We look at each other, slipping out of our made-up reality and back into the one that actually exists.
I sit up in my chair, straightening out my legs and pulling the blanket up higher. “Or maybe we would have had a cordial first meeting at the pre-wedding party and nothing more. You would have hooked up with one of Cristina’s work friends and we never would have spoken again.”
“You might have met someone else in college and got married young. You’d show up to the wedding in your minivan full of Cheerios crumbs with your husband and five kids.”
“It’s very possible,” I say. “I guess we’ll never know.”
“Guess not.”
I take a slow breath, feeling a little light-headed and confused after our impromptu “what if” role-play. I pause for a second before clapping my hands onto my knees. “I think it’s time to call it a night.” I get up from the chair, pushing off the blanket and leaving it on the ottoman. “If you’re compelled to perform any more jigs this evening, I’d appreciate it if you kept the volume down.”
“I can do that.”
I give him two thumbs up and walk towards my bedroom but stop midway, deciding to take off my sweater to leave in the living room for tomorrow. Facing away from him, I bend my arms behind my back and slip the sweater down. It’s nearly off when my left sleeve somehow gets caught on the claddagh ring I forgot I was wearing on my right hand. My arm is now pinned tightly behind my back like I’m in a straitjacket.
How befitting.
I push my shoulder blades back in hopes of freeing my ring but end up feeling a piercing pain in my left shoulder. I can’t help but let out a small yelp.
“What’s the matter?” Ryan asks, immediately getting up.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” I desperately try to wiggle out of the sweater. I push my shoulder back again and suck in a loud breath from the sting.
Ryan is now standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders. “You’re not fine,” he says in a somewhat stern voice, gently tugging at my sweater. “What happened to your arm?”
I feel him slip his hand into my sleeve and over my wrist, twisting the ring around on my finger.
“It’s just sore. I banged my shoulder a bit when I took Duke for his walk today.”
I’m quickly freed as Ryan pulls the ring off my finger and the sweater down my arms, placing them both onto the coffee table. I turn around to face him and am surprised when he doesn’t move away.
“Banged it on what?” he asks.
“It’s actually a funny story.” I try to get comfortable with Ryan’s close proximity but it’s easier said than done. “Duke and I were leaving my friend’s apartment this afternoon when he got excited and kind of ran down the stairs full force.”
Ryan’s eyes remain locked on mine. “And he pulled your shoulder out?”
“No. I didn’t fall or anything, but he dragged me along for a few seconds and I wound up crashing into a door.”
My explanation earns me a pitying look. “I’m sorry, Sullivan. I should have told you Duke can get overexcited on his walks.”
“It’s fine. I probably won’t even feel it tomorrow.” I’m gearing up for my next retreat when Ryan turns me back around and pulls me towards him. “What are you doing?” I immediately ask.
“Where does it hurt? Here?” His hands slip under and past the neck of my shirt to squeeze the bare skin of my shoulders.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, in no way wanting him to stop but also feeling somehow guilty.
“Will you relax? This is my fault. The least I can do is rub your shoulders.”
I decide not to argue. It’s just a shoulder rub. No need to fight it. I stare straight ahead at the row of books in front of me, thinking I’ll rank them in descending order, but the titles all seem blurry.
Ryan shifts the top of my shirt over to one side, pulling it down to expose my left shoulder even more and rubbing the sensitive knot. It’s starting to take more concentration to regulate my breathing.
After that, I don’t know if I move backwards or he moves forward, but his chest brushes up against my spine and I can feel the firmness of his muscles through the fabric of our clothes. We’re pushed up against each other now, so much so that I almost brace myself against the bookcase in front of me.
His hands slip down my arms and back up again, leaving a trail of sensitive heat everywhere he skims. He follows the same quiet rhythm and repeats it several times before his hands stop moving by my wrists. I look down as our fingers intertwine. I can feel his breath against the back of my neck, giving me goose bumps and making my shirt feel impossibly tight. I’m nervous and curious and hungry to feel more and all of a sudden, Maggie’s seduction list comes barreling into my mind.
If I were the shy, cautious version of myself, I’d thank Ryan for the massage and walk away. If I were the romance-novel version of myself, I would turn and face him. One of the actions on the list was to create physical contact. If I’m ever going to check that item off, the time is now.
My breath is shaky as I shift around to meet Ryan’s gaze. It’s as heated as mine and none of this seems real, like I’m living inside some nostalgically sexy fever dream. His fingers untangle from mine and his hands slide to the small of my back, scrunching the material of my shirt together in his tight grip as he pulls me closer. Being surrounded by him feels incredible. My hands skate up his arms and shoulders, barely brushing the surface until my fingers push into the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes almost close as his forehead
