Page 34 of Between Then and Now
“Not-so-annoying person… what a standard to uphold,” I snicker as I look down at my drink.
Bon chuckles softly, her laughter echoing in the quiet of the night. “Hey, it's a high bar to set,” she replies with a grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But seriously, Ryan, you're doing great. Just relax and let it flow. You've got this.”
I smile, feeling a swell of gratitude. “Thanks, Bon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She waves it off with a grin. “You’d probably be lost in a sea of awkward silences and terrible stories.”
I laugh, but what I don’t say out loud is that I don’t just mean the whole deal with Alexa. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without Bon in my life. It’s a simple truth, and if you asked me a month ago, I would’ve said it’s because she was a friend and a fun presence. That I feel the same way towards everyone back home.
But now, as I sit here, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight and the warmth of her friendship, I realize it isn’t just because we have fun together or that she makes me laugh. I genuinely enjoy (and prefer) her company. Being with her is comforting. Like resting after a long, tiring day. Whatever that means, I have no words to capture it yet.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bonita
Iblame the stupid stars and the stupid view. Yep. There’s nothing else to account for my internal organs somersaulting into each other. I can barely ingest my tea because I’m pretty sure any newcomer to my stomach would be promptly evicted through a very unappealing episode of Vomiting My Guts Out.
Ryan is my friend, and I’m helping him date his dream girl.Even the first phrase feels harder to accept these days. Yet, it doesn’t mean it’s not true, because Ryan is my friend. He has been for the longest time. And whatever I’m starting to feel right now shouldn’t change anything.
Besides, I only think he’s a little cute. Big deal. It’s not like I didn’t notice it before. He’s always been good-looking. The only reason I’m giving it extra attention today is obviously because of the stars, the view, and the whole practice-date situation going on where we’re sitting on the too-small hood of the car, causing our knees to brush against each other. Take all that away and he’s back to being just Ryan, my grumpy friend. Ryan, who hates marshmallows on his cocoa and only likes cheese pizza. Ryan, whose wardrobe is eighty percent white and twenty percent other neutrals. Ryan, who drinks plain coffee and plain tea and scoffs at my sugar-infused choices because he’s boring as hell. Ryan, who repels the good things in life.
I’ll get over this… This feeling–or whatever the hell this glitch in my system is. It will fade away in due time. I give it three days, tops. As I’m starting to convince myself, a strong gust of wind blows our way, making Ryan’s shirt cling to his chest and tousling his hair over his face. He brushes his fingers against it and… were his arms always this big? And when did his chest turninto hard pecs? And I think his shoulders are broader than they were this morning.
Oh my god, what’s happening to you, Bon?
Ugh. Everything that’s been going on tonight is something planned by the minions of hell to make me feel uneasy and question everything I’ve ever known about Ryan and myself. I’m pretty sure they orchestrated everything–from the perfect alignment of the constellations in the sky to that strong gust of wind, to the strange flutters in my stomach.
I shake my head to bring myself back to reality. We start driving back to the inn in silence. It isn’t our usual comfortable silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable either. The night air is filled with the distant melody of waves crashing against the shore, a soothing backdrop to the turmoil in my mind. We continue in the silence until we make our way back to our shared room after Ryan parks the car in front of the inn.
I take a deep breath. I will not let this bother me. I’m allowed to find my friend attractive and still not want to date him. This whole situation is absurd, and I need to shut down my overactive brain before it spirals into more unnecessary thoughts.
“You’re gonna kill it on Saturday. Just don’t be weird, okay?” I say as we enter the door, attempting to salvage this evening from any awkwardness–awkwardness which, I admit, might just be conjured by my weird brain.
Ryan looks at me and chuckles, a familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’m never weird.”
I roll my eyes, but a small smile tugs at my lips. We’re gonna be fine.
I just need a Ryan detox. I’m convinced that a day without seeing him will flush all these flutters out of my system. So, when he asked me to grab breakfast earlier this morning, I told him I had to interview other doctors that were stationed in the other areas. Which is actually true. My documentary is coming together quite beautifully, I’ve already captured enough footage of the main inn triage and the town proper. I’m now going to film those stationed on the beaches and in the deeper parts of the countryside, even those conducting house-to-house.
Pulling my wagon full of film gear, I don’t notice John in front of me, and we almost collide.
“Sorry!” He says as he peeks from the boxes and handfuls of stuff he was carrying. “Where to, Bon?”
“Off to interview the ones down the coast. You?” I reply, adjusting my camera bag.
He holds up his pile of equipment and says, “Off to duty at the coast,” with a smile. “Looks like we're headed in the same direction.”
We walk together for a bit, exchanging stories about our work. John is one of those people who always has an interesting anecdote or a funny observation, and he always has a cheerful demeanor–in all three times we’ve spoken–which reminds me a lot of, well, me.
“How’s the film going?” he asks as we enter the sandy area of the beach.
“Great, so far.” I offer him a hopefully warm smile.
“Until there is enough footage of me, I wouldn’t call it great,” he playfully says.
“Well, maybe today’s your lucky day,” I say, gesturing to my camera.
“Alright, then. I’ll make my entrances more cinematic. Maybe add a wink or two?” He turns so he’s facing me instead of walking beside me, then he winks. It makes me chuckle, and I admit that it’s also cute in a way. But not the way that makes my traitorous stomach do weird flips. That act is something that the bastard reserves for conversations with my friend.
