Page 37 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

“Yeah, but the hairstyles have. And so has film technology. Those videos are so grainy and fuzzy, it could honestly be atalking bear narrating it and I don’t think anyone would know the difference.”

Ryan lets out another laugh. When the coffee pot lurches to a stop, we take turns filling our cups. His shoulder brushes mine and I can smell his cologne. I wonder when he started wearing that to work. Ryan pauses from stirring the half and half into his coffee to look over at me curiously. That’s when I realize that I was staring. My eyes dart back to the cup on the counter in front of me, but the color that rises to my cheeks gives me away.

The stupid thing is: IwantRyan to tease me about it. I want him to make one of his cocky little comments about wiping the drool off my chin. Or something. Anything other than this weird, hollow shell of a friendship that we’ve stumbled into.

If I had known that this is what being friends with Ryan looks like, I would have never agreed to it.

I think Ryan feels it, too. The tension between us is thick and palpable, but there’s something else there as well. It’s a hint of sadness in the way that Ryan peels his eyes away from me. It’s a micro-expression so tiny that I would have missed it if I didn’t look up at him again for that fraction of a second.

His shoulders heave as he lets out a long, deep sigh. It’s the unmistakable sigh of someone who has something to say but is buying themselves some time. I’m on edge beside him, waiting for him to speak.

“Are you going to happy hour tomorrow?” he asks.

Totally not the conversation I was expecting. It’s disappointing, to say the least.

“I don’t know,” I say, stretching the words out while I try to conjure up some reason why I can’t go.

Ryan turns to face me. His chest is right there by my shoulder. His head is bent down, and he quietly asks, “Please, will you come?”

I glance up at him. He looks desperate, tired, sad…and I can’t say no. I nod slowly, but even after he has the answer he wants, he doesn’t stop staring at me. An urge to reach out and touch him snakes up my spine and out to my fingertips. Almost as if he knows, Ryan’s eyes flick between my lips and my hands in the small space between us.

Then footsteps near the doorway send us both backward an inch or two. We each turn our attention to our coffee cups as Kayla enters the room.

“Oh, hi, I just need to refill my water,” she says as she holds up her pink water bottle. Her eyes linger on Ryan for a second before she walks over to the water cooler.

Ryan and I exchange a quick glance. A ‘Holy shit, did it look like we were about to make out all over the break room counter?’ smile and a quiet laugh.

A loud gurgle from across the room draws our attention away from each other. It’s the death rattle of the water jug as it deposits its last few drops into Kayla’s plastic bottle.

“Oh, shoot,” she says dramatically. “Is there another jug around?”

Obviously, there is. It’s sitting right in front of her on the ground.

“Yeah, I got it,” Ryan says. He seems eager to have something to do other than stare awkwardly at his coffee mug until she leaves.

Kayla is a small woman. If she’s more than five feet tall, I’d be shocked. She has a small, but athletic frame with breasts that, um, stand out. It makes sense that she wouldn’t want to swap out a forty-pound jug of water, given her height and stature. But what doesn’t make sense is the way she doesn’t step out of the way as Ryan tries to help. With the new jug in his arms, he has to navigate awkwardly around her to place it on top of the cooler, causing him to splash some water onto his shirt in the process.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Kayla says as she rushes over to the counter. She returns with some napkins and starts dabbing the wet spot on Ryan’s shirt. Right on his stomach, just above his belt buckle.

I am not proud of my reaction to this. My ears get so hot that I wonder if steam is shooting out of them. My pulse quickens in my throat and my teeth clench together as if they’re trying to keep my heart from jumping out of my throat and onto the floor. It is pure, unmistakable jealousy.

Ryan, on the other hand, is unreadable for a split second. Is he seriously going to let this woman that he doesn’t even know dab his stomach dry right in front of me? Doesn’t he know that I’m two seconds away from marching over there and dumping that entire jug of water over both of their heads?

Then he grabs Kayla’s wrist gently and takes a full step backwards while holding her in place.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” he says to her dismissively.

When he turns and walks over to the sink with his back to her, Ryan shoots me a look that unmistakably says, ‘What the fuck was that?’ I shrug and smile, hoping he can’t see the jealousy written all over my face.

Kayla fills her water bottle and quickly disappears from the room.

Ryan grabs a paper towel and picks up where Kayla left off on drying his shirt. After glancing back to make sure she’s gone, he quietly says to me, “That was weird.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I should get back in there.”

Ryan nods. I think we’ve both had all the awkwardness we can handle at the moment.

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