Ren

JANUARY 30, 2010

Almost two months have passed since my birthday. I haven't seen Gio at work, and I found a new place to dance. I haven't tried to look for him. I haven't phoned or texted or searched his name. I'm pretty darn proud of myself. But to say I've completely erased him from my mind would be a lie.

At a bare minimum, he still crosses my mind at least twice a day. I'll catch myself dressing up with him in mind for work on the off chance I run into him, though I still never have, and I'm embarrassed to admit I almost always think about him as I fall asleep. I dream of finding him, knocking on his door, and talking to him about everything that happened—feeling him again in my arms, his soft kiss on my lips.

But that's my hopeless heart whispering those wishes, still trying to cause trouble. My conscious mind squashes those thoughts as quickly as possible. We're moving on. 

In fact, I'm finally going on a date again with the least offensive guy who has been interested in me since moving here (since I'm not about to try internet dating again anytime soon.) You guessed it—it's Bryce.

After that night at the club, I held him off for a long time, but he's been friendly and patient, if not a touch persistent, in an eye-rolling yet heart-melting, adorable way. And believe me, when I say—I think I've finally had enough Saturday nights alone these last two months.

Okay, okay, AND it's Gio's birthday on Sunday. So I'm going to be trying really hard not to text him 'Happy Birthday.' My plan is a date with Bryce on Saturday will take my mind off accidentally drunk texting him—which I just might do if I'm drinking wine and watching some sort of romantic movie by myself at home.

Bryce is picking me up in ten minutes, and I'm almost ready. We are going to In Bocca Al Lupo, the hot new restaurant in town. It's a late dinner—8:00 pm, but it's the only time we could get. As I stand in front of my closet, I smile to myself as I realize this is the perfect opportunity to wear one of my favorite dresses from New York, which is now just collecting dust in the back of my closet.

I pull out my dark green one-shoulder dress that is somehow both romantic and edgy and match it with sexy 4" stiletto ankle boots. I had actually spent real time on my hair tonight and curled it into a relaxed wave and a dramatic side part. I check myself out in my closet mirror.

Damn, I look good—if I don't say so myself.

As we enter the restaurant, I'm definitely impressed. It's a historic building in Old Town with exposed brick walls and wood ceiling joists. The lighting is moody with a dim amber glow, but the lights themselves are beautiful, glass balls hung at different heights like floating orbs. I think it's the most dramatic interior design I've seen since New York. I briefly wonder what the bathrooms look like, as the best-designed restaurants in New York also have the coolest-looking bathrooms.

We are led to a section in the middle with curved C-shaped dark brown leather booths. I slide in on one side, and Bryce slides in on the other. He looks perfect tonight in a crisp, light-colored shirt and black blazer. His hair is styled, and his blue eyes twinkle at me over the table as I pick up my menu. It's pretty traditional Italian food, but I've heard how fresh and delicious it is, and my mouth starts to water as I look over the entrees.

"You want to share some Bruschetta?" His dimples pop, fetching out my smile.

"Yeah, that sounds great."

We discuss what we're having and decide to split a bottle of wine. The waiter comes over, and I let Bryce order the appetizer and wine. While he's asking questions to the waiter, my eyes wander the space again, it has a great vibe. I can see why it's so popular.

I feel a pull to look across the aisle from me, and my eyes settle on the booth, two down on the opposite side and a familiar profile with dark hair. It was only a second since my eyes landed on him, but he felt my look like I had tapped him on the shoulder, and now his hazel eyes are sliding straight over and crashing hard into mine.

 My stomach drops, and I feel a prickling of pain in my heart. Crap, Gio! Not again.

I can only slightly register that he's with a group of four people before I flash my eyes away.

You've got to be fucking kidding me!

I fix my eyes on my menu, but I can just sense him staring at me, so I take a big gulp of my wine and agitate on it more. Why is he here, of all places? Then, shaking my head. Duh. It's his birthday, he loves Italian food, and this is obviously the place to be.

"What do you think you'll order?" 

"Hmm? Oh yes." Crap. Now would be a good time to actually READ the menu.  "Um, I'm not sure yet... uh, the butternut ravioli looks good, or maybe the pappardelle with pork and mushrooms... What about you?"

"I'm thinking the campanelle." I don't make eye contact with him, but I can hear in his tone that he's laughing silently at my scattered response. "I heard it's really good."

Oh god! What if Bryce notices Gio?  

Bryce is facing away from their table, so unless he turns around, I'm safe, I just have to stop looking over there and acting like a weirdo. The waiter comes back to take our dinner order, and I'm trying my hardest not to look at Gio, but I just can never help myself. While Bryce is busy with the waiter, I quickly glance up and over.

Phew, he's not looking at me. But then a wave of jealousy courses through me as I realize he's on a double date with two smoking hot blond girls and... Charlie?!

I haven't seen Charlie since that day at the beach, and obviously, they're still friends. I scrutinize the girls they are with. The one next to Gio is so pretty. Damn, Gio looks good tonight—a black collared shirt hugs his shoulders just right. He's done something different with his hair—must be freshly cut. God, his scruffy jawline is so sexy...

"Hey, did you see we just won that new project for the Clippers," Bryce beams.

"What?" I say, snapping to the realization that I'm still on my date with Bryce. "Oh, no, I didn't hear yet. Wow, Bryce. That's big," I say, my eyes twinkling. Putting on a big, but hopefully not too fake smile, hoping Gio will notice what fun I'm having.

"I'm so relieved. I totally helped win it, too. Cheryl might even give me a bonus from it!" Bryce looks so pumped.

"That's amazing. Congratulations. Cheers!" and I raise my glass. He beams at me, and I give a dazzling smile back, clinking glasses as we drink to his success. I flick my eyes to Gio, and he's glaring at me, then I flick them straight back to Bryce.

My eyebrow arches as I tilt my chin up. That's right—this could have been you!  

A pang of guilt pricks my chest. I'm here with Bryce. I should be paying attention to him.

"There's going to be a lot of work for you. We are redoing all of their branding..." Bryce launches into the details of the project. I should be listening, but...

I know, I'm terrible—but Gio has looked away. He's conversing with Charlie, whose dirty blond hair isn't scruffy anymore. It's cropped short, like a military haircut. The girls laugh giddily, entertained by whatever they are saying. Their cleavage nearly popping out of their sexy dresses.

Disgusting. I bet they're fake.

I look back to Bryce and nod along for a few minutes, resting my chin on my hand while he gives me the rundown of the evaluation of the new client. When a self-imposed appropriate amount of time has passed, I flick my eyes briefly to Charlie, who, to my horror, has turned all the way around and is looking straight at me! Ack!

He gives me a quick wink and turns away again, his upper body looking cut under his dark blue collared shirt. 

I sit up quickly in my seat and lower my hands to my lap. My heart rate just shot up again, and my stomach feels so tight I hope I can eat my dinner. I look back at Bryce, momentarily stunned by Charlie's wink, and take yet another big sip of my wine and finish it off.  

"Slow down there, Tiger." Bryce chuckles but then quickly changes his tune. "Are you okay? All of a sudden, you look a little pale." He leans closer to me, concern shadowing his eyes.

"I'm fine. Just remembered something I forgot to do at work."

"Sorry, that was my fault, talking about work with you when we're out. I promise not to do shoptalk anymore," he assures me, filling up my empty wine glass.

What the hell's my problem? I just need to focus on the guy who's actually interested in dating me, eat dinner, and then get the hell out of here.

After we finish our meal, I convince Bryce to skip dessert and go out dancing at the Roxy, which he happily agrees to. Bryce excuses himself to go to the restroom. I've been good about not looking over at Gio's table for thirty whole minutes, but now that Bryce is gone, I take my opportunity to check him out just one more time.

I see Charlie get up to allow the two blond girls to exit the booth. They walk down the aisle to the bathrooms. Gio makes eye contact with me and has his classic enigmatic face on. Charlie leans over to him and says something low across the table. Gio nods imperceptibly but doesn't take his eyes off me. I drop my eyes—the weight of Gio's stare is just too much. Heat is burning up my entire body, and I pick nervously at my newly manicured nails in my lap. Oh, god, what if he comes over?  

"Hey, I'm back," Bryce says as he sits down. Wow, that was quick. 

"How were the bathrooms?" 

"What?" he asks, confused.

"Sorry, I mean, is the bathroom design nice?"

"Oh. Um, I didn't really pay attention. Yeah, I think so."

"I'm going to go check it out and freshen up before we move on," I say. Here's my credit card if they come with the check. I want to split it with you."

"No, I'll get it."

"Bryce!" I widen my eyes. "Please."

I drop it on the table and head to the bathroom. As I'm walking there, I realize that the bottle of wine I had more of my fair share of is hitting my motor functions, and I wobble ever so slightly on my heels as I head down the hall. I don't look at Gio because I will definitely stumble if I do, but I can feel his eyes on me as I pass, and a smile quirks my lips because I know my ass looks great in this dress.

The bathrooms don't disappoint. From the hall, I pass into a large anteroom with one long trough sink. The walls are covered in black wallpaper with a paisley motif, which begs you to touch it because it's flocked like soft velvet. On the way in, I pass the two girls on their way out.

I don't look anything like Gio's date—beautiful, tan, and blond. I wonder if her boobs are fake, mine are nowhere as big as hers. I guess he finally got his Claudia Shiffer after all.

They don't notice me and walk back to Gio's table. I look for men's and women's signs, but it's a unisex bathroom—how cutting edge. There are only individual toilet rooms with long, tall doors. I step inside one and lock the door.

When I come out to wash my hands, Charlie's standing there, leaning against the sink, waiting for me. He looks good in his black pants and navy shirt, his arms folded across his now broad chest. He quietly waits for me, watching as I wash my hands in the sink and grab a towel. He's obviously checking me out. Some things never change. 

"Hi, Charlie," I say, feeling heat spread across my cheeks under his look. 

"Hi, Ren. Having fun yet?"  he grins, and my cheeks flame more.

"Haha. Very funny," I deadpan. It's sort of an inside joke now, but back in middle school, when he was trying very hard to flirt with me, he always used to ask me that dumb question.

"Well, it's great to see you again," coming over to hug me. A hug that lasts two seconds longer than feels normal. "You're a stick of dynamite now," he adds, pulling my shoulders back and looking me over with his warm brown eyes.

 "Charlie," I warn, but it doesn't phase him.

"Wowzer—no wonder my boy's a mess," he winks at me again. It feels a little inappropriate, but it also feels good to hear him say that.

"What are you up to these days?" I ask, trying to take the atmosphere down a notch.

"I'm a Sergeant. 6th Engineer Battalion with Army up in Alaska. I'm on leave for two weeks for G's birthday and to see my dad."

"Wow," I say, honestly surprised. "Never thought a punk skater like you would wind up in the military," I smirk.

"I needed someone to kick my ass into shape, and my deadbeat dad wasn't doing it," he joked back. "Anyway, I didn't want to end up a roofer like him."

"Yeah, I don't blame you. Well, you look good." Giving him a complimentary once over with my eyes.

"Thank you," he beams. "That's music to my ears coming from you." 

"I should get back to my table," I say. "Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yeah, um, I just wanted to tell you," he takes in a breath. "Whatever he's said to your face... I mean, just know... he's still fucking in love with you."

I can't speak. Tears prickle at the edges of my eyes. I swallow against the colossal lump forming in my throat.

"He just, he's terrified to get hurt again... and hurt you too. Y'know?"

"I know."

"You don't really, though," he says, looking me straight in the eyes, his face sad and serious.

"What do you mean." 

He looks down. "He'll tell you when he's ready," 

"I'd love him to, but I don't think he wants to talk to me again." 

"No. He wants to. He's just being an idiot," Charlie huffs.

I cross my arms. "Tell him that," I mutter.

"After seeing you again, I will be, trust me."

A pause in the conversation turns slightly uncomfortable.

"I should get back," I sigh, turning to walk out the door. Then I turn back, thinking of one more thing.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I have your number? You know, in case I—" I hesitate. "I don't know... in case I ever need advice about him again," I venture, feeling weird about asking.

"Be your secret informer again? Of course! Plus, I never turn down giving my number to a beautiful girl," he says a little suggestively with a smirk, making me laugh.

"Even if I know she'll always love my friend more than me," he adds low, giving me a little punch. I punch him lightly back.

I take his number and text him hi, so he has mine too.

"Bye, Charlie. Hey, tell him happy birthday for me."

"I will."

♥︎♥︎♥︎