Page 39 of Roughing
Because you wanted to play with fire and see how badly it burns you.
That answer made as much sense as anything else.
“Someone’s coming out of his house.” Briggs pulled me back from the brink. I’d been about to go there and fantasize about this man. I don’t know how we managed to sit here in the dark and not rip each other’s clothes off.
It wasn’t easy, and that’s all I had to say about that.
I raised the binoculars to my eyes. A woman walked down Gordon’s front steps and toward a Mercedes sedan parked in the driveway. As she stepped from the shadows into the light, I realized who she was.
“That’s Gordon’s mother.” My excitement deflated to be replaced by disappointment.
“Maybe now that she’s gone, he’ll leave.”
“Or he’ll go to bed.”
We waited for his house to go dark or for him to leave for another hour.
“He’s a night owl,” I said.
Briggs snorted. “We’re sitting out here shivering in the cold, and he’s probably watching a movie and eating popcorn.”
“Probably. The bastard.”
“I could warm you up if you’re cold.”
I ignored his offer.
We lapsed into silence for several moments before Briggs cleared his throat and turned his head. “I want another chance,” he said.
“What?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right.
“I want to see you.”
“See me? Or fuck me?”
“Well, if you’re going to put it that way, both, I guess.”
“Briggs, I told you. What we had was fun but going nowhere. I need more than you can give, and I want more out of a partner than a fuck buddy.”
“I can do that.”
“Are you certain? You have one foot out the door. You hate Portland.”
“It’s growing on me.”
“Regardless, I’m not going back to how we were. I can’t do such a disservice to myself.”
“We don’t have to go back. We can go forward.”
“Says the man who’s emotionally unavailable and doesn’t share his innermost feelings. You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
I noticed he didn’t deny my accusations.
“Briggs, we haven’t been good together even though we can’t get enough of each other.”
“We could be good together. I’ll work on it.”
