Which begs the question: Will we ever return to normal?
I need to talk to her about it, but not today. I’m too off-kilter today. I would probably make an ass out of myself. Correction: I will make an ass out of myself. The cosmic Magic 8-Ball has spoken. The universe is gleefully fucking with me, and the overflowing coffee mug is just one example of how.
“I knew things weren’t going my way when that file was corrupted first thing this morning,” I grumble, mentally cursing the universe as I help her clean up spilled coffee.
“Is Mercury in retrograde?”
“I can’t blame Mercury for the coffee incident. I zoned out and pressed the brew button twice.” I hold out my hand to take the soggy paper towel from her. “Stupid.”
Our fingers brush and pure electricity skitters up my forearm. My chest tightens and expands before tightening again. I can’t blame Mercury for that either. I don’t know what the hell to blame. I don’t know if there is anything to blame on anyone. She still works here. She’s still my best friend. What the hell am I upset about? Like she said, I have my cake and I’m eating it too.
The thought makes me feel more confused and less grounded than before.
“If it doesn’t stop raining, we’re going to have to skip our run,” she says. I turn to the window where the delicate summer raindrops fatten and pick up speed.
“I’m up for a skip day. God knows what’ll happen if I go outside. Twisted ankle? Heart attack? Sinkhole that swallows the entire park?”
“Very unlikely,” she responds easily. I’m starting to think she’s A-okay with everything and I’m the one wigging out. “As your coach, I will remind you that regular exercise is good for your heart and your mind.” She taps her temple.
I can’t resist pulling a reaction out of her. I wind one of her curls around my finger. “Coach? I thought you went by Firecracker now.”
“Coach works too.” Her smile wobbles, and it’s not as sincere as she’d like me to believe. She’s not A-okay at all. She’s not herself, but to be fair, I’m not myself.
I’m not sure we can blame that on Mercury, either.
* * *
Cris
I have been wearing noise-canceling headphones for the last two and a half hours. I am working, but I definitely don’t need complete silence to do it. What I need is a break from the strange vibe buzzing between Benji and me.
I’m not sure where it came from. Sure, the discussion at Club Nine wasn’t the most comfortable one, but afterward we found our rhythm fine. The sex was great that night and the following morning, no surprise there. I didn’t plan on staying over, but once we were snuggled in bed after wearing each other out, and Benji had turned on the TV hanging over his dresser, I couldn’t motivate myself to leave. Especially knowing I would have to put on those damn shoes to do it.
Leaving on Sunday wasn’t like I imagined. I didn’t expect to do the walk of shame, but I did expect to feel at least slightly uncomfortable. Not so. We lay in bed, he brought me coffee, and then I drove home to do some housework. Come Monday I was convinced my worrying was for naught. Until I showed up and said hi to Benji. He was sitting at his desk like normal, but the way he looked at me before jerking his gaze away and mumbling “good morning” was anything but normal.
The awkward trend is continuing today, and for some reason it’s making my skin itch. Well, not for some reason, but for a very obvious reason I’m trying not to acknowledge. Even noise-canceling headphones can’t shut out the worry that I let the proverbial Siamese out of the sack.
Have I been acting like I’m in love with Benji? I have racked my brain and sifted through every conversation we’ve had over the last three days. Oddly enough, sex is the Switzerland of our relationship. The intimacy is there, but we transition out of bed and back in again without encountering any emotional landmines. Things just…go well. They start great and end phenomenally. I’ve had the orgasms to prove it.
So what’s up with him being so not-Benji today? Yes, the corrupted file was irritating, but Josie was able to send most of the information in an older file, and he and I have been working all day to fill in the information we lost. I heard him on his video chat earlier. At one point he totally lost the thread of the conversation and asked Josie to repeat herself. He never does that.
Then there was the fleeting eye contact. More than once his gaze slid away from me only to return and slide away again. That wasn’t normal for him. He likes eye contact. I like having eye contact with him. It’s probably how we grew so close so quickly. There weren’t a lot of boundaries between us in the beginning. How odd now that there are almost none, to have a gap the size of the Grand Canyon keeping us from relating to each other.
I don’t get it.
I pull off my headphones and hear him talking on the phone in his office. His voice is low, gentle. Almost a murmur. Almost a romantic murmur.
I shouldn’t listen. Eavesdropping is rude in any situation. Except for work, I justify. What if there is another problem with the file? As his life assistant coach, isn’t it my job to anticipate his needs?
Yes. Yes it is.
I practically leap out of my chair and then linger in my doorway. His voice rolls down the short corridor between our offices. I quickly conclude he’s not on a business call, but I can’t make myself return to my desk.
“Of course I’ll come. Was there ever a question I wouldn’t?” Definitely his tender voice. I know it well as he’s used it with me a lot. “You don’t have to apologize for what happened last year.” He pauses and then says, “I mean it, Trish. Don’t think another thing about it. We were who we were. And now we are who we are. Sometimes things happen to bring people together. Maybe this is one of them.”
My back hits the wall, and I have to fight not to sag down it and curl my arms around my knees. I was in his bed two days ago and now Trish is calling and he’s speaking to her with his tender voice about…getting back together? Why is he being so damn nice instead of telling her no?
There’s only one answer. Because he’s not telling her no.