Chapter 34 #2
I am not going to cry and make a scene. I need distraction.
Ryan lets out a throaty laugh. I feel a warm blanket fall over our legs and he bends closer, his breath washes over my face.
My body prickles with anticipation again.
My body and heart didn’t get the memo yet, they still seem to react in their own wanton way every time Ryan comes in close proximity.
I feel his long rough fingers tuck a tendril of my hair behind my ear, and then his soft lips brush over as he kisses my forehead tenderly, as if I am a delicate piece of art and he might break me if he touches me too much.
He moves away quickly and is back at his station massaging my feet and my calf muscles.
Two kisses and a friendship treaty, accompanied by a foot massage, in the last hour.
God. This is hard.
Friendship sucks ass.
I should drink more to avoid feeling like shit and embrace this. For fuck’s sake, what the hell is this? Companionship? Amity? I have no idea how to do this.
He switches on the television and Ghostbusters, the movie, comes on.
“I think you can watch this one without getting scared? Remember the last time when we watched a movie together?” He smirks.
Asshole.
Does he need to keep reminding me of what I can’t have anymore?
“Sure can.” Opening my eyes, I take a large gulp of alcohol.
“Babe, you should eat.” There is concern in his voice as he brings some steamed rice in front of my mouth. “Open. You can’t sleep hungry.”
He is so fucking worried that I am going to puke on his couch.
Yes, it has to be his couch. He can’t be so deeply concerned for a friend.
Yuck! I hate that word. Friend. Definition: consolation prize when the man you love doesn’t love you back.
“Boys are stupid. I’m done with men and relationships,” I say, as the steamed rice he places in my mouth heats down my esophagus.
“Why do you say that? Did something happen? Is it Brent?” He tenses again.
“Dude. Keep Brent out of our shit.”
“Stop calling me dude.”
“Stop calling me babe.”
“You’re fighting again.”
“Friends fight, Ryan. FRIENDS FIGHT. What they don’t do is give each other forehead kisses or leg rubs. They don’t feed each other. This is creepy. You love your couch. I get it. I need some boundaries, okay. This is all too much and I’m overwhelmed with what this is. What this means.”
I am screaming. The dam is broken. My frustrations are out in the open. It’s not a pretty scene. But I am miraculously not crying. Somehow my tears have been delayed and my misery is replaced with anger.
Fuck-His-Friendship.
I gulp down the entire bottle of liquor in two short swigs before he can pull it out of my hands.
“We didn’t discuss boundaries the last time. Why change things now? I like things the way they are,” he says in a controlled tone.
Wow. Now he decides to be the voice of reason. So calm and collected. He deserves a fucking medal for putting things into prospective.
Deep breaths. I take multiple deep breaths as my head begins to spin. I drank that drink too fast. “Last time was a mistake. If you want my friendship then it will be on my terms from now on.”
There is the small tic on his jaw. His eyes drift to the glare coming from the television as he lets go of my feet and switches his position, facing away from me. “We’ll discuss when you are sober. Can we eat? I haven’t eaten anything since this morning.”
Immediately guilt washes over me. He is trying to make my stay comfortable.
I can at least be grateful for it. I am not a manipulative person.
I don’t want to play games. I am cranky and whiny because I didn’t get my wish, that things didn’t go the way I had planned.
I don’t want to end this on a bad note where I can’t even look him in the eye tomorrow.
I will apologize and leave first thing in the morning.
We sit in silence and pretend to eat. He doesn’t eat much and I pick on my noodles, only because I know this meal is expensive and he paid for it. The air is tense and we both avoid eye contact on purpose. I don’t drink anymore but I am very drowsy already. I notice he hasn’t touched his drink yet.
My eyelids get heavy and they close without warning. I yawn and my head leans on the couch. A new wave of pain slashes through me. This could be my last night with him and I am wasting it fighting. I am ruining a night, what is possibly our last meal together, sitting alone in the quiet.
“I am sorry for overreacting,” I whisper with my eyes still shut.
“You have a right to be angry.” He takes the bowl away that I am balancing on my lap. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I don’t move, I don’t think I can. My body feels sluggish. My eyes won’t open, even if I try. He lifts me up and cradles me to his chest, my arms go around his neck. I don’t need to see him to drape myself in his arms. It’s like my body knows how to fit in with his.
He carries me to his bed and covers me with a blanket. I hold my breath when I feel his lips linger on my forehead. He delays and I think he won’t do it.
I won’t get this last kiss because I managed to screw this up. But disturbingly and tragically, I want this kiss. I want to feel his lips one more time so I can encase this intimate, yet chaste, memory and relive it again and again.
I feed on memories of us to survive.
His lips touch my forehead and I sigh with relief.
He sighs too. Maybe because he knows that tomorrow won’t be the same for either of us.
“Ryan,” I call his name. My tongue feels like lead.
“Hmm?” His thumb traces my cheeks.
“It’s good, you know, that you were never in love with me,” I slur out each word, feeling the burn as the true meaning whips out of me, bruising and gutting me where everything felt wonderful and endearing once.
The truth is cruel as it clasps its claws around my heart.
He never loved me.
A lone tear rolls down my cheek.
Traitor!
Couldn’t it wait until he left the room?
I hear his breathing accelerate. I feel his fingers grab my chin aggressively and his other hand runs into my hair. His lips come so close to my mouth.
“What did you say?” I hear him bark. “Ishika!”
He whispers a line of curses, burying his face in my hair, and it feels so good when he holds me close.
Then absolute darkness follows.