Page 35 of The Snowflake Effect

Shay.

Last night was a repeat of too many evenings since our trip: her torn red lace underwear in my hand, my eyes closed. My dick hard and my hand pumping as I pictured her soft lips, her wild hair, her hips eager against mine. Like I’m some perv stealing underwear from department stores, horny and deviant.

I don’t know why I kept her trashed lingerie. I’ve tried to throw them away a few times, but the longer it goes, the harder it gets. The thought gnaws at me, unwelcome.

I tap my fingers a fourth time on the sketch and draw my hand back.

“You still think about her?” Sawyer’s eyes burn into mine.

I make a non-committal sound and glance at Jackson’s pictures on my desk. The two of us in a go-kart. The two of us apple picking. The two of us at the beach. Each photograph is an awesome memory, each one a reminder I don’t have anyone to share them with. Still, I haven’t reached out to Shay or found the time to date.

Sawyer drags a chair over, flips it around, and straddles it, facing me. “You can’t deny the chemistry you and Shay had.”

“I never denied it, but we live on opposite sides of the country, and she made it clear that whatever happened in Aspen stayed in Aspen. She needed a break from guys or something.”

“Needed being the operative word.”

My heart stutters. The way he rolls his pinky ring, there’s no question Sawyer knows more than he’s saying. I should probably let him in on his tell, but poker night wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. “What does that mean?”

“My understanding is she’s decided to jump back into the dating scene.”

I nearly crush my armrests. “Your understanding?”

“Yep,” he says, still twisting that damn ring.

“Does your understanding have something to do with Lily? All those design hours we get billed for…how much of that time is spent with you two gossiping?”

His jaw tics. “She doesn’t charge for the hours we chat.”

“Hours? So, what…you guys stay up late at night whispering to each other? I bet her boyfriend thinks that’s swell.”

“You can fuck off. And stop diverting. Lily mentioned she’s setting Shay up on a date, so maybe it’s time to kick your pride to the curb and call her. Unless you’d rather take one of these sketches home and fuck it with more than your eyes.” He smirks. “I could cut a hole in one if you want.”

The intercom on my desk buzzes. Stella. “How’s ten tomorrow for that sexual harassment in the workplace support group?”

I slam my thumb onto the stupid fucking intercom. “Sure, but book two spots.” I release the button and turn to Sawyer. “I’ll fuck that poster when you stop jacking off while talking to Lily. I’m guessing you got that new cellphone because the old one with her picture on it got sticky.”

Stella’s voice sounds through the intercom, “Booked.”

Sawyer and I continue our staring contest, until he snorts. “Whatever, bro. Like I’ve said a thousand times, Lily and I are all business. You, on the other hand, are moping around when the woman you’re obsessed with might finally be ready to give things a shot. Especially since she could get free haircuts.” The bastard tips forward, laughing.

I’ve been close to calling Shay more times than I care to admit. Sawyer dropped her number on my desk shortly after we got back, and I entered it into my cell, where it’s festered, taunting me. The time I fell skiing and ended up with a cast up to my elbow with an ever-present itch below the plaster was less irritating.

But we still live three thousand kilometers apart.

“Look, my life is here, in Vancouver. Jackson is here, along with my dad, stepmom, and stepbrothers. Marina’s parents are here, too. I may be spending the summer in Toronto, but that’s all it is. A summer. If I get involved with a woman, I don’t want it to be casual.” I glance again at the picture frames on my desk. “I’m done with casual.”

Sawyer drums his thumbs on the back of the chair. “Okay. So what’s stopping you from dating? If you won’t pursue anything with Shay, then get out there.”

“With all my spare hours?”

“Jesus. I’m getting whiplash. Shay’s a no-go because you want something more permanent, but you’re not willing to make the time to date. Throw me a bone here.”

Sawyer and his persistence.

“Okay,” I say. “Fine. If I thought I’d be going out with someone decent, someone with potential, I’d make time for it. Now shut up and leave me alone.”

Stella’s voice crackles through the intercom again. “Permission to approach the bench.”