CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A woman laughs down the hall and the high horse-like sound rips my attention from the sales spreadsheets laid out on my desk. Sheila, a second-floor secretary neighs again, the sound distinguishable as only her. Its carnival day. The office’s reward for the work in the community last week. I should be out laughing with my coworkers but instead I’m feigning work for a few quiet moments alone with my thoughts. Quiet being relative when Sheila’s in the vicinity.
The problem isn’t Sheila or her horse laugh. The problem is me.
I had sex with Ryland.
Soccer super star Ryland Bates.
It didn’t start out as sex, but after an hour of heavy petting, we couldn’t stop the progression. I didn’t want to. The sex isn't the problem. I enjoyed that… immensely, but what do I do now? Do we do it again? Start a relationship? Act like it never happened? Why is this being an adult shit so hard?
I snicker at my own innuendo and then hit my head on my desktop without enough force to do any damage. I bet Ryland isn’t having a freak out. I bet he’s strutting around his condo today. He certainly seemed smug when I saw him last night. Aspen and I spent six hours together yesterday and I didn’t spill the beans once during girl brunch. Five minutes after Simone left, my bestie started grilling me on what I was hiding. I had to tell her.
Of course Pen’s no help with what I need to do now, and by the time I made it back to Ryland’s place, Grant was there playing Dragons Reborn with Finn. The few minutes Ryland and I occupied the same space were awkward and ripe with tension, so I did what I do best in times of stress. Retreated.
But I had a plan! A great plan where I question him in the car on the way to work this morning. It had potential, but then Ryland texted late last night saying he had to leave town and wouldn’t be home until late tonight. I had to find my own ride to and from work. How convenient, right?
“Are sales that bad for February?” Scott walks into my cubical. It’s a casual day, but he’s wearing a light blue polo tucked into a pair of khakis and a brown belt. It’s his typical style and it has nothing on Ryland in a pair of thin basketball shorts.
“Huh?”
He picks up one of the loose pages. “Well I figured it must be bad by the way you’re trying to tap your pen through the desk.”
I drop the pen I’d been tapping. When did I develop a nervous habit? “Just thinking.”
“Well, come on. They opened up the midway games and I hear there’s skee ball.”
I gather up the pages of data and pile them in a corner of my desk, ready for another day, before following Scott to the large conference room to kick his ass in skee ball.
Water splashes over the side of the kiddie pool in the corner of the room falling on the large tarp set up underneath for just this reason. The green plastic frog falls to the bottom of the pool and I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Okay, you’ve got one frog left. If you make it, you’ll win a small prize.” Scott leans over my side to help line up my shot. “Try to make it this time.”
I laugh and pass the frog back and forth between my hands pretending to weigh it, like that will help me. “You’re so helpful.” The truth is I do need pointers. Not only did I lose four rounds of skee ball, but I’m on my third attempt on the frog toss and haven’t hit a lily pad yet.
Scott takes the long legged frog and places him on the small pad in front of me. “Not so hard this time, but hard enough to make it to the pool.”
“Again, so helpful.” I flick my hair behind me and give the pad a quick hit.
The frog sails through the air and lands smacking a rotating lily pad. Two of his legs fall over the side, but his base remains out of the water. Damn, I guess his mansplaining helped.
A row of cheap stuffed animals hangs from a rope against the wall and I scan them all deciding which to take home with me. There’s a bright pink panda bear with eyes a little too closely set to one another. A blue teddy bear holds a heart withlovestitched across it in a swirly font, in case anyone wants to out themselves in an inner-office relationship I guess. They’re kind of pathetic, exactly what you’d expect from a carnival. My eyes fall on a green frog with longer than normal legs and I decide he’s my prize since it fits with the game.
“Congratulations,” the pond’s attendant says as he passes me a small bag full of water… and a bright orange goldfish.
“A fish? I thought I got to pick a stuffed animal.” I point to the row behind him but take the fish, holding it cautiously. The bag’s top is pinched between two fingers where it’s been sealed off.
The attendant shrugs and motions on the next person in line.
Scott takes the bag from me and holds it up to the light. “Wow, a fish. What will you name him?”
“Name him?” I can’t name him. What am I going to do with a fish? I’ve already broken enough of Ryland’s rules. There’s no way I will be able to hide this one from him.
“What about Bubbles?” Scott hands the little bag back to me like it contains an explosive substance. Not a fish guy apparently.
For some reason I too hold the bag above me and peer at Bubbles with better lighting. “Eh, I’m not feeling Bubbles. What about Goldie?”
“As marketing people we should be better at this, but Goldie sounds great.” He places a hand on my shoulder in a quick pat.
