Only my life is not a hilarious sitcom.
Reality sucks.
“What?” A shuffling noise comes through the line. “Wait, Reed, hold on a minute. Stop.”
He grumbles, low and annoyed-sounding, then I hear his gruff voice ask an impatient, “Who is it?”
Most likely against some body-part of Beth’s.
“Oh, crap. Am I interrupting honeymoon time?” I ask, wincing away from the shower. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. You’re fine,” she assures me before whispering, “It’s your sister.”
“She can call back,” Reed says.
“I can call back,” I echo.
“What do you mean, you weren’t really broken up?” Beth asks, ignoring us both. “So, you and Richard are still together? Is that what you want? You guys have been fighting a lot.”
“Just because of the whole job thing,” I reply quickly. “I want to be with him. I love him. I just . . . feel really terrible.”
“Why?”
I bite my lip. “Uh . . .”
Beth doesn’t know about my weekend with CJ. Nobody knows. Reed sure as hell doesn’t. And if I discuss this with Beth right now, there’s a chance he could overhear every single detail of my unfaithfulness.
And then go after CJ . . .
And get his ass beat.
I rush out a breath. “Nothing. I don’t know. I just, wish I would’ve clarified our situation before I left.” I try and peer at my reflection again, to see the guilt on my face, but condensation clouds the mirror. I rub at the dampness beading up on my neck.
“I don’t think you have any reason to feel terrible, Riley.”
I close my eyes. You have no idea what I’ve done.
“And you’re not Ross,” she laughs. “Ross messed up big time.”
I wince. My heart grows ten times heavier.
Beth giggles away from the phone, and says something I can’t make out to my brother.
They’re in love. Blissfully married and in honeymoon mode.
And I’m interrupting them.
“Okay. Go get back to whatever you were doing. I’ll talk to you later.”
We end the call with my new sister smiling through her farewell. I can’t. Fresh tears well up in my eyes.
Then I finally strip and get my butt in the shower.
I have Tully charm to wash off.
I TOSS A few steaks into my cart, having finally decided on dinner, then head for the checkout so I can get out of here and get home to cook up some food.
The way Food Giant is laid out, if I’m coming from the meat department I gotta cut through produce to get to the front of the store. Normally that isn’t a problem. What the fuck do I care? I like produce.
But today, when I turn the corner and catch sight of Riley standing near a crate that happens to be in the path I'm heading, it becomes a problem.
A major fucking problem.
Fuck. You gotta be shitting me.
Two years of living in Ruxton and not once do I remember ever seeing this girl around.
Yeah, I missed an opportunity a year ago. But shit, that doesn’t even count, considering I don’t remember it. And for some fucked in the head reason, I didn’t even look at her during that run-in, but other than that? Not once have I ever seen Riley. Not on my lunch break when I was grabbing a sandwich. Not while I was shopping for food. Nowhere. Hell, I’ve spent most of my two years here not knowing she even existed. Even after I knew about her, I still never saw her around.
Ruxton isn’t heavily populated. It’s a small town. You remember faces. And anyone living and breathing sure as hell would remember hers.
Sweet face like that, with those eyes and the way she burns you up with them, you gotta be blind not to notice.
But aside from that one time, I was never given the opportunity.
Two years of not knowing. Not even so much as a glance in her direction. Then I spend a weekend with my dick buried inside Riley Tennyson and now I’m suddenly running into her at supermarkets? What the fuck is this shit?
Stopping a few feet away, I grip the cart with one hand and rake my other down my face, scrubbing over the stubble coating my jaw.
I’m supposed to be friends with this girl. That’s what she wants. And when friends run into each other at supermarkets they say shit to one another. They don’t contemplate ducking out and going unseen, which is exactly what I’m doing.
Only this is different. I’ve touched Riley. Tasted her. A taste I’m not expecting to forget any time soon. A taste I want more of, no matter if she's available to give it to me or not. Don't care. I can't turn it off.
And I sure as fuck don’t want to be friends with her. Not after everything we’ve done.
So what do I do when she throws this option at me after taking away everything else? I agree to it. Not knowing what the hell I’m in for but figuring it can’t be all that bad.
She wants to be friends? Sure. Why the fuck not?
Phone calls I can handle. Texts, probably. As long as she isn't trying to work me up with one. But face-to-face time?
Motherfucker.
Should’ve thought this through.
I can easily retreat. There’s still time. She hasn’t seen me yet, and chances are I can make it out of the store before she notices me at all.
But the kicker is, I want to talk to her. I enjoy it. Riley is a good fucking time.
And seeing her right now?
Yeah . . . I still want it.
I just need to decide if this is the right play for me, knowing damn well how bad I’ll want to do more than just talk.
I stare at Riley's profile as I debate backing away and retreating to another aisle.
Her hair is up off her neck, tied up in a messy knot with a few blond pieces falling out and tucked behind her ear. She’s wearing hospital scrubs. Dark blue ones. Stormy like her eyes after she comes.
Those blue flames.
Jesus.
Never seen eyes like hers.
What she’s wearing isn’t showing her shape but it doesn’t need to. I know Riley’s shape. I’ve felt it with my hands, gentle and with urgency. I’ve touched and grabbed and palmed. I know how it presses and curls into me when she’s sleepy from sex.
And knowing everything I know, I shouldn’t still be standing here, staring and allowing memories to trigger. I should be making my way to the checkout and getting the fuck gone.