It’s hard telling myself that Yvie and I are just friends and that we’re not a couple. From the outside, I’m sure that’s all we look like, but according to my phone bill over ninety percent of my calls, both incoming and outgoing, are with her. We’ve logged who knows how many hours on video chat and she’s my first and last text message of each and every day. It’d be stupid of me to try and push her to define what we are, though. My hope is that when she’s ready, she’ll tell me. My fear, however, is that when she says she’s ready, it will be with someone else. I have to find a way to get out of this friend zone and more into the “this is the guy I’m seeing” zone, even if we do live thousands of miles away.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve learned so much about Yvie James. I know her best friend, Lindsay, hates Oliver (secretly I do, too) and is encouraging Yvie to find a different production to perform in. She doesn’t ask for my opinion, and I’m okay with that. I can’t act like I’m jealous because she has to spend every day with her ex-boyfriend/producer douche, even though I am. It’s her job, just as my job as a personal trainer puts me in contact with a lot of very nice looking females. Those females don’t hold a candle to Yvie, though, and as many times as I’ve told her that, I can still hear the jealousy in her voice. It’s a hazard of both our jobs, and probably a hang up for the both of us. It’s definitely something we’d need to overcome if we were to make this official.
I want to make us official, but not while we’re living apart. I can’t ask her to move, and uprooting my life here doesn’t seem feasible. I’ve established a reputable business, not to mention my commitment to JD’s recovery. His recent scare with his chest pains has me concerned. Not that I’d share those concerns with him. Leaving here doesn’t make sense in my eyes, and Yvie moving here likely doesn’t make sense in hers. I’m afraid that she and I are both in limbo, hanging on by a thread in the friend zone.
As I look out, people are bundled up to ward off the mid-winter chill. Ice skaters move by café windows, showing off their talents for all those who sit inside and watch. My skates are on and laced up and my pea coat buttoned up. Jenna said I needed this coat and that my sweatshirt wouldn’t cut it if I’m going to try to fit in. I don’t want to fit in, but I don’t want to be an embarrassment either.
The horn sounds telling the ice skaters to leave the ice and my nerves start to take over. I’ve never done anything like this, something spontaneous and so forthcoming. I’m either going to walk away a happy man for a few days, or with my tail between my legs. Ask me last week and I could have assured you that I was doing the right thing. Ask me right now and I’ll tell you that my legs are shaking, and my knees are knocking together.
The next session of skaters move out onto the ice under the night sky. As I step out of the café, I can’t help but feel the magic. The holidays are over, but the rink and outer areas are still fully alive with life and color.
I spot Yvie easily, thanks to Lindsay’s stealth planning. The day I got an email from Lindsay about Yvie, I knew I had to do something drastic, yet endearing, so she knows that I want to be in this for the long haul if she’s willing. Lindsay found me through my website and filled me in on how much Yvie is missing me. For the first time, I felt my hope soar that Yvie and I could have a future. I never went as far to ask for details because I didn’t want Lindsay to betray Yvie’s confidence, but the message was received loud and clear. Lindsa
y and I worked together to get me to New York.
Pulling out my phone, I text Yvie.
What’re you doing tonight?
I see the exact moment she takes out her phone. Her skates slow down and she removes one of her gloves to text me back. If the ice rink were more crowded, I’d be in trouble.
Tiny Dancer: Nothing :( just hanging with Lindsay. You?
Her text stabs me deep because there are so many times I wanted to tell her my plans, but the girls told me to keep it a secret. They all said the surprise would be worth it.
As soon as Yvie and Lindsay skate by, I step out onto the ice and head to the center. I’ve had this grand scheme mapped out for weeks, but I’ll be damned if I remember what I’m supposed to be doing. Lindsay has a part and for the love of all things holy I hope she remembers. When I see Yvie again, her face is down and she’s moving along with the crowd. The smile she had earlier is gone and I can’t help but hope it’s because we’re not together.
I look around and see that I’m not the only guy standing in the center. Apparently my idea isn’t as original as I thought, but I can’t change it now. Lindsay sees me in position and directs Yvie to the spot where I’m standing and bumps her shoulder. When Yvie looks up, her mouth drops open as her hand quickly covers it. Her beautiful eyes are now filling with unshed tears and she starts to shake her head. I stand there, speechless, extending to her a single red rose. There are more roses, red and white ones, covering her apartment thanks to Charles, her doorman, and Lindsay.
“Yvie, will you be my Valentine?” I ask her, my voice breaking. There’s a moment of silence when she doesn’t say anything, and it feels like time has stopped while I wait for her reaction.
“Say yes!” someone yells and she sort of laughs and coughs at the same time.
Yvie pulls her hand away and reaches for me. “What are you doing here?” her voice breaks and teeters between excitement and dare I say tears, albeit happy ones.
I shake my head. “Well, it’s a holiday and we’ve spent all our holidays together. I couldn’t let one get skipped, now could I?”
Yvie slides her arms around my waist and buries her head into my scarf. I hate that I’m wearing it because I want to feel her against my skin. I hold her to me, basking in these few minutes that I can have her in my arms again.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Yvie tells me as she lifts her head. She places her hands, one freezing cold and the other gloved, on my cheeks and holds my gaze. “I know I shouldn’t say it, but I’ve missed you.” Before I can respond, her lips press against mine. She moves against me with such urgency, with such need that I choose to let her guide us. When she deepens the kiss, I pull her as tight as I can, eager to feel her against my body. The catcalls cause me to pull away. She lives and works here, and doesn’t need to be recognized as that woman who made out on the ice rink.
“What’d you say we take this someplace else?” I ask, hoping that she says her place since that’s where all my stuff is.
“My apartment isn’t far; we could walk. It’s a nice night out.”
I look up and see how bright everything is in the night sky. The lights of Manhattan could guide you anywhere. Thoughts of holding her hand while we walk the streets flash through my mind. It’s something I want to do. “That sounds great.”
Yvie doesn’t let go of my hand or my arm throughout our walk to her apartment. Every few feet, she stops and pulls me in for a kiss or we stop and she talks about a church or tells me what building we’re passing. As much as I want to explore Manhattan, there’s time for that later. Besides, she’s far more interesting. Tonight, I want to hold her, sit on her couch with my arm wrapped around her shoulder while she nestles into me. Tomorrow, I’ll happily follow her around as she gives me a tour of the city she loves.
She stands on the first step leading to her apartment building and rests her hands on the back of my neck. The look in her eyes is one of excitement and, I hope, longing. I can only hope my features match hers.
“I can’t believe you’re here. Are you real?”
“I’m real. I can show you later if you’d like.” My eyebrows dance, earning an eye roll from her but also a wicked little smile.
“Come on, let’s go inside. I have a nice warm apartment that I want you to see.” I was pleasantly surprised at how much like Yvie her apartment is. The moment I stepped in, I knew she lived there. I don’t know what I expected, but when I walked in it felt like I was wrapped in her arms. Her place is quaint and perfect for a single person. The colors on her walls are warm and inviting. Her shelves and walls are adorned with photos of her dancing and of her family. There are a lot of pictures of her with the band, with her and Harrison, but mostly of her and Quinn.
Once inside the building, she walks us up to the front desk.