Page 48 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

Marlow chews her lip again. “Can I ask you something else?”

“What happened with Blair?” I guess.

She nods.

“Yeah, I was sort of surprised that you didn’t ask before the wedding.”

“I felt like I had already made things awkward enough,” she admits with a grimace.

“Can’t argue with that. As far as Blair goes, we had been growing apart for a while. Then my dad met Cheryl, and Blair met Kevin, and that was it.”

“Did she cheat on you?”

“The timeline’s murky…but probably. The fact that I didn’t really care was a big eye-opener for me. We were both staying in a shitty relationship just because everyone else we knew was pretty much doing the same thing at that age. I decided then and there that I would never be with someone just for the sake of being with someone again. And I’m a lot happier now.”

“Now that you’re free to sleep with anyone you want?”

“Almostanyone,” I wink again, more successfully this time. Marlow blushes. I love making her do that. “And yeah, I guess so. Just generally happier with the situation.”

Sadness flashes across Marlow’s face. She probably doesn’t understand how someone could be happier this way. She’s a relationship girl, she said so herself. We’re fundamentally different in the way we approach these things. I won’t get into another relationship until I’m absolutely certain that it’s right. Marlow won’t get into bed with someone until she’s absolutely certain that it’s a fully-formed relationship. It feels like not one – but two – giant walls that we’ll need to scale in order to make this work. Until tonight, I felt like that second wall was at least in view, but I can tell by the way she danced around the subject of Kayla that she doesn’t fully trust me yet. This will all blow up in my face if we rush things. And maybe we’ll never get there, but at least we’ll be friends.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

___

Consciousness seeps in slowly. The muffled buzz of something on the television. The soft scratch of the sofa fabric under one palm. The stiffness in my neck from falling asleep with my head cocked to one side.

Just as I’m opening my eyes, Marlow’s voice registers in my ears.

“Hey, let’s go to bed.” It’s barely a whisper and obviously a waking dream. It has to be.

A gentle tug on my hand draws my eyes open. Marlow is looking at me. Her eyelids are heavy, too. My exhaustion is reflected in her glassy blue eyes.

“Come on,” she coaxes.

I’m still not sure if I understand her meaning. Even as I stand up and let her lead me into the adjoining bedroom, I’m searching my pocket for my car keys and vaguely considering the distance from Marlow’s apartment to the bar, the bar to the station, where my truck is parked.

“Here,” Marlow says as she hands me a standard-issue Forest Service t-shirt. It’s the one we all get once a year. They’re all a men’s size large unless we bother to special order some, which we don’t.

“Are you sure?” I’m not asking about the shirt and Marlow knows it.

“Yes.”

In a matter of minutes, I’m in a fresh t-shirt and my boxers in Marlow’s bed drifting off to sleep again. She’s beside me, but there’s that ever-present sliver of space between us.

The next time I wake up, my arm is draped around something…someone…Marlow. My chest is pressed against her back. She moves in a way that tells me that she just woke up as well. I mumble the word ‘sorry’ next to her ear as I start to roll away. But Marlow’s hand finds my wrist and urges me back into the warm spot next to her, pulling me even closer than before.

I will myself to stay awake and enjoy the feeling of her, but it isn’t long before I drift off to sleep again.

Chapter 17

MARLOW

A few weeks ago, Ryan and I were enemies. But right now, my only enemy is the sun. It’s pouring in through the sheer curtains and making my bedroom unbearably hot.

Or maybe it’s the solid mass of man who has me tucked into his arms that’s making me hot. I prefer to blame the sun though. Because now that Ryan and I aren’t enemies anymore, I can admit that this feels good.

He’s awake, too. I can tell by the tiny adjustments he makes around me. Neither of us speaks. If we did, this…whatever this is…would be over.

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