Tyed

I wanted to embarrass Ty and have him twist uncomfortably until he begged me to come downstairs. Instead, Ty rushed up to her apartment, and now they speak freely about everything. And I mean everything.

“Your ears look awful. Is it because of all the fighting? It looks like they collapsed inwards. Very unattractive.” Nana Marty wrinkles her nose.

“Yeah, it's a souvenir from my very first XWL win. Vicious headlock, but I managed. The fighter ears definitely bring down my stock. It’s a bitch, for sure. I constantly have to drain fluid from them with a syringe.”

“That’s disgusting, Tyler.” This, from my nana, who has a green, double-headed dildo on her nightstand. My mom still thinks it’s a decorative cactus.

“It’s not for the fainthearted, but neither is the XWL,” he says.

“So when are you fighting the guy?”

“June 13th, in Vegas. Should be an interesting weekend.”

Nana offers me a meaningful look. “Yes, it will, sweetheart. That's the weekend when I'm getting married to my financé, Simon, in Sausalito. Right, the wedding!" She rushes to a sideboard and comes back with a crisp, creamy envelope. “Blaire, I need you to give this invitation to the Kinneys.”

"Sure thing. I'll do it this week."

Great. Now please, just don't mention Shane's name. Please don't. Please don't. Please don't...

"And make sure to drag Shane with you to the wedding. Your mother said she walked in on you two the other day. I didn't know you were still in touch. I've missed that boy." She shakes her head, her smile nostalgic from all the times she saw us playing in my parents' yard and watching cartoons together as kids.

I turn my head toward Ty. Flared nostrils, clenched jaw, hands balled into fists, a vein throbbing in his neck.

Not happy.

On a scale of one to in-need-of-therapy, how fucked up is it that it’s kind of turning me on that he is so worried about Shane?

“Hey Ty, let’s wrap this up.” I get up from my seat and tug on his sleeve, feeling the blood humming in my veins as I touch his hand.

"This was nice." Ty offers his devilish smile, but the flash of anger in his eyes begs to differ. I'm worried that he'll screw with my interview with him again.

“Tyler, come on.” I tug his sleeve again, like a four-year-old.

“I don’t know why you’re so hell-bent on going so soon,” Nana says. “He can’t eat or drink alcohol, so your date is going to be challenging to say the least.” She turns to Ty. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He flashes his dimples. “I can see where Blaire got her sass."

“It wasn’t from her mother, that’s for sure.”

I’m now standing in the doorway, huffing. “Ty, I’m not joking. Get over here.”

I can’t take them together anymore. They make me feel like the responsible adult in the room. Me!

Ty finally drags himself to my spot and opens the door for me. His face is still fixed on my grandmother, and she awards him the same attention. These two are a dangerous combo.

“Have fun, you two, and don’t forget to practice safe sex!” she calls over her shoulder, click-clacking her heels back toward her kitchen.

God, no filters with this one.

“Nana!” I roar as I push Ty out the door. I feel the unwanted pull when I touch him.

“What? I don’t want my granddaughter catching STD’s! No offense again, Tyler.”

“None taken again, Marty.” But this time he flinches. Or maybe it's a tick? Probably just a tick.

When we enter the elevator, I press the down button five times in a row and rest my head on the silver wall, wheezing like a woman who just escaped from a starving grizzly.

Ty stands to the far side of the elevator, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, as he tries to keep his temper in check. The warmth of my humiliation melds with the burning sensation of my lust for him. I need to keep reminding myself this is for an interview. He has no right being mad at me. I owe him nothing.

“So, is Shane gonna be your wedding date?" he asks casually, stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at his biker boots.

That's my chance. That's my getaway ride.

"Seems so, yeah." I blink twice and look the other way. That's it, Ty. Give it up. Give me up and let me move on with my miserable, action-free love life.

The elevator is slow, and the silence between us pains me. I regret those last few words as soon as they left my mouth. Tomcat or not, he is single, and I shouldn't want to hurt him like I do. My mouth falls open and I'm about to speak when the elevator pings and he walks out before I get the chance to say anything.

What the hell is going on with Heart? It's hurting.