“Challenge accepted. I’d love to cook for you.”
Shit.
“Oh, uh … that— that won’t be necessary,” I scramble to backpedal. He watches me intently as I continue to stutter out a reply. “I believe you. It’s really not— it’s not—” An audible swallow. A nervous hair tuck behind my ear. “No, thank you,” I finally manage lamely.
His face softens at my obvious distress.
“Alright. I won’t push, but … think about it, okay?”
“Okay.”
Never gonna happen. It can’t. And I need to stop sending him mixed messages. Friendly is okay, I tell myself.Notflirty.
Friendly, not flirty.
Friendly, not flirty.
I repeat the new mantra over and over in my head.
“What about that one?” I ask in an effort to change the subject, choosing another design high up on his bicep. It’s partly obscured by his sleeve, which has fallen back down a little, so he pushes it up again, giving me the perfect view of tightly bunched and bulging muscle …
Friendly, not flirty!
I force myself to focus on the tattoo. It’s a street sign protruding from the vines.Ashbourne Lane. “This is the street I lived on when I was in Wyoming. It had a gorgeous view down the mountain to a small lake.” He shrugs. “Kinda reminded me of the view from …” he trails off and makes a point of clearing his throat.
The ridge?
My eyes jump to his, and I catch a flash of something … maybe wistfulness? Riley rubs at his chest as though to soothe an ache.
He was definitely going to say the ridge.
My own chest constricts as I flash back to the last time we were there together, just days before he left for college. It was the last time I remember being truly happy with him. The last time I remember feeling that innocent type of contentment that only comes from youth and the naive certainty that everything was going to work out exactly as I’d planned. My boys have broughtme countless joys over the years, but I never did regain that feeling, the one of limitless possibilities. Back then, I believed the future was wide open and ours for the taking. Back then, I couldn’t have fathomed what would happen.
That weweren’tactually meant for forever.
An air of regret settles heavily between us. Riley looks as sad as I feel in this moment.
“I should …” he pulls back, indicating the other customer at the end of the bar, and I nod, watching as he goes to check on the man, pouring him another pint.
I continue to stare after him, working to shove the memory back down deep where it belongs, once again forcing my mind to return to those tattoos. I’m curious about the vines and barbed wire—why some places are wrapped in the sharp, constricting metal, while others appear to be lovingly caressed by the lush greenery. He played it off like there wasn’t any significance to them beyond the need to tie all the images and places together, but I suspect there’s more to it. I suspect some of those places have more pleasant memories than others.
Riley reaches across the counter to accept the man’s credit card, and my eyes fall on what looks to be a series of numbers inked onto the inner crook of his elbow. Curiosity washes over me once more. It’s a true testament to how intensely I’ve been studying him that I can even make it out from this distance, and as he passes the man back his card and turns in my direction,I thank my lucky stars I’ve managed to rein myself in before he catches me checking him out yet again.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and I pull it out to see a text from Piper, the numbers on his arm at once forgotten.
Piper
Sorry, sorry, sorry! On the way now!
Checking the time, I’m amazed to see a half hour has passed while I’ve been busy chatting up my ex and admiring his ink. I sigh, not even bothering with the self-flagellation. Up until a few minutes ago, I’d actually been having a good time, and I’m not going to let myself think too much beyond that right now because … well, because it feels good.
Steph
Are you sure Lucy’s up for it? As I said before, it’s fine if she wants to reschedule
Piper
Nope. She insists she’s ready for hot wings with ranch sauce now that she’s got an empty stomach ;-)
