Page 32 of Snapshot

“Did you hear me?” he asks.

Oh crap.“Sorry. Dex was sending me funny job listings. He’s been trying to cheer me up after getting fired and all.”

Alan’s lips twitch into a clipped smile. “I thought I had that covered.”

I sit up and reach out to him, but we’re too far apart. My hands fall aimlessly to my sides. “Of course you do. Dex is just a buddy, you know that.” I wave my phone in the air at him. “Ihave nothing to hide. He only knows I got fired because, after I lost my job, I called to cancel the dive trip next year. That’s all.” The wind gusts through, and I sniff dramatically in the air just to change the subject. “Hey, do you smell that? Is that churros or funnel cakes? Should we go get some dessert?”

Alan’s face is blank. He stares at me for an uncomfortably long time, then finally says, “You said his name.” His words seem to come out in slow motion.

“What?” I ask, lowering my phone.

“The night I walked in on you on the bed. When you…you know…you said Dex’s name.”

A wave of nausea washes over me, and I have to swallow down the bile. It was over a week ago that Alan caught me with my vibrator. We haven’t talked about it. It was quite clear he wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, so we did just that. Now he’s bringing it up?

“No, I didn’t,” I say.

“Yes, you did. Clear as day. I wasn’t going to bring it up. But?—”

“I didn’t, Alan. I was there.”

“Lennox,” he bites out. I flinch at his tone, a little sharper than I’m used to. “It’s not the kind of thing a boyfriend forgets. You said his name. I’m sure of it.”

Did I?Who the hell remembers what they say when they orgasm? I guess… Is it possible? I mean, I distinctly remember thinking about him.Oh, hell.

“Alan, I…”

“I’m not mad.” He holds up his hands, waving me off. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

There’s a loud ticking sound in my head.Tick, tock. Tick, tock.Just counting down the seconds until I say something I’ll regret. “You should be mad.” It comes out as a plea. “If your girlfriend is calling out another man’s name when she’smasturbating, especially right after you had sex, you should bepissed, Alan.”

His eyes bulge to owl proportions as he rotates his neck side to side, checking to see if anyone heard me. The way he moves his head only emphasizes his likeness to the bird. I’d giggle if the tension wasn’t so thick, but I can read a room. It’s most definitely not the time to laugh. Instead, I survey the park with him and see our company is sparse. The nearest group of people is at least thirty yards away.

“Youwantto fight about this?” Alan eventually asks, his eyes touched with sadness.

“No,” I respond softly. “I just want…” The end of my sentence disappears in the thickening air. Maybe I didn’t have the words to begin with.What do I want?If I could build a boyfriend in a lab and fill him with all the magic ingredients…it’d be Alan. He checks every box except one.

I didn’t realize what a huge fucking box it is. I’m not a shallow girl. I don’t think lust is all about good looks and muscles, and I don’t think mind-blowing sex has to be kinky. But I do believe chemistry is something that can’t be forged.It’s gifted.My old friend and mentor, Jacob, once told me that love is how the universe still has a hand in our fate. And something in me suspects that for the past year, I’ve been fighting fate.

Alan scoots in closer, wrinkling our picnic blanket. Rubbing his thumbs under my eyes, where tears should be. “Just tell me how you feel.”

“What’s off with us?” I whisper.

He looks away; suddenly, the green-brown grass is captivating to him. “I guess what’s off is the fact that you think something’s off. This is all news to me.”

“You don’t feel it?”

He forces himself to face me. Holding my gaze, he slowly shakes his head. “Not until about ten seconds ago. How long have you been unhappy?”

“I’m not unhappy.” I grab his face in both of my hands, his barely-there stubble scraping against my palms. “Not at all.”

He glances at my phone. “Then why don’t you smile like that when you’re texting me?”

“Like what?” I ask, my tone defensive. “And how would you know? You can’t see my face when we’re texting.”

“It’s just a metaphor. What I’m trying to say is there have been little clues I’ve been ignoring. I see how things are going to end with us. And I think…” He exhales deeply.

I shake my head fervently. “Alan, please don’t. We were having a perfectly nice picnic. I’ll put my phone away. You have my full attention.”

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