Oh, stop it! I lobbed a balled up napkin at him. Seriously, though, I continued, trying to regain some sort of grasp on a serious expression. Just a bad break up.
And you got to keep the friends, Matt supplied. Must have been really bad. Anyone I would know? he asked, his curiosity obviously piqued.
I pursed my lips. This was really not something I wanted to get intonot here, not now. Not with a guy Id only just met. Wasnt there some sort of rule against that, anyway? Not dredging up old flames and old wounds on a first date? Not that this was actually a date, just a chance meeting of two people who seemed to be hitting it off quite well.
But still.
How bout lets not and say we did? I suggested, smiling mirthlessly. Spotlights yours, Matt. How did you come to be part of this merry band of misfits?
He shifted in his chair, settling against the back and bringing an ankle up to rest on his knee. He rounded out the move by draping his right arm across the back of my own chair, the picture of cool and casual.
Nothing as interesting as your story, Im sure. I work on base with a few of these knuckleheads, Matt replied with a shrug.
I watched him closely, unsure of where this conversation could possibly go now.
I wonder where that waitress is with your beer, I said, looking around the bar with a curiosity I didnt really feel.
Matt followed my gaze, then shrugged.
Maybe she had to fly to Belgium to personally pick it out, he said with a small smirk. Either that, or she got lost on her way back to our table. She didnt seem all that bright.
I turned my full attention back to him, raising my eyebrows in surprise. It seemed such a rarity that intelligence trumped looks in the eyes of the male population.
You mean you noticed that, what with those boobs staring you in the face and all? I asked, smiling sweetly.
Oh, I see, Matt laughed, his eyes twinkling.
See what? I narrowed my eyes.
Matt looked left, then right in mock furtiveness and leaned forward. He motioned me in closer so that I would be able to hear him.
Boob envy, he whispered soberly.
I frowned at him and punched his forearm. Youre ridiculous.
And youre violent, he teased. Has anyone ever suggested anger management classes?
Only once or twice, I laughed. Right before I introduced them to my mean left hook. I held up my balled up fist and broke out into a devilish grin.
Brains and brawn, huh? Arent you the full package. Matt studied me for a moment, and I felt myself start to flush again.
Well, when your cup size sounds like a battery size, I said, glancing down at the nearly imperceptible bumps that occupied the region of my body required to classify them as breasts. My eyes widened, and I looked back up at Matt in horror.
Did I just say that out loud?
Fortunately, he was laughing.
Wow, he chuckled, shaking his head. You know, not every guy out there is concerned with that. At least, not the ones who actually have their priorities straight.
Our overly-endowed waitress magically appeared with Matts bottle of beer and set it down in front of him with a flourish.
There you go, she declared breathily. She twinkled vacantly at him, ignoring my attempts to get her attention until I tapped her on the shoulder.
Im sorry, I can see that youre extremely busy and all, but could I get some more seltzer?
While my sarcasm wasnt lost on Matt, it seemed to fly right over the waitresss head. The smile plastered on her spackled face slipped for a second, then slid back into place. Shed turned off the sparkle, though, since I wasnt a muscle-bound member of the male species.
Sure thing, sweetie, she said, heading off to get my drink, her hips swaying pendulously in her skin-tight jeans as she moved.
We watched her progress towards the bar, a steady succession of male heads swiveling to note her passage as she walked by them. I shook my head silently and smiled humorlessly.
No one watches me that way when I walk across the room.
Matts eyes held mine steadily, not a trace of mockery in his reply. How do you know?
Chapter Four
I never considered myself particularly adventurous I didnt itch for adrenaline, I didnt have a need to trek up the side of a mountain or plummet thousands of feet towards Earth after jumping from the belly of a plane. Some people make lists of things like this, determined to complete every item on their list before they kick the proverbial bucket.
I, on the other hand, tended towards lists of the more attainable kind the less adventurous kind. The kind usually classified under the heading of To Do. It was safe, it was controllable (at least, to some extent), and it was satisfying enough to stave off any niggling need I had for something more. It kept me distracted, kind of like chewing gum to keep your mind off the cigarette you really want.
What I really wanted wasnt adventurous.
At least, not in most peoples minds.
What I really wanted was to get married, to wake up every morning and know that someone loved me and wanted to share their life with me. To know that my toothbrush wasnt the only one in the holder.
Not exactly a harrowing, exhilarating existence; but it was what Id been dreaming of, what was on my list.
It was what seemed so impossibly unattainable, what I tried so hard not to think about.
Sometimes I stood in line at the checkout of a store, my eyes roving aimlessly over the magazines that flanked either side like paper sentrymen. The bridal magazines mixed in with the tabloids and fashion glossies seemed as irrelevant to me as an issue of Mens Health or Forbes, touting inapplicable advice. I may have been young for such a jaded perspective, but Id had enough frustrations with dating, with laying my heart on the line, for the sentiment to seem reasonable. After all, in every situation Id encountered so far, the guys had all presented themselves in such a way that made them seem far more interested in settling down to start a family than they actually were especially after a few weeks with me, a girl who left no doubt that my own personal convictions would allow nothing more than a bit of making out. The sentiment of, Wow, thats so great, that must take a lot of self-control, were replaced by attempts to get me to cross my own line, to give in to their particular brand of magic and my own human tendencies. And when I didnt the boredom crept in, and they let me see just how immature they could be.
It was a pattern I had grown to expect, one that made dating lose its allure. Still, it kept me from wasting my time with dead-end relationships, since it seemed to weed out the players; so in its own way, my self-imposed celibacy was insurance. But it definitely left me struggling to see why anyone would truly consider the dating scene fun. For me, all it seemed to produce was stress.
Little wonder, then, that I had basically resigned myself to the idea that I would never have my own chance to walk down the aisle in the frothy white dress towards Happily Ever After. Somewhere along the way, the sharp-edged pain of that realization had become like the dull arthritic ache that warns of impending rainstorms.
Which was why, when I met Matt, I never seriously considered the possibility of anything more than flirtatious friendship with him. I was so used to my dating life hitting dead ends that Id lost any hint of the spark of anticipation that usually accompanies a first date. I was more in the lets just get this over with school of thought. Matt seemed to be just another guy I could add to the buddy list not that I hadnt ever noticed how handsome or charming or perfect he was.
Quite the contrary, actually. I noticed with regular frequency, but it wasnt an observation I allowed to go any farther than that. I was too afraid too afraid that the feelings I had for such a great friend would catapult me into dangerous territory. I wasnt ready for that kind of vulnerability, not after the rough relationships Id been through in the past. While Id never done more than date, Id certainly invested my whole heart in a few guys who had never come to see me as anything more than a friend. Unrequited love that lasted for years, so loyal was I. And, in that compromised position, I had allowed myself to be hurt, to go out of my way, above and beyond the call of duty, in the slim hope that they would finally, finally see the light and realize that I was their soulmate.
No, it was better this way, to remain friends with Matt. Better to test the waters with other people I wasnt emotionally involved with, in case the waters turned out to be unfavorable. It was less messy that way.
None of this was anything we actually ever discussed, of course. It was an implied knowledge, a silent agreement under which we seemed to operate, and one that seemed to satisfy us both.
After our meeting that first night in the bar, there was an easy rapport between us. Matt and I ran into each other with an increasing regularity that went from serendipitous to intentional, with the occasional midnight rendezvous in the cereal aisle of Wal-Mart thrown in. After a few months of the intermittent meetings, we slid into a comfortable routine.
Regular trips to Starbucks to sip coffee and talk as people walked by, movie dates that turned into marathon premiere parties. A weekly table at Marinara, a small Italian restaurant that was a few miles from each of our apartments that became our place. We killed countless hours talking about anything and everything misspent youths and relationships, both past and present.
But as much time as we spent together, as intimately as we knew each other, as much as we loved one another, wed never explored anything beyond friendship.
Some people might have wondered at that, but we both considered it to be the wisest move.
It kept things simple until it didnt.
After a year of the non-dating-dating and an emotional intimacy so deep we could finish each others sentences, there was an unconscious shift in our relationship.
On my end, at least.
Sometimes it was easy to forget, to lose myself in the comfortable familiarity we shared, and think of us as a couple. And then reality would come crashing down on my head when he relayed the events of a date hed had the night before or asked my advice about what a certain woman might be thinking.
It wasnt as though he didnt know how I felt how much I loved him and wanted to try, to give us a shot.
Id told him once, one night when I was sufficiently emboldened by the frustration of a particularly bad blind date. I had come home to find a message from Matt on my machine, eagerly awaiting details on the meeting, and just the sound of his voice had calmed me down enough to make me realize that I wasnt simply tired of the madness of the dating game. I was tired of wasting my time with guys I knew I would never connect with the way I did with Matt.
Guys I would never love the way I loved Matt.
I had needed to see him, to talk to him face to face. I rushed back out of my apartment, fueled by the immediacy of my need, the urgency I had for him to know.
I screeched into a parking spot in front of Matts place, never giving thought to the fact that he might have company of his own or that I might be interrupting something. It hadnt mattered to me at that point. All that had mattered was that I knew now that I loved him, was in love with him, and that he needed to know.
Do you ever wonder, Matt? I had asked after finding him sprawled out on the couch, resplendent in a ratty tee shirt and the Superman pyjama bottoms Id given him the previous Christmas.
He had looked at me quizzically and shifted on the couch, silently patting the spot hed cleared for me. I flopped down, feeling an odd mix of excitement, nervousness, and boldness.
Wonder what?
I turned sideways to face him, pulling my legs up under me and resting my head on the back of the couch. Id closed my eyes for a brief moment and taken a deep breath, feeling my resolve slip ever so slightly.
Wonder what? Matt repeated softly, reaching out to tuck an errant lock of hair behind my ear.
I opened my eyes to see him looking at me intently, concern written clearly on his face.
Now or never, Eira, I thought.
Do you ever wonder if we should try if maybe we could, I had paused, unsure of how to phrase the question. What about us?
The question had been almost a whisper. My chin was starting to quiver, and I could feel tears forming. I had wanted so badly to hear him say he felt the same way I did, but I was terrified that he wouldnt.
And that then nothing would ever be the same.
How could it have been?
Hed ducked his head, dropping his gaze to his hands and then raising his eyes back to meet mine. They were full of undisguised affection, but there was a seriousness in them that gave it all away before the words had even left his mouth.
Eira, hed started, his hushed voice cutting through the absolute silence of the room as effectively as if he was shouting. He had taken my hands in his, enveloping them in his warm strength, his thumbs rubbing gently over the tops of my hands.
You know I love you, Eira. You know that, right? he asked.
I nodded mutely, not trusting myself to say anything.
I love you, but not the way that you need me to the way that you should be loved. He smiled a small smile edged with sadness. Besides, Im screwed up. You dont need that, Eira. You deserve better than that I want you to have better than that.
There. He had said it.
All the things I knew Id already known but was hoping had changed in the past year. I had listened silently, my heart breaking a little more with each word. I realized then, of course, that these were so many of the standard responses to this situation, the quickest route to damage control. But I also knew that the man saying them wasnt just any man. He was my best friend, and someone I didnt ever want to lose. I had trusted him not to serve me with platitudes, trusted him to be honest with me about his feelings. Even if he couldnt give me the answers I wanted to hear.