"Oh, you mean that night you took me home, fucked me, and then left without making sure I had an orgasm?" I say, popping the cap off the beer and pouring it into a glass. Ian snorts behind me and Tom and Abby are staring at me open mouthed. "No, I wasn't working here then, I started a couple days later. That'll be six bucks," I finish, holding out my hand for his payment.
He opens his mouth to say something and then I see his eyes swing to Ian who has shifted his weight behind me and Jake quickly closes his mouth and begins digging in his wallet. I look at Ian and see he's pinned Jake with a death stare. Shit, that'd shut me the fuck up too.
"Keep the change," Jake mumbles as he pushes a $10 bill my way and quickly retreats to a booth.
"What a loser," Ian says, watching Jake retreat.
"You can say that again," I say, clearing the glasses of the women who had just vacated Tom's stool.
"He really didn't get you off?" Tom asks, taking his seat.
"Nope."
"Douchebag," Tom grouses before turning his attention to Ben and starting a conversation on the merits of Firefly fan fiction.
"Definitely," Ian says quietly behind me.
I don't acknowledge his comment but it makes me smile. He certainly never had any problem making me come. Unfortunately, thinking about Ian making me come, and feeling his body behind mine, has me flushed and aching. I need to find a new job, and fast!
******
I wake up early Saturday morning still thinking about Ian; I can't get him off my mind. I know that I need to move on, and I know that once I get a new job, that'll be a lot easier to do. But for now, while I'm still seeing him five or six days a week, it is hell. His comment about missing me really stuck with me. I miss him too. I miss his warm smile. I miss making him laugh, where he throws back his head and releases this full, throaty laugh that rumbles throughout my entire body. And of course, I miss his touch.
I spend a little time thinking more about his touch, with B.O.B. in hand, and then hop in the shower. I'm thinking about what I'm going to do today when I remember it's Ian's birthday. His 30th birthday. Heeding Pappy's advice, we all stopped talking about it and it slipped my mind. I wonder what he's doing today.
I pull out my phone.
Happy Birthday old man. What are you doing to celebrate?
A few seconds later:
Thanks. I'm going on a tour of a couple assisted living facilities. Care to join me?
I laugh out loud and shake my head as I respond,
Always looking to the future, you are. You sure you wouldn't rather do something a tad more fun?
What did you have in mind?
Wait, what? Oh, right, I suppose that did sound like an offer. Shit, time to think quickly … I cast my eyes around my apartment trying to think of something when divine intervention strikes.
Give me ten minutes, I need to check on something.
I jump online and do a bit of research. Grabbing my phone, I make a quick call before writing:
It's a surprise. If you want to actually have fun on your birthday, pick me up at 2:30pm. Dress casually.
My stomach is a ball of nerves as I wait for his response. I basically just asked him out on a date. Is that really a smart thing to do? No, absolutely not. But dammit, I miss him too. I wish he would never have said that because I can't stop thinking about how much I miss him. And this will be in a public place. And I'll keep my distance, absolutely no touching. Shit, why isn't he texting?
My phone chimes.
See you then.
I exhale. Here we go.
I'm waiting out front when Ian pulls up. It is only 2:25pm but I couldn't stand around in my apartment any longer. I am so nervous, I want to throw up. I'm also very excited. Far more excited than I have any right to be. Ian and I are moving apart, not getting closer, but this opportunity to have one more outing with him has me walking on air.
He pulls up to the curb and quickly jumps out. He's parked a little ways off, to make sure he has time to come around and open my door before I get there.
"You do realize that opening a woman's car door is an extremely old fashioned move, right?" I say with a smile.
"Yes, and you love it," he replies, closing the door and running back around to his side.
"Yeah, I do," I say as he hops into the cab.
"Where are we off to?" he asks, eyeing me curiously. He's in a good mood; he seems … light. Maybe even happy? It makes me smile.
"I'm not telling. Take the 10 east, exit Fairfax, head north. I'll give you more directions once we get to that point."
"Ms. Mysterious. I must say, I'm intrigued," Ian says with a smirk. Pulling into traffic, his face sobers and he asks, "Is this weird? That we are doing this?"
"What?" I ask. "Is it weird that a couple of friends are going out to celebrate one's birthday? No, it isn't weird Ian, it's what people do."
"Is that what we are? Friends?"
I take a moment before I respond. "I hope we are. I hope we can be. For now, at least. When you said you missed me the other night, it really hit me: I miss you too. I promise, I am looking for a job, and I'll take the first one I can stomach. Until then, well, I hope we can be friends because ignoring you isn't really an option."
"I lied you know. I don't really want you to find another job," he says quietly.
I shake my head. "Yes, you do. It has to happen, Ian. If we can't be together, and you say we can't be, then I can't be around you. It'll drive us crazy. You may have resigned yourself to a lonely life, but I'm not ready to do that. I haven't had much luck in the dating game, and my expectations are not particularly high, but I'm not ready to check out of the game all together just yet."
"So we'll be friends until you leave," he says.
"We'll be friends until I leave," I concur.
He nods and reaches to turn up the music. He's got Mumford & Sons playing and we stop talking and start singing.
About forty minutes later we arrive at our destination. It's an unassuming building with no marking except the address.
Ian opens my door and I hop out. "Where the fuck are we?" he asks.
"We're here!" I say brightly, heading into the building.
"Well, that was enlightening," he mutters behind me as he follows me inside.
We enter a large open room. It looks messy and cluttered, with tall steel rods sticking out from numerous buckets and lying across large work tables. Well worn gloves that look like extra large oven mitts are lined up on the table to our left and a series of small metal oven-like apparatus line the back wall.
Walking in from an open side door, a middle-aged man enters the room. He's covered in tattoos and has a shaved head and large hoop nose ring.
"You Kelli?" he asks, walking up to me and taking off the black leather apron he has on.
"I am," I say. "And this is Ian."
"Great, I'm Tony," he takes my hand, shaking it. He turns to Ian, "Happy Birthday, man."
Ian looks confused and moves slowly. Taking Tony's hand, he manages a "thanks" before turning to look questioningly at me.
Ready to finally let him in on the secret, I say, "Tony here is going to give us a glass blowing lesson. I told him you've done it once before, but that it was long ago. I, of course," I finish, turning to Tony, "have never done it."
"No worries," he says. "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it in no time." He motions to the table with the mitts, where I now see is some paperwork as well. "Do me a favor, fill out those forms while I get things ready. I'll be back in a minute." He disappears back out onto the patio.
I'm a little afraid, but I chance a look at Ian. He looks stunned. I realize I've fucked up.
"Oh, Ian, I'm sorry!" I say, grabbing his hand. "I thought you'd like this. I thought the memory of your mother made you happy. I know it is kinda sad, but I thought blowing glass would make you feel closer to her. You have all of her beautiful work in your place, I thought it might be cool to add another piece of your own. I was going to give you mine too, if you wanted it."
He's looking at me now, still not speaking, so I rush on. "We can totally leave. No problem! Let me go talk to Tony and then we can get out of here. I should have just let you have your quiet birthday. I'm sorry." I take a step towards the patio but Ian hasn't released my hand. I tug on it gently and he looks down at it. Then he looks at my face and I gasp.
A tear makes its way down Ian's cheek. Forgetting myself, I step into him, our torsos touching, and put a hand to his cheek and to wipe it away.