“What talk?" he asks.
“You know, to get to know each other. Something people do before showering together."
“I didn't forget about that talk. I wish we had time over the last week. I can't believe how many interruptions we got."
“Is this over?" I ask, being blunt because blunt is my thing. Distance makes feelings stronger, and I'm feeling it, but I don't get the same vibe from Wesley.
“Why would you say that?" Wesley asks. He is making it sound like my question is coming out of nowhere, but I've been wondering if he feels the same.
“I don't know. I feel like things have cooled down so much that there's an awkward tension between us. Maybe it's just me, but this feels weird."
“Would it be less awkward if I grabbed you, dipped you backward, and kissed the hell out of you right here like a scene from the 1940s?" I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or serious, so I reply with a soft laugh.
We're walking up the steps to my apartment, so there's a good reason to break up the conversation for a minute. I unlock the door and let him in first. More silence follows us up the stairs and into my apartment.
“I'm going to change my clothes real quick. Could you put this in your refrigerator for me?" He hands me the milk and walks off to the bathroom.
“Hi, milkman!" Layla shouts from behind her monitor.
“Hey," he says before closing the bathroom door.
Lost in thought, I click my heels heavily across the kitchen tiles and place the milk bottles inside the fridge. “Have you been conversing with Wesley this week?" I ask Layla.
“Yeah,I help him get the milk set up in the morning. There's a grocery store right next to the parking lot, so it makes it easier. We get what we need for the day and that way we don't have to worry about storing it, except for today. I didn't want to pay to keep a fridge powered when the truck isn't in use, so it's a good deal."
“Has he seemed different at all, or like something is wrong?"
She gawks at me like I have two heads, and shrugs. “No, he seems fine." Which means it's just me he's acting odd around.
“Maybe he's got a clogged duct. I heard it'spainful. I think there's cream at the pharmacy, which is for cows but can work for people too. You should grab him some. It's like lube I think."
“Layla, my God …" I don't even have a response. “Please, don't start."
Wesley steps out of the bathroom with his bag, dressed in his typical jeans and Henley. His hair is all over the place, but it could be going in any direction, and he'd still look good. “I feel better now. The uniform is constricting."
“Cutting off blood supply anywhere?" Layla asks.
He rolls his eyes. “No, but thanks for the concern."
“I told you, the bigger the bulge, the more they indulge."
Wesley clears his throat, and I'm almost positive now that something happened and he doesn't want to mention it. “Want to go get a bite to eat?" he asks me.
“I'd like that. Let me put on something more comfortable." A part of me thought he might follow my lead into the bedroom, but he doesn't. Last time we were together, he climbed into my bed, then stepped into the shower with me. I thought we were at least past the first date oddness.
I slip out of my dress pants and blouse, changing them out for a pair of jeans, a tunic, and my knee-high brown boots. I use a dab of lip gloss, squirt a spritz of perfume behind each ear, and feel more refreshed after a long day. I don't think my efforts will have any relevance on how Wesley feels about me at the moment, but I feel better putting in the effort.
Wesley and Layla are having a quiet conversation when I step back into the living room, and it irritates me to see him speaking so freely to her after being so quiet. Regardless, I know I have to let it go, so I put my feelings aside and smile. “Ready when you are."
They stop talking, and Wesley turns toward me. “I'll see what I can do," Layla says.
Awesome. This is so awesome.
When we get to the street outside the apartment, I stop walking and make him stop too by placing my hand on his chest. “Tell me what's going on. Nothing feels the same as last week, and I'm not up for the mind games, Wesley. I told you this from the beginning."
He gazes at me for a long minute, then takes my hand within his. The gesture feels sincere but doesn't offer much comfort. “My ex-girlfriend keeps placing orders for milk deliveries. I have no clue how she found me, but she has been paying for the milk delivery and a ten-minute long conversation almost every day so far."
I try to view the situation with a relational mindset. In any case, we're not in a relationship, which means I don't have a right to be annoyed. “Ah, that explains it, I guess. She's a smart woman." Maybe I should have been requesting milk delivers at work. Though, that might be weird considering the circumstance.
