Page 7 of Playing With Danger

“Out, Soph, or I’m picking the restaurant.”

Saturday brunch.

This was what Hayden and I did. It was the one afternoon we set aside to connect.

“You’re going to feel like a total tool for giving me an ice bath when I tell you about my day yesterday.”

“Please, tell me the reason you’re killing the planet and using all the hot water for the building is because you had crazy monkey sex last night and pulled a hamstring.”

I wish.

“When have I ever had crazy monkey sex?” I asked as I finished rinsing my hair.

“Never, that’s why I’m out here crossing my fingers for you.”

I turned off the water, pulled the curtain aside just far enough for my arm to reach out. I wiggled my fingers and demanded, “Towel.”

A towel was shoved into my hand. “At your service.”

I seriously loved Hayden.

Unfortunately, that love was in a friends-only way.

It wasn’t that Hayden was unattractive; he was extremely good-looking. It wasn’t that he wasn’t funny, or smart, or ambitious, or any of the things that made a man dating material. It was because Hayden had been my ex-boyfriend’s best friend, now ex-best friend since I got Hayden in the breakup. That was because Hayden was a good, decent man who was hurt and pissed off that Oakley had cheated on me. Not once, but twice. Not that I knew about the first one until I found out about the second, then all his lies came out. Hayden had been enraged. I had been crushed. He gave me three months to nurse my broken heart before he called me and asked me to lunch. It was then Hayden told me he’d kicked Oakley’s ass and broken off the friendship.

He didn’t seek me out to be a creep. During my year-and-a-half relationship with Oakley, Hayden and I had become friends. Not the lie-in-wait male friend who was secretly bidding his time until he could lure you into bed. Genuine friends. So, me and Oakley broke up. Hayden and Oakley broke up. And Hayden became my best friend. That was five years ago and we moved in together as roommates two years ago when his last roommate moved to Arizona.

Truth be told, sometimes I secretly wished I was attracted to Hayden. Life would be so much easier. But the one and only time I stared at him while we were binging old Law & Order episodes wondering what it would be like to kiss him, my lip curled up and my vagina promptly hung a ‘Do Not Enter’ sign in my panties. Incidentally my feet had been in his lap and he was giving me an over-the-sock foot massage since feet were gross and that was the only way I’d allow him to touch them. Meaning if there was ever a time I’d be open to the idea of kissing him it would be while he was doing something sweet and generous after I’d had a long day.

It should also be noted Hayden was not attracted to me in anyway either. Zero boners from him in regard to me. Not even an, oops it’s morning and I can’t control my erection as you’re running to the only bathroom we have in the apartment and you’re only in a t-shirt and undies. Zip. Zilch. No tent popping in our apartment.

“Now that you’re done I’m leaving.”

That was totally Hayden. He’d pour ice water over my head while I was in the shower. He’d sit on the toilet seat and talk to me. But as soon as the water went off and he’d handed me my towel, he vamoosed to give me privacy.

I did the same to him, though I rarely got the bucket over the railing before he’d yell that he knew I was in the bathroom. That took most of the fun out of it but I still got mine back.

He’d also sit and binge old TV shows and eat popcorn with me. He’d also come home from a date, tell me all about it—sometimes more than I wanted to know—and razz me about my horrible sex life. Read, nonexistent sex life. There were times he’d get serious and tell me he was worried I wasn’t happy. The man was good at a heart-to-heart but over the years with the kind of mother I had I’d perfected the art of hiding my unhappiness. Or more to the point—lying.

Meaning, I wasn’t as fired up as I was yesterday when the rush of what had happened was still fresh to tell Hayden what had happened. Mainly because he’d be pissed I hadn’t called him right away.

That meant I took my time getting out of the shower and peeling back the duct tape I’d stupidly used. I also took my time getting ready. By the time I made my way out to the living room, finding Hayden sitting on the couch with his tablet in his hands, dread had taken over.

4

“Hayden?” I prompted when he didn’t say anything.

“Quiet,” he snapped.

I was sitting opposite of Hayden, my ass on the edge of one of the two papasan chairs that normally sat to the right of the couch in front of the window that had a bird’s eye view of the pool and clubhouse. I’d dragged one in front of the TV so I could face him while I explained yesterday’s doings before we left for lunch.

Now I was regretting telling him.

Hayden had never snapped at me.

But then I’d never shared with him I’d been caught up in a would-be robbery. Further from that, I’d never shared with him I’d been in a physical altercation, and that was only because before yesterday I’d never actually hit anyone. Moving on from that I’d never had the plastic shards from a broken bucket of margarita mix slice into me.

Yesterday’s plan to use humor and dramatics to tell my story died a fiery death three sentences in when Hayden’s eyes glittered with fury. It was then I’d changed tactics and gave him only the facts without commentary that would lead him to believe I was a badass heroine who took down the bad guy.

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