Page 31 of Running Into You
Josh insists on preparing them and I settle on the couch and wait. I run my hand over emotional support pillow, Carol, thinking about how much has happened in the last few weeks. It almost feels like a drawn-out dream that just won’t end. Not that I want it to end.
I really don’t want this to end.
Josh joins me with the warm treats, the scent of artificial strawberries making me so happy. We sit facing each other, our legs intertwined on the couch, the plate of Pop-Tarts between us. I haven’t had one in years, but they taste exactly as I remember.
“Betty,” Josh says, then stops. I hold my breath and freeze in place, waiting for him to continue. “I haven’t been single since high school. I moved here to give myself the space to figure some things out, to figure me out. So far, I don’t know how much of that I’ve accomplished. I need to be able to tell you the truth. And the truth is that I want you.” He pauses. “But I’m not ready to be in a relationship again. Not until I’m sure I won’t immediately fuck it up.”
“Do you just want to pretend this didn’t happen?” I ask quietly, not sure that I want him to answer.
“What? Jesus, no Betty.” He comes closer to me on the couch, stretching my legs out over his. His expression is pained, and I know the last thing he wants to do is upset me. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to, and I really don’t want to. But I don’t know where we go from here. And I don’t know what you want.”
I let myself stare at him for all of five seconds before answering him.
“I don’t do relationships. I’m not built for them. But I want to keep having sex with you.” I don’t even blush when I say it, and it’s obvious from the stunned look on his face I’ve shocked him. “You don’t want a relationship either, right? So, let’s just continue on without the labels. We’re friends and neighbors who run together and have sex if we feel like it.”
“And that’s enough for you?” Doubt is written all over his face.
“It’s more than I have right now.” I shrug, trying not to wilt under his gaze. I’m doing my best to act casual, but I’m not sure if I’m selling it. He continues to watch me, saying nothing. I break my Pop-Tarts into small pieces, arranging them into different shapes on my plate and putting the occasional one in my mouth.
“Alright.” He nods slowly after what feels like a lifetime. “We’ll see where it goes.” Relief floods through me and I realize just how much I wasn’t ready to give this up.
“I think we need some ground rules,” I say, straightening up. I always need a set of rules to follow, even if I’m the only one who knows about them. Rules keep me calm. They keep me safe and prevent me from getting hurt.
“Definitely,” he agrees, brushing a few crumbs from his shirt. “You go first.”
“The jealous boyfriend routine is over.”
“Done,” he says without hesitation. “I’m sorry again for that. I don’t want to be that guy. I’ve never been that guy. I shouldn’t have let my insecurities get the best of me.”
“Admitting you’re insecure is super hot,” I admit.
“Really?” He raises an eyebrow as he hauls me into his lap and captures my face in his hands. “Would you like to hear about my daddy issues next?”
“Later.” I laugh, snuggling into him. “One other thing. I would prefer if you weren’t sleeping with anyone else while we’re doing this.” I look down at his chest as I say this, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to my face.
“Neither of us will be. That’s non-negotiable.” He levels me with his eyes, and I relax at his confirmation. “And as soon as this,” he swallows. “arrangement isn’t working for you; you need to let me know so I can pull out.” The snort of laughter escapes before I can try to hold it back. He rolls his eyes at me as he tips me back onto the couch, climbing on top of me. “Seriously? Laughing because I said ‘pull-out’?” I continue to giggle like a little kid as he pins my arms over my head. His eyes focus on my mouth and I’m not laughing anymore. “What am I going to do with you?”
My heart pounds in my chest as I stare up at him. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Chapter 18
Betty
I’m pleasantly sore as I walk to Maggie’s the next morning. Every step reminds me of last night’s events, and I am having a hard time focusing. I think back to the way Josh looked at me, the feel of his hands on my skin, the weight of his body on top of mine. I bump into an older man on the sidewalk and apologize profusely. I make a genuine effort to watch where I’m going, not wanting to walk into oncoming traffic. Again.
Round two last night had been slower and less frenzied. Every movement was deliberate, every touch had a purpose. We took our time, not driven by pure need. It was more playful and every bit as satisfying as before. Josh went back to his place shortly after two in the morning and I fell into the most blissful, dreamless sleep. When I awoke, I lay there going over this new turn of events. Josh and Me. Together, but not together. I remain convinced that this is the best possible scenario for both of us. He doesn’t want to be in a relationship, I suck at them. We get to keep our friendship and occasionally see each other naked. Why doesn’t everyone do this? Everyone is a winner.
I enter the salon and find Maggie alone standing on a chair, rearranging her soaps. Her dark curls are piled high on her head and she’s humming a song I can’t quite place. I’d decided on the way here not to tell her about how things have progressed with Josh, because the fewer people who voice their opinions, the better. She looks over her shoulder when she notices me and almost topples off the chair.
“Bagel delivery!” I hold up a bag of her favorite chocolate chip bagels. Before meeting Maggie, I hadn’t met anyone over the age of ten who ate chocolate chip bagels. Seeing as I refueled my sex-depleted body with four Pop-Tarts last night, I am in no position to pass judgment.
Maggie hops down and comes to take the bagels, but stops in her tracks when she looks at me. She holds up her index finger and proceeds to make large, loopy figure eights in my direction.
“Josh or Andrew?” she asks bluntly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie. She knows. Of course, she knows. She always knows.
“You just showed up with my favorite bagels and sex-face. So, was it Josh or Andrew?” I had been keeping her posted via text throughout the week. She knew about the marathon, that I was running with Josh, and that I had plans with Andrew last night. Knowing there is no point in attempting to deceive her, I come clean.
