited squeal. “Isn’t that the best feeling? Not being a thirst trap—I know how you are—but winning?”
The best feeling? I mean—it’s good. Who doesn’t love to win?
But the best part of the challenge by far has been sharing it with Malcolm and Bailey, now Miguel.
I’m honest with Norah. “It’s something I can see us doing long term.
Helping one person at a time is great, and giving specialized attention, but building a community… ”
“That’s what I loved about teaching,” Norah says.
She lets go of me to open a door and gestures me into a tiny office with a sliver of a window.
There’s a bookcase full of what looks like old ledgers covered in dust, a desk, and three chairs.
Her laptop is on the desk along with her pink Stanley and a half-eaten protein bar. The déjà vu is strong.
“So,” she says, pulling a seat up next to hers and sitting. “Is Isla still terrorizing all the men? Tell me everything.”
I count myself lucky that Norah is the way she is.
I think it would take an act of God, or at least many shots of tequila for her to actually make a move.
She’s flirtier long distance than she is in person, and so she really does want the office gossip and to vent about her presentation.
Her smiles and lingering looks are the only hint that there’s ever been a spark of heat between us, but the morning I spend with her is almost completely platonic.
It’s over lunch that the conversation veers into more personal territory.
We’re at Big Bites. We cut out of the office around eleven- thirty, earlier than most people leave for lunch. She said the protein bar wasn’t cutting it, and I suggested the deli.
She eases into the subject of us by asking, “Are you still thinking you might want to check out the Seattle offices?”
“I haven’t ruled it out,” I say, which, admittedly, is a different tune than I was singing at the beginning of the summer.
“So…Malcolm…?” she says.
I flash a glance up at her from my menu. “Yeah?”
“I saw the TikTok where he fell.”
“I figured you might have.”
“You wanna say more?”
I sigh and push the menu aside. I get the same thing every time I’m here anyway. “He’s a risk,” I say.
“You hate those,” is her soft reply.
“I don’t hate him , though.”
“No, it didn’t look like it.”
“Look, in my defense, I thought he hit his head.”
“He did hit his head. On the floor.”
“The thing is he’s had this girlfriend since high school, and she’s been out of town. They were serious about each other.”
“And now?”
“I really wanted to move on from this,” I say, defeated.
Her expression is sympathetic. She reaches across the table to hold my hand. “He’s your stepbrother isn’t he?”
“Was. He was my stepbrother.”
“There is something sort of…I don’t know. Magic between you.”
“Between us, or is it just me being stupid?”
She frowns. “Why stupid?”
I give her a condensed version of our troubled history and she says, “You weren’t stupid. And you weren’t the asshole.”
“He turned me into one, though.”
“It sounds more like you turned yourself into one,” she disagrees. “Which is totally understandable defense against how you were treated.”
“I just—if it hadn’t been so disastrous when it went wrong the first time, it might be easier to trust these feelings.”
I’m relieved she doesn’t look heartbroken. Maybe she saw me as a long shot, too, or maybe I misread the whole situation with her in general. Who the fuck knows? I’m not exactly a genius at knowing when someone likes me, much less wants me.
“You’re a stronger person now. You have a life you’re building. You have a million opportunities. And you’re what? Twenty-four?”
I nod.
“That’s plenty of time to bounce back if it doesn’t work out.”
“I’ve never really been in a relationship before,” I admit.
“They definitely have their pros and cons,” she says.
“Were you head over heels for your ex when it all started?”
“A hundred percent,” she says.
“You think you’re more cautious now?” I ask.
“I think I’m just looking for different qualities. He wasn’t very nice, my ex. There were red flags.”
“Like what?”
“Like he was a terrible tipper.”
I laugh. “I agree that’s a red flag.”
“I didn’t expect him to cheat, though. That never occurred to me. So, I admit, that makes me question my judgment a lot more than I used to.”
“Sorry,” I say.
She shrugs. “I wasn’t the one for him. That’s how I see it now. There’s a man I’ve been talking to who works a floor down in my building. Also divorced, similar story. Like I feel like I can just tell he would never cheat because he’s so—can I say devoted if we’ve never been on a date?”
“You haven’t gone out with him? Has he asked? ”
She shakes her head, laughing softly. “No. But he texts me all the time. Random things. Stupid things. Like he’s determined to keep my attention.”
“Do you like him?” I ask.
She shrugs. “He’s growing on me.”
“Mal’s like an invasive tumor I’ve had since I was a kid, so I know the feeling. You should ask him out.”
“Oh, God…” she says like I asked her to try rock climbing without a harness.
“Wait—before I convince you, show me a picture.”
She does, and I determine based on looks and his LinkedIn profile that he’s good enough for her.
We order our food, and I try to convince Norah to step outside her comfort zone.
I promise her she can always run anything potentially shady by me.
and I’ll keep her from doing something she’ll regret later.
She pays the bill after an easy forty-five minute conversation, and we slide out of the booth, ready to put the final touches on her presentation.
Taking my hand again she says, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Reminding me it’s okay to go after what I want.”
“You did the same for me.” I give her a hug, grateful to her for giving me friendship and hope at a time when I was operating on an extremely shaky foundation.
“You’ve mellowed out a lot, you know,” she says, still in my arms.
I laugh, burying my face in her hair. “I might be happy or something crazy like that.”
“Enjoy it, Ryan. You deserve it.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “So do you.”
When we part, I feel someone brush by me, a shoulder against mine .
The back of Malcolm’s head is all I get as he and Bailey walk to a booth in the back of the dining area. Bailey, however, turns to scowl at me.
“Oh shit. It’s almost one.” Norah says. “We need to get back. I have to add two more slides to my power point.”
“One second,” I say, walking quickly to catch Mal before he sits down.
He looks at me with wild eyes. “So that’s her?”
“I—yeah, but?—”
“Classy,” he says. “You look great together. A perfect fit.”
“Mal—”
“Not now, Ryan. Today’s been shitty enough.”
“We need to talk,” I say.
He looks stricken.
“Not like?—”
He shakes his head, and that shuts me up. “I left a bunch of shit at your apartment. I’ll be by later.”
“What?” I ask. Does that mean he’s coming back to take his shit? Or he wants to talk, too?
“If you don’t mind,” he says, gesturing at his menu. “I’m hungry.”
With that, he sits down with Bailey, and I read her angry expression differently now.
It’s not a how dare you hurt Malcolm look, it’s more of a thanks a lot for making me deal with him like this look.
Frankly, I’m surprised as hell they’re having lunch just the two of them, but I guess we’ve all bonded.
Moderately reassured that we’ll get the chance to clear the air tonight, I tell them I’ll see them later and head out with Norah.
I trust Bailey not to let him spiral too hard.