Wrong For Me
“Ha-ha, asshole.”
“Seriously though, Oakie Dokie, it’s been ten years. If he hasn’t come in hot yet, love you, but it ain’t happening. Treat that shit like fire and put it the fuck out!” When I sigh, Havannah laughs in my ear. “Sorry. You know I can’t go a whole day without trying. Like the guy but not for you.”
“Uh-huh, and you know it’s not that simple. I’ve tried several times to not want more. As you said, you were there. You know I’ve dated some, hooked up a few times. It’s not my fault that I get bored a few weeks in.”
“So, don’t date. You’ve had sex only twice in your life and with guys your age. You need a real man. You need to sample the beefs of the world. Plaaay,” she jokes.
My shoulders shake with laughter. “I play all day, every day.” I grin, pulling the phone from my ear to check the time. “Coolest job ever, remember?”
Other than the newest pain in my ass.
She’s not ready to hear about him yet. We need a solid hour for that disaster.
“What. Ever,” she clips. “You stay your dickless self then. I miss you.”
“Havannah, you’ve been staying here all week.”
“And? I get home when you’re passed out, and you leave before I get up. We haven’t even crossed paths yet.”
“I know, but we’ll have Sunday. How’s your training coming?”
“Fine. Had to stick a catheter up a seventy-year-old man’s dick today, and the fucker started growing in my hand.”
I bust out laughing right as my doorbell rings. “Are you shitting me?”
“I wish! I can’t unsee that.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to be a nurse.”
“Uh, yeah,” Havannah complains. “To cute little babies. Not hairy old men.”
“Thought you liked ’em older?”
“Older as in a man in his prime, who can keep me going for hours. Not a man who needs Viagra just to keep himself going!”
We both laugh at that.
“You’ll get there.” I pull the door open, and Rowan gives me a small grin, dropping a quick kiss to my cheek as he walks by. “Hey, I’ve gotta go. Row—”
“Rowan’s there. Yeah, yeah. Tell him not to get comfortable in my spot on the couch. I get you this Sunday, all for myself.”
“Love you.”
“Same, but don’t think I’m joking.”
“Bye.” I laugh, hanging up on her.
I walk around the corner, finding Rowan already settled into the cushions.
“Havannah?”
“Yeah.” I plop down beside him. “I feel bad. She agreed to come stay with me while my dad’s gone even though it’s an extra twenty-minute commute for her to school, and I haven’t spent any time with her. Our schedules are opposite, so we can’t ever have a full conversation, just bits and pieces.”
“She understands, and she’s just as busy as you are.”
“Yeah. Still sucks.”
Rowan nods and glances off, and I remember yesterday’s awkward ground drills.
Alec had to go and yank his top off like an animal while all the attention was on the two of us. And I mean, I am a girl. I’m genetically engineered to stop and appreciate a flawless frame when it’s so brazenly displayed. Still, Rowan being there to witness it, to see me practically drooling over another man—Alec, no less—is mortifying.
He knocks me with his shoulder, regaining my attention, and tips his chin to the TV. “What episode are we on?”
“The beauty of Netflix is, we don’t have to know that. Just press play.”
Rowan laughs and gets settled, tossing the remote to the floor after starting the show.
About mid-episode, he stretches his body across the sofa, pulls me between his legs, and shifts, so he’s lying back with me on top of him.
His hand starts rubbing circles against my back, and quickly, my form relaxes into his.
A few minutes into the second episode of the night, he pulls the blanket over us. I smile at the TV when his head turns so he can bury his face in my hair.
This isn’t new for us.
Late at night, once or twice a week, this is really the only time I have Rowan how I want him.
It’s always the same. As soon as he’s relaxed, he clings to me, holding on to me like it means something, but the next day, when I wake up, he’s gone.
Tonight though, his hold feels a little tighter. In fact, all week, he’s made his best effort to be near me. But I’ve learned that reading into his actions only leads to disappointment because, the next day, all’s the same.
Sometimes, I wonder if he’ll ever be ready for more, ever want more.
Other times, I wonder how much longer I can handle being in his arms like this before I lose my friend completely. I’m afraid a day will come when I decide, if I can’t have him, I can’t hold on to him.
And then I’ll let him go.