30. Rosy
THIRTY
ROSY
After having a night to myself with Moshi, I’m feeling a little better.
I don’t think I’m healed, but it’s less gut-wrenching and more of a dull ache.
Although, if Max were to appear in front of me right now, that would all change.
The reprieve in the hurt would break, and it would all come hurtling back in.
But spending time with animals seems to help me reset and get a better perspective. So we hung out, and with slow progress since Moshi arrived, we’ve managed to trust each other enough that he’ll creep out of his bed and take treats from my hand.
Does that mean a lot to most people? Probably not.
But to me, it’s important to appreciate how much trust it’s taken for him to accept me like that, and in return, I respect the time he needs for me to not rush things.
It would be nice if people put in the effort of understanding each other's boundaries and needs like that, but it’s rare people ever do.
Or that might be my jaded experience talking, because recently, my life has become fuller with people who seem to want to take the time to understand and get to know me.
And instead, I’m avoiding going over to see them.
A big part of me misses being in their space, surrounded by them.
I’m remembering what it’s like to have people care for me, and apparently, I’m not ready to give that up.
Perhaps I can make myself go, rip off the Band-Aid, and see him.
The longer I leave it, the more the anticipation’s going to build.
My hand pauses midway through brushing my hair, and I frown at my reflection in the mirror.
Not sure this pep talk is actually working.
But next time I’m invited over for dinner, I’m going to say yes. Nodding at myself, I try to bolster confidence. We’re leaving it down to fate…Mother Nature…God? Whoever’s out there.
I’ll rip off that Band-Aid and go to dinner. If they message me to ask.
My phone dings, and my heart drops through my chest in horror, the brush clattering into the sink. A birdlike sound screeches from my mouth, and my hands fly up to clasp my face. Did I just make something happen I’m not ready for?
I take it back.
I’m not ready.
“Did you hear that, universe? I’m not ready. So you need to undo whatever you’ve magicked to happen…please?” I whisper-yell, hoping that whatever I did gets reversed. Whoever said no take backsies is a liar.
Shit, shit, shit.
Reaching out a clammy, slightly shaky hand, I pick up my phone and unlock it.
Bry
How was work? What are you up to? x
Me
Same old. Did you make anything new today? Just getting ready to head out for a delivery driving shift. You? x
Bry
Do you fancy some company?? x
I freeze, then glance up. My eyes catch on my reflection, and the person staring back at me is flushed…almost giddy.
I really want to spend more time with Bry.
Me
I’d love it. I’m leaving in 10 minutes. Is that okay for you? x
Bry
Perfect, and I’ll bring the snacks. x
Now I look at the mirror for a whole different reason, a critical one. I want to impress him, for him to like me, but it also feels fraudulent to put on a load of makeup. Don’t I want him to like what’s under the makeup too?
I feel torn. Neither feels like the right option.
I decide to put on a little tinted moisturiser and leave it at that. It feels like the middle ground, whilst still making me feel good about myself.
Smoothing back my hair, I tuck it behind my ears, leaving it down, and rush back into my room. I shove my arms into the cosy teal teddy fleece and zip it up, then grab my bag and offer Moshi a treat as I say goodbye.
I’m hoping soon he’ll feel comfortable enough that I can introduce him to the rest of the flat without him wanting to panic and hide.
Dinosaur-themed sliders on, I pull open my door and come face-to-face with Bry and his raised hand. He chuckles warmly, and I can’t help the smile that rushes through me in response.
“Are you sure you want to come? It’s not very exciting. It’s just me delivering food to people,” I worry out loud, but a little of it eases when he slides his hand into mine, connecting us.
“Couldn’t imagine spending my evening any other way,” he declares, squeezing my palm.
A few deliveries in, and now I can’t imagine doing it without him. We’ve been taking turns, bouncing questions back and forth, throwing all sorts of random ones out there as a way to get to know each other.
“How long have you all lived together?” I ask, not able to hold back the burning question that’s been on my mind for a while.
He laughs, head tilted back against the seat rest.
“Ten years for Nate and Noah—they shared a house at university together. I moved in with them when I was twenty-two, so that was eight years ago. Max and Nate worked together for a while, then when Max needed a place to stay, he came to us. Five years later, here we are.” He shrugs.
“It’s an unusual setup, I know. But unless one or any of us decides to go our separate ways, it works for us. ”
Nate and Noah, I can understand, as he explained that. But there’s a burning question on my tongue that wants to follow up.
“You’re wanting to ask why?”
How did he know?
Another laugh eases from him, warming the small space around us. But I huff in frustration as I pull up at the next house.
“You're a freaky mind reader. But hold your answer, I’ll be one second.” I grab the piping hot bag from my back seat and dart out. I ring the doorbell, all but thrusting the bag into the customer’s hands, then spin and offer a wave over my shoulder.
Panting, I fall back into the car and turn to face Bry expectantly.
“You know, it’s technically my turn for a question…” he teases, and I roll my eyes with a grin stretched across my face.
“Be quick about it then.”
“Why the dinosaur sliders?” he asks, strawberry-blonde brow perfectly raised over his blue eyes.
My face heats. Don’t get me wrong, I love dressing in a way that brings me happiness, but sometimes explaining that when people point out my weird choices is embarrassing.
“What’s not to love? They’re green, and they have a 3D dinosaur head poking out the top that nods along when I walk, and little feet on the side,” I reply, hearing the defensive tone all too well. I’m already bracing for the laughter and judgement.
“You make a valid point. Now I feel left out and want a pair.” His response is more than I could have wanted. It feels like acceptance.
“Now you can answer my question…” I encourage, finally pulling back onto the road and heading to the next delivery. But I can feel his gaze on me, watching and absorbing.
He blows out a breath, and I have to fight not to turn my attention away from the road. “As I said, Noah was at university, but I’d decided to head into the restaurant world. I was working in a kitchen, training under a chef at a high-end place.”
“As in fancy, tiny portions?” I query, feeling a little awed.
“Super tiny,” he confirms. I glance quickly at him and feel unease at his pinched brows. “When we were twenty-two, our parents were in a car accident. They…didn’t survive.”
It’s in this moment that I wish we were someplace else, that I’d waited to ask these questions until we were somewhere I could offer him comfort.
A hug, at least. I look his way and see he’s turned, staring out his passenger window.
I wonder if, perhaps, it’s easier for him this way.
He can hold back the emotions whilst he recites the words that are difficult for him to voice.
“It hit us both so hard, and we grieved in different ways. Noah took the memories and treasured them; he threw himself into finishing his teacher training so he could become qualified and start making a difference for all his students.”
His tone is steeped in bitterness and what feels like envy. Shit, does that feel relatable.
It’s so easy to look at others and twist their pain into something pure and perfect.
Whilst you sit feeling dirty in your self-deprecating thoughts, wishing you could cleanse your mind and be a better person.
Fun fact: you should never assume anything, because more than likely, that other person is feeling just as shit as you are.
They might just be better at hiding it.
“But me, I couldn’t grieve like that. I wasn’t man enough for that.
I retreated, became a shell of myself, almost as if my life-force ran on their love, and without it, my body was shutting down.
Can’t even say I felt anger or an injustice over their deaths.
Which I know I should’ve. But I was so numb.
I had no thoughts, emotions, or feelings.
I stopped eating, drinking, or doing any basic care to look after myself.
None of it was intentional. I didn’t decide my life wasn’t worth living without them or anything like that.
But without them, I just didn’t…know how? ”
I park as he finishes with uncertainty; there’s nothing that could persuade me to get out and make the delivery right now.
I turn in my seat, my knee smacking against the handbrake, but I barely feel it as he turns and faces me.
His eyes are shadowed with guilt, and raw pain simmers beneath the surface.
His vulnerability pulls at something within me; it reaches with phantom fingers, outstretched and waiting for me to grab it.
Taking the metaphorical leap, I grasp him, not wanting to let go.
“You don’t need to explain or justify your grief, because it’s exactly that: yours.
No one can dictate how you should or shouldn’t experience it.
Just because you grieved them in a different way to someone else, it doesn’t make you love them any less.
I promise, they knew how much you loved them.
I didn’t even need to know them to tell you that, seeing the man you are.
I know they felt every bit of your love for them,” I declare, needing him to understand, to see how I see him.
His brows dip, mouth pursing slightly as his eyes flick back and forth between mine, almost as if he doesn’t quite believe my words. I hold steady, not wanting him to doubt me, even if the close stare makes me itch and want to pluck out my eyeballs. I can bear this moment because it’s important.
“Thank you,” he croaks, hoarse and thick. It’s inappropriate, but the gravel in his voice skates down my spine and settles low in my pelvis.
Shit, now is not the time to have any sort of heat there.
Dropping my eyes, my throat feels jagged as I swallow. “You’re welcome,” I whisper, hoping he can’t notice the flush I can feel creeping up my cheeks. But he doesn’t let me avoid him. He nudges his fingertips under my chin, lifting my face up to his.
“You make it so easy to bare everything to you, Rosy. It’s almost dizzying, the relief to be able to talk to someone about the darker parts of me and know that you see me.”
My breath catches at his words, watching as he leans in, closing the distance between us. My lungs strain as I hold still.
“I feel as though I could drown myself in you, to confess every little thought and desire.”
My head nods, the movement halted by his fingers still curled around my chin, but I don’t want him to stop whispering his words; I don’t want him to stop this moment.
Please don’t stop. Never stop.
“Knowing you would keep it safe behind those soft, pretty lips.” He’s so close his mouth brushes against mine with every word he breathes out.
“Always,” I finally manage to say, head light and dizzy.
His lips push against mine, almost as if he’s trying to seal the promise, make it unbreakable. A part of my soul for a part of his.
My heart skips, because this is Bry. Sweet, caring Bry. And his mouth is on mine. Cementing us together, and there’s no turning back after this. It means I’m jumping all in, throwing all caution out as I risk everything.
And shit, is it everything.
He’s soft, gentle but sure.
The feel of his kiss pulls me back.
His thumb brushes along my jaw, and he savours me, dipping in and tasting me, gentle and probing.
The comforting smell of spiced baked goods surrounds me as I swallow his groan of satisfaction and slide my tongue along his.
He pulls back far sooner than I want him to, lingering before he flicks his tongue over my lips.
My heart’s still racing from finally having his mouth on mine; it takes me a second to calm it down before I glance up and see the smouldering look on his face.
“I’ve imagined what it would be like to kiss you so many times, but it’s never been as perfect as this,” he confesses, fingers trailing down the side of my neck before dropping down and tugging my hand in his, linking us together.
“We’re in a car, and I’m delivering food to people. How bad is your imagination if this is what you consider perfect?”
But I’m unable to erase the smile that’s beaming across my face.
His laugh is buttery warm, both rich and filling as it falls easily from him. I squirm slightly in my seat, a little embarrassed his laugh is doing things to me. Leaning forward, he kisses the tip of my nose, then drops a lingering kiss on my lips.
“The time and place don’t matter, only that I’m here with you, Rosy.”
There are definitely feelings happening right now. A lot of them. They’re swirling and racing around inside me. It’s confusing, dizzying, but I don’t care.
The conversation with Max hurt. But I don’t want that to weigh me down anymore. I…I really want to spend more time with Noah, Nate, and Bry.
So shit, I guess that means I’m going along for the ride, for once.