The Fastest Way to Fall(50)

“Too bad,” Aaron said. “You would have been good at it.”

Britta had said the same thing before diving into her TILF description. Just then my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to check the screen.


Britta: Did you win?



I unlocked my phone, but Jake spoke before I could decide on an emoji response.

“Aaron, are we sure Wes is untethered?”

I looked up, and the two of them were smirking, enjoying their bit as fake commentators.

“Jake, from the look on his face when he got that text, I’d say the signs point to tethered.”

I shoved the phone back in my pocket and waved them off. “She’s a client.”

“Funny. None of my clients make me smile like that,” Jake joked. “Well, I guess Naya did.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Naya was a client?”

He took a drink from his glass before continuing. “Kind of. When Nay and I met, I was consulting for her university. The whole time, when we were first together, my company was making recommendations about her department being cut. That would have been a little before you started hanging out with us.”

“What happened?”

Jake shrugged. “We got through it, but it kind of sucked.”

Aaron groaned. “That was a mess.”

“How’d you get past it?”

Jake laughed. “We all have ethical codes, but between doing something professionally dicey and taking the risk to be with her?” He took a sip from his glass. “No contest.”



* * *





WE FINISHED MOST of our pitcher and talked for a while before heading home. Aaron’s comment that I would have been a good teacher stuck with me, and I decided not to check the growing number of FitMi emails in my inbox. Jake’s story about how he met Naya and about risk . . . that stuck with me, too.

I had a message waiting from Britta, and I made myself wait to respond. In the park the weekend before, I’d wanted to kiss her. My body and mind were there, and I was seconds away from lowering my mouth to hers. She’d tipped her face up, and I’d sworn it was a perfect moment.

But then that cyclist passed by and I’d realized where we were, and who we were, and that stopped me. Add to that Kelsey running into us, and there was too much risk involved. So, I’d waited to respond, not giving in to the urge to look as soon as I picked up my phone. Now, fresh from the shower and sitting on my bed, I unlocked the device.


Britta: Did you win?

Wes:

Wes: You know it. How was your workout?

     Britta: Helen kicked my butt as always. You should hire her.

Wes: Give her my info.

Britta: I’m not supposed to have your info, remember? I swear, I’m going to get you fired.



I leaned against the headboard, the wood cool on my bare back, my thumbs hovering over the screen keyboard. “Just have her contact FitMi” was easy advice, especially since Britta didn’t know my role at the company, but maybe this was my chance to come clean. I scratched at the stubble on my jaw before typing a reply, but she added another message first.


Britta: Can I ask you a personal question?

Wes: Sure.

Britta: It’s really personal, so you don’t have to answer.

Wes: Hit me.



The dots bounced and then stopped, her message hanging. My comfortable bedroom was now too warm, and I stared at my phone with an intensity that would have been embarrassing if anyone else was in the room.


Wes: Everything ok?



When she finally responded after another two minutes, what she said threw me.


Britta: Have you ever wanted someone you knew you shouldn’t?



Her question was so spot-on, I worried she’d seen through me at the park. Maybe she’d known exactly why I pulled back.


Wes: What do you mean?

Britta: Have you ever wanted to be with someone, like, romantically, but it would be inappropriate? Like, someone off-limits.



My heart rate sped, and I both wanted and didn’t want her to be talking about me. The possibility taunted me like a spark in the distance. If I’d spent a moment longer weighing out potential consequences, I wouldn’t have answered so openly.


Wes: Yes. Have you?

Britta: This is probably too weird to talk about, too personal. I don’t know why I asked. I just talk to you about everything.

Wes: Are you interested in someone you shouldn’t be?

Britta: Yeah.

Wes: Just physically or more?

Britta: Both. All. I’m interested in everything.

Britta: It’s hard to describe. I absolutely can’t have him, and I can’t stop imagining what if.



What if. I swallowed, anxiety, arousal, and hope battling inside me. I wanted her to be talking about me. So many of my what-ifs were about kissing her, and bringing her home, and memorizing her body when I woke with our limbs tangled. My thumb hovered over the call icon, and I suddenly wanted to hear her voice more than anything. This felt like that moment in the park, but there was no one around to stop us, and the risk felt worth it.

A FitMi notification flashed across the screen, an automated note to check my client’s weekly summary, the simple white box an ice-water reminder why nothing had changed since the park. I pulled my thumb away from the screen. I had to be sure first.