That’s history speaking, how men have behaved toward me in the past, how they seem determined to look past me, over me, or through me.
The thing is, I’ve never cared. There’s never been a man who I’d want to really see me.
Until Ryland.
I sigh, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I’m going around in circles.
Reaching over to my bedside table, I pick up my pen and notepad, the ones I use for songwriting when I can’t sleep.
Tapping the pen against my teeth, I look down at the blank page, song notes dancing through my mind.
Without thought, my writing comes quickly, the song lyrics seeming to burst up from nowhere.
I never knew you,
And you never knew me,
But lately, baby, lately…
This feels like destiny
I know I’m a stranger,
Just a face in the crowd,
But my mind is a prisoner,
To you, to you, to you…
And your voice is so loud
In my head,
You never stop calling,
In my bed,
I want you so bad, so, so bad…
I stop, taking a quick breath, my heart thudding.
It’s rare for the words to flow so easily. More spill out from the end of my pen, in the same vein, more unfeasible words about all the things Ryland and I are going to do.
Reading over the song’s final verse, I struggle not to feel like the biggest dork in the universe. My cheeks are flushed red, my skin tingling as though Ryland is here, as though his penetrating gaze is aimed right at me, his lips turned down in a mocking frown.
One day, I know we’ll be happy,
One day, I know we’ll be together,
But now I’m left dreaming,
My whole body screaming,
As I wait for that day called Never.
It’s a bleak way to end the song, but it’s not like I’m intentionally grim. It’s always difficult for me to keep my songs lighthearted, even when I want to.
But in this case, it’s warranted.
There isn’t any hope for the two of us, no fairytale scenario where I snap my fingers, and Ryland suddenly wants me the same way I want him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ryland
Want doesn’t even come close.
It’s the next day, and I’m walking around the edge of the park, letting Rusty duck his head and sprint around with all the other dogs.
I even wave to some of the other dog owners, trying to force a smile on my face, but it’s difficult not to let my darkness show.
The lack of sleep doesn’t make it any easier.
Last night was the most difficult I’ve ever had, my closed eyelids flooding with images of Rachel as though playing a movie, purposefully designed to keep me awake.
If I wasn’t thinking about how curvy and perfect she looked in her picture, I was dreaming up scenarios about our future, a future that will probably never happen…a future that she'd laugh at if I told her about it.
Rusty comes running over, his tongue hanging, head tilted as if in a question.
Are you still thinking about her? He’s probably growing tired of me moping about.
I reach down and scratch his head, tossing a couple of treats for him. He snaps them out of the air, the clack of his teeth sounding loud and threatening, misleading since he’s such a softie.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I’m still thinking about her, boy.”
That’s one of the advantages of having a dog. If I speak to myself, I’m crazy and unhinged, but it’s perfectly acceptable for a man to speak to his dog.
I’m thinking about Rachel standing in our kitchen, our children clinging onto her summer dress as she pulls a dish from the oven. I imagine the way her cheeks will flush with the heat. Then she’ll turn, spotting me watching her.
In the fantasy, her smile widens, her eyes brighten, glinting, and beautiful.
I struggle to maintain my calm as we circle the park, as though it’s happening right now, this waking dream as if she’s close enough to touch.
“When did you know you wanted me?” she asks in my mind, her voice like a song.
“The first moment I saw you.”
That’s what I’ll tell her because it’s the truth.
It’s the truest thing I’ve ever felt.
My cell phone buzzes in my pocket. Taking it out, I see that it’s Charley. I’m not in the mood to talk with anybody, but we need to arrange the live stream. I’m not letting him down.
“Hey,” I say, answering.
Charley laughs. “You all right, mate?”
“Could say the same to you,” I reply. “Must be two in the morning over there.”
“Just about. You know me. Night owl through and through. You good to talk?”
“Sure.”
I can hear how blunt I’m being, how unfairly short my words sound. It’s like I’m taking out all my unspent emotion on him… or maybe, I know I need to hold back my emotions so I don’t let it all spill out.
“I was wondering about the live stream?”
“We should be good to go today,” I tell him. “If the timing works? Rachel taught me how to use my phone’s internet. So even if the WiFi’s still busted, we’re good.”