Chapter 34
Ishika
Ryan’s apartment is on the thirteenth floor of a charming vintage building in the center of a busy suburb.
We went to a Japanese place to pick up dinner: chicken katsu and spicy udon soup and some Asashi beer and sake.
We took a cab to his apartment after that and now I am standing in front of an arched white doorway.
He does a quick job of unlocking the door with his key and glances back at me as he pushes the door open with his shoulder.
His head tilts in a subtle jerk that says, “Get in.”
I walk in first and find myself in a living area which is sparsely decorated.
It’s small, modest, and cozy. The floors are white tiles and there is one glass window with no curtains or blinds on it.
I can see the rain drizzle on the glass.
There are two couches, a big, round metal table, and a large flat-screen television.
That’s all the furniture in this room. The kitchen is small and the counter is scattered with carryout menus.
The stove next to a double-door fridge looks unused and brand-new.
“You get carryout a lot?” I ask, stacking the menus to the side. I need something to do with my hands. All of a sudden, it’s just him and me alone in this tight contained space.
“My roommate likes to try new places to eat.”
“I like your apartment. Did Owen get to see it yet?”
“Not yet. Owen’s been busy with work,” he says, walking toward the bedroom.
“This one is my room. The next door is my roommate’s.
There’s a bathroom next to his bedroom but I have my own en suite bathroom in here.
You don’t have to leave the room in the middle of the night and risk walking into strangers. ”
His room is spotless and the full-sized bed is neat. The blankets line the bottom of the bed. This room smells of Ryan.
I am picturing him spread out on this bed in his boxers.
Scratch that.
I am picturing him in his bed naked.
Drool Alert!
Next, I picture myself next to him.
What would he do if I jumped on his bed right now and did a spread-eagle pose for him? The image makes my toes curl. I am glad he can’t see them because I have on my shoes.
Biting my lip, I turn away from the tempting bed.
“Why don’t you freshen up and meet me on the couch?” he says, avoiding my eyes and walking out as if he can’t stand staying with me in the same room.
I am confused. Why is he giving me mixed signals?
I am going to talk to him. I am going to show him with my actions how much I love him.
How much I missed him. Maybe he isn’t ready to hear those three words today but I can always ease into things.
Maybe I should ask him if he’s looking for another roommate because I like Chicago enough to relocate already.
Yes, that’s exactly what I am going to tell him.
After I get rid of my jacket, I enter his bathroom and clean myself everywhere, because what if we have sex tonight.
I open the top two buttons of my navy blue dress shirt and two buttons at the bottom so that I can tie a knot at my waist, making my belly button visible.
My stomach isn’t exactly flat washboard abs, but I am not ashamed of a little fat on my waist. I am wearing skinny jeans and my ass is accentuated.
I contemplate if I must go braless or not and then decide that the bra will stay.
Ryan liked me the way I am the last time.
My black lacy bra gives me the courage to go out and conquer my man.
I readjust and jiggle my breasts, pushing them up so they appear to be peeking out of my shirt.
I mean a little bit of cleavage kills nobody.
He needs a reminder of what he has been missing out on. Then I let down my hair, which was earlier in a ponytail, and let it fall loose on my shoulders.
I feel confident, powerful, and in control.
As I walk out of his bedroom, I find Ryan setting out bowls and cutlery on the metal table. The lights are dim and he has soft instrumental music on.
He sees me and stops doing whatever it is. His eyes rove over my body, taking in my hips, my breasts, and my lips.
“You look different,” he says, frowning and looking uncomfortable.
“Really? Oh, it must be my lips, I used some lip gloss. This one tastes good too. It’s cherry flavored.”
His gaze drops to my lips and stays there for five seconds.
Five freaking seconds.
Then he clears his throat and looks away.
Nicely done, Ishika. Very nicely done. I mentally give myself a pat on the back.
“Sit. Are you hungry?” he asks.
“Starving, actually.”
See, I can be subtle.
He hands me a bowl of noodle soup and the Japanese beer that he said pairs excellently with the food.
I take a sip and let the liquor stay on my tongue before gulping it down. It’s smooth and a little stronger than I expected. My stomach is empty, I feel the kick as the warm liquid fills my tummy.
“Eat,” he orders, picking up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks and placing it in front of my mouth.
Opening my mouth, I take the food in and chew.
“So I have a proposition,” he starts.
“What kind?” My nerves shoot up.
“About things that involve us.”
The anticipation is driving me crazy. Just rip off my shirt or let me rip yours.
Then we can do dirty things to each other.
“About our friendship. I want to renegotiate the terms of our friendship,” he adds.
WHAT!
FREINDSHIP?
NO!
No.no.no.
What is wrong with him? What friendship? Why friendship?
“Don’t look so surprised. We used to be good friends once, before we decided to part ways. Our friendship still has potential. You said to me that night that we would still be friends. I would still have your friendship. I want to be certain that you still are good on those terms.”
What. The. Fuck.
I am being friend zoned.
“Oh!” I know what night he is talking about. I told him I can give him friendship and that’s all I have. I did tell him that, didn’t I?
“I’ve missed you, Ishika. Your friendship is important to me. You are important to me. I wanted to come back and talk to you, but life got in the way. I have been a shitty friend but I’m willing to change that. I’m happy for you.”
He is happy for me because he thinks I am with Brent still.
Fuck!
Can someone ban the word friendship? I never want to hear that word again.
A tornado of emotions swirls in my gut. I feel sick.
It’s a sharp stab of agony mixed with vulnerability.
But Ryan is waiting for my answer, with so much hope in his eyes, it makes me pause and see how he is being so selfless and forgiving.
He forgave me for my betrayal. He really wants me to extend an olive branch.
He wants my signature on a peace treaty so we can call it a truce and move on with our lives.
I mean, he is letting me know he doesn’t want me as anything more than a friend. I successfully wiped out any chance I had with him when I said I chose Brent. When I stole that USB drive.
My throat clogs up and my nose becomes red and stuffy as I feel shortness of breath. I struggle to form an intelligent sentence. I know my tears will follow soon if I don’t stop it right now.
I throw myself at Ryan and hug him tight. He stiffens at first but then wraps his arms around me.
“Let’s be friends again, Ryan. I would like that,” I say with every bit of truth, as I will my tears to not fall.
At least one of us is happy. Ryan smiles wide, his eyes shining as I look up. And then he kisses the tip of my nose.
“I’m taking the day off tomorrow. I’ll be your personal tour guide. I found this wood-fire pizza place you’ll love. You got to try it,” he says, releasing me from his hold.
I nod and plaster on a fake smile, even though my heart crumbles down to the pits of gloom.
I gulp down two bottles of Asahi one after the other and then grab the sake that sits next to the table.
My head suddenly spins, but who cares. The sooner I get drunk, the sooner I can pass out and stop this pain in my chest.
“Babe, you should eat first,” Ryan says, looking suspiciously at the drink in my hand.
“Dude. Let me drink. What kind of shitty friend are you if you don’t even let me get pissed? Relax, friienddd, I’m more fun when I am not sooobeerrr! And you aren’t my mother so stop acting like one.”
I am slurring.
Great.
His face falls, his mouth tightens in a hard line. He puts down his food on the table, turning toward me, “What’s going on with you?”
Like I owe him an explanation for breaking my heart, for ruining my epic love story, for destroying my happily ever after.
“Chill. I won’t throw up on youurrr couch.” I tone down my anger to not come off as a bitch. “I want to relax. Last few months were hectic.”
He gives me a soft smile of understanding and bends down to grab my legs up.
“What are you doing?” My voice is shrill as I protest, but he ignores me.
My slurring turns into moaning when his magic fingers roam on my calf muscles.
“Shh. I’m not going anywhere. We are doing this correctly this time and I won’t let anything come in my way,” he says, pulling my feet into his lap and removing my socks.
He sits back into the couch, his back resting on the armrest and mine resting on the opposite side, facing each other.
His long legs bracket my own, his feet pushing into my hips.
Then with his sexy big hands he begins kneading my feet.
His touch makes my tummy flutter, my cheeks warm, and my toes curl, and this time he can see them.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Relax, come on, say it. Say you love my hands on you.” His tone is full of mischief. His voice is low, rumbly, and delicious.
I moan and throw back my head. “Dude, I’m willing to replace Sadie and make you my best friend if you continue this treatment. I mean free board, free food, and now a massage. What else could a girl want?” I say, closing my eyes.
LOVE. This girl wants love. Love from her ex-boyfriend. The same one who was her temporary pretend boyfriend once.