Page 16 of Space Crush
Ian frowns, looking as incredulous as Bodie. “You never picked her up?”
I shake my head. “We always met each other out.”
We pause to mull over this additional road bump.
“Maybe you could knock on one of the doors in her neighborhood and ask,” Ian offers.
“Maybe you could bail me out of jail when I get arrested for being a creepy stalker.”
Bodie, finding my flat expression and monotone amusing, smiles.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I had to bail someone out,” Ian mutters over his beer.
We sit in silence for the next few minutes—them absent-mindedly watching the different TVs broadcasting news and sports channels, me stewing over the ridiculous drama I’ve gotten myself into.
Finishing his beer, Ian raises both hands in surrender. “You’re just gonna have to explain in a voicemail.”
I hunch my shoulders over my own empty glass, feeling defeated at the thought.
“Listen.” He leans forward, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I know you said you wanted to explain face to face, but unless you make a scene at work, which will probably end up with Human Resources getting involved, leaving a voicemail is your only option.”
I prop my elbow on the table, dropping my head in my hand. “It took me telling you guysthree timesfor you to believe me.”
All the calls and texts I made to Kaley, while full of ‘I’m sorries’ and ‘Please let me explains,’ didn’t actually explain anything. Because, as Ian and Bodie both proved, my explanation is too far-fetched for a sane person to believe.
I glance between the two of them. “You think reading it or hearing it over the phone is going to do me any good?”
Ian nods, thinking that over. “Fair point."
“I believed you the first time.”
I straighten, Bodie’s words giving me the first ray of hope since I felt firsthand how intense the game of softball could get. “Yeah?”
He shrugs. “When you’re married to someone like Rose West, you stop questioning the unbelievable situations people get themselves into.”
Ian salutes him, probably thinking of the many times his wife was involved in said situations. “Amen.”
Bodie frowns, staring off to the side. “Speaking of my wife...”
“Oh no.” Ian shakes his head. “This can’t be good.”
“I’m just thinking?—”
Ian closes his eyes. “Stop thinking.”
“Why can’t you and I”—Bodie, undeterred, gestures between himself and Ian—“do what Rose does all the time?”
“Set off glitter bombs and start brawls at strip clubs?” Ian deadpans, apparently unimpressed with his suggestion.
Bodie waves Ian’s question away before I can ask if those are real examples or exaggerations. “No. I mean play Cupid.”
Ian and I stare, probably both thinking that his wife has been a bad influence on the normally level-headed astronaut.
I recover first. “Wow. Bodie.” Pressing one hand to my chest in gratitude, I use the other to signal a passing waitress for a second round. “I’m both touched and worried that the women in your life may be getting you a littletooin touch with your feminine side.”
Ian smirks.
Bodie, less impressed with my joke, quirks an eyebrow. “You’re quite snarky for a guy who just got nut-shot by his crush.”
