Never Fall for Your Back-Up Guy by Kate O’Keeffe

Chapter 16

Irub my eyes as I lean back against the rocking chair, Lottie regarding me with a concerned look from her yoga mat on the living room floor. “But that’s the thing, Lottie. It feels like everything’s changed and I don’t even know how to be around him anymore.”

She shifts her weight and moves into warrior pose, looking strong and Amazonian in her shorts and form-fitting top—if Amazonians wore Lycra and were only 5 foot 3 inches tall, that is.

“I want things to go back to the way they were before—when we were just us, Asher and Zara, hanging out, having fun together.”

“It’s only natural that you feel different about him. We all do and it’s because we know what he’s been through.”

“So, you’re saying I feel bad for him?”

“Of course you do, babe.” She glides into another pose I don’t know the name for.

“Hmm.” I turn the idea over in my head. Knowing that Asher has been hurt so deeply by a woman has made me feel sorry for him. That fits.

“Next time you see him, make sure to have some fun, and keep it light. You know?”

“Keep it light. Oh, you’re so clever, Lottie. I’ve been twisting myself up over this for no good reason at all. I just feel bad for him. That’s all.”

“Exactly.” Lottie readjusts her position, moving into downward dog. I get an eyeful of bum. Good bum, but bum all the same.

Stevie wakes up from her curled-up position on her bed in the corner, spots Lottie with her face close to the ground, stampedes over to her on her oversized puppy paws, and promptly plants a big lick on her nose.

Lottie bats her gently away with one hand. “Ugh, Stevie!”

“Stevie, come here, girl,” I say, and my newly obedient—mostly—dog bounds over to me, her tail swooshing. I pick her up and plant a kiss on the top of her warm, soft head.

Really, Dog Diva Denise might have one too many screws loose for my liking, but she’s doing wonders for Stevie’s behaviour.

“Of course, there is another possibility.” Lottie pushes herself back up to a standing position, her face doing an imitation of a strawberry from the yoga effort, and then immediately flops down onto the sofa in a heap of limbs. “Thank goodness that’s done.”

“I’m impressed you’re actually doing it.”

“I’m trying to be healthy and Zen.” She pulls a face. “It’s a work in progress.”

“What’s the other possibility?”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you could be in love with the guy?”

I choke out a surprised laugh. “In love with him? With Asher? Where the heck did that come from?”

“Why not? You get on really well and you spend loads of time together. You’re practically an old married couple at times. We’ve all noticed it.”

“You mean the type of married couples who don’t have sex?” I reply with a wry smile.

“You know what I mean. You fit. You work. Plus, there’s the small matter of the fact you chose him to be your back-up guy, and he said yes. I mean, how convenient would it be for you to fall in love with the guy who’s agreed to marry you in less than five years’ time? Very, is the answer, Zee. Very convenient.”

I shake my head at her vehemently, instantly rejecting the notion as utterly preposterous. “You’ve lost your mind. There’s no way I’m in love with Asher. No way! For starters, he’s married,” I shoot her a meaningful look.

“Separated and probably divorced,” she corrects.

“We don’t know that. And if that’s not enough of a reason, then there’s the fact that he ran away after she cheated on him. Who knows? Maybe he’s still in love with her. Plus, he’s…well, he’s Asher. You know?”

She shoots me a meaningful look. “Oh, I know.”

“What does that mean?”

She ignores my question. “Do you realise that the two main reasons why you say you’re not in love with the guy are to do with how you think he feels?”

“That’s one hundred percent not true,” I huff.

She counts them off on her fingers. “He’s married, and he’s probably still in love with his wife.”

She’s got a point.

“How do you feel about him? That’s what you need to ask yourself. Forget all the stuff about his wife.”

I arch my eyebrows. “Did you just hear yourself?”

She waves her hand. “Oh, you know what I mean. They’re not together.”

“Unless he’s got her stashed away in the attic.”

She shoots me a sardonic smile. “Does his flat even have an attic?”

“Well, no. It’s more of a metaphor than anything.”

“A metaphorical attic?”

“The point is, I’m not in love with him. I’d know if I was,” I reply with assuredness. Because the idea is beyond ridiculous.

Isn’t it?

I can’t fall for my back-up guy. No one does that. They’re a back-up for a reason. They’re not the first choice. In fact, they’re the very last palatable choice after you’ve exhausted other, more attractive avenues.

Only somehow, knowing what I now know about him, Asher’s morphed into my only avenue.

And it’s scaring the living daylights out of me.

* * *

The followingnight at puppy training, I’m wound up so tightly I could ignite into an impressive fireworks display at any moment.

Asher is his usual self, of course. He’s relaxed and easy going, happy to flirt with Dog Diva Denise and chat with the other dog owners. Me? I’m more of a mannequin than anything else tonight, with a frozen smile plastered across my face, my actions rigid. I’m concentrating so hard on not thinking about what Lottie said about me being in love with him that the real estate of my brain is almost entirely closed off. I’m left with a brain that has the capacity of a small, understairs cupboard.

He’s wearing a pair of form-fitting jeans and a T-shirt that shows off his impressively wide shoulders, long legs, and hints at the firm torso beneath.

It does nothing to me. Really. Nothing.

“Good girl, Stevie!” Dog Diva Denise says as Stevie sits on command, having completed an obstacle course in front of the whole class. “That’s how you do it. See the loose lead?” She brandishes Stevie’s pink lead at the class. “This dog has come a long way,” she adds, smiling at Asher and me. Well, at Asher. To her I’m just some irritating impediment. An irritating impediment that can’t even be trusted to walk their own dog in the puppy class.

“We’re so very proud of our girl,” Asher replies as he casually slinks his arm around my waist.

I freeze, his touch causing an unexpected jolt of electricity to charge through me at full speed.

He smiles down at me. “Aren’t we, honey?”

“Oh, uh, yes. We are so proud of…of Stevie,” I confirm with a rapidly moving head.

Asher shoots me a quizzical look and I force a smile.

“All right, you two,” Dog Diva Denise says. “Take the reins and show me how to do it. Completing this task will mean Stevie will graduate.” She proffers Stevie’s lead, and I take it in my hand. “Make her sit, make her stay while you move to the other side of the room, then call her and make her sit once more before you reward her with a treat.”

I eye Stevie. That’s a lot for me to remember, let alone a puppy who’s only a matter of months old.

“You got this,” Asher says to me.

I lift my gaze to his and the warmth and kindness in his eyes has my heart leaping into my mouth.

That’s when it hits me. Hard.

I’ve got it bad for my best friend.

I suck in air. How the heck could I have let this happen?

“Chop chop!” Dog Diva Denise instructs, and I drag my eyes from Asher’s and spring into action.

I tug on Stevie’s lead and do the hand gesture Dog Diva Denise taught us to instruct her to sit, which she does instantly, her eyes trained on me. I resist the urge to lean down and pat her for being such a good doggie, and instead tell her to stay, say a little prayer as I drop the lead, and walk over to the other side of the room. I stop and turn and call her over to me, and she comes bounding towards me with such joy, a massive smile bursts out across my face. Immediately, I instruct her to sit, and after a moment in which I fear she’ll fail at the last hurdle, she promptly plops her doggie bum down on the floor and gazes up at me.

“She did it!” I declare in excitement. I pull out a treat from my pocket and feed it to her as I give her a congratulatory pat. “Who’s a good girl?” I coo.

Later, I’m clutching onto Stevie’s graduation certificate as Asher and I walk down the street.

“Stevie, you hit it out of the park!” Asher says.

“She was amazing. Personally, I think she was so scared of Dog Diva Denise back there that she did whatever I told her, just so she wouldn’t take over her control again.”

“She’s a smart dog.”

I smile down at Stevie as she happily trots along the footpath beside me. “You’re telling me.”

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks me, and I’m instantly back on guard, Stevie’s glory no longer providing me with the protective shield of mere seconds ago.

“Yeah, I’m just a little tense. That’s all.” Tense because I’m pretty sure I’ve got feelings for you that go way beyond friendship and you’re married to a woman who cheated on you with your best friend and you left the US to come here and now I don’t feel like I know you at all even though you seem like my good friend, Asher and you look so hot…

There’s a chance I may be a little wound up.

“Is it work stuff?” he asks, giving me an easy out.

I leap on it. “Oh, yeah. Work is pretty stressful right now.”

“It’s that demanding client in Notting Hill, isn’t it? The devastatingly handsome and charismatic one.”

“You think rather a lot of yourself, don’t you?”

“I’m just saying what you’re thinking,” he replies with a grin.

I slow my pace outside his building, and he pauses and looks back at me after bounding up the steps to the front door. “I thought you were coming up to watch the game with me.”

“Oh, I should probably get going.”

“Come on, Zee. You promised to watch baseball with me and so far, all you’ve managed is one measly game weeks ago. Plus, I’ve got a great looking flat now by this cool new London designer.”

“Don’t you have any guy friends you can watch it with? I mean, not only am I British and know next to nothing about baseball, but I’m a girl, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I noticed,” he replies with a laugh. “Look, I’ll furnish you with good snacks and beer.” He shoots me his smile, and I let out a breath.

“Sure. Why not.”

How awkward can it be sitting alone in close proximity to a guy I’ve just recently realised I’ve got some major feelings for?

Very, is the answer. Very awkward indeed.

With a bunch of guys in baseball clothes on the TV—which is fitting, considering we’re watching a baseball game and all—and Stevie sound asleep at my feet, I try my best to relax against the back of the sofa with Asher next to me. He got us a couple of beers when we arrived, and I’m clutching onto mine and taking frequent sips to try to quell my nerves.

Asher regards me through questioning eyes. “Are you practicing the Alexander technique or something tonight?”

“The what now?”

“You know, the standing tall thing Lottie was into a while back? You’re all tense.” He slaps the back cushion next to him. “Lean back. Take a load off. Your dog graduated at the top of her class and I’m sure she’ll be invited back to give a valedictorian speech sometime soon. So chill, ’kay?”

I let out a giggle, loosening up a notch. “I can totally see Stevie in a cap and gown.”

“Don’t go getting any ideas. I’ve seen the costumes in that Penelope’s Pooches store. Stevie will have to give back her cool dog card if you put her in one of those.”

“Aw, you think Stevie is cool.”

“I’ll admit it. The little tyke’s grown on me.”

I lean slowly back against the cushion and shoot him a smile.

I can do this. This is Asher. That’s all. I’m making a much bigger deal of this whole thing than I should be.

I flick my eyes from the TV to his face and get a start when I see him watching me with a weird look on his face I can’t quite decipher. “What?” I ask, as though I haven’t been wrestling with my feelings for him.

“Nothing. Can we watch the game now, please?”

“You’re the one interrupting it. I’m beyond excited to see whether the white stripe-y team is going to beat the blue team. That’s a nice blue, by the way.”

“How dare you,” he mocks. “We’re Padres supporters here.”

“Padres?”

“The San Diego team. They’re the white team. I told you this last time, remember?”

“Yeah, sure, but Padres? Isn’t that Spanish for priests?”

“Check you out, knowing stuff. You’re totally right. Padre does mean priest. San Diego was where the first Mission was located in California. Hence the name.”

“I’m getting a history lesson, too?”

He grins at me. “It’s all part of the baseball experience.” Looking back at the screen he says, “What a hit!”

The ball sails right through the air into the stadium seats, where people in the crowd scramble to retrieve it.

“Is that a six?” I ask him.

“Zara, we’ve been over this. A six is when a player hits a ball over the boundary in cricket. It’s not called a six in baseball.”

“Because it’s so different.”

“It is,” he insists, and it makes me laugh. “What?”

“You’re funny.”

“I’m trying to watch the game here.”

“Okay. Tell me what’s happening as it happens, and I will try my best to follow.”

As he launches into explaining how many swings a batter gets and how the bases work, I relax into my seat. It feels like the two of us hanging out, just as it always has, and my weird, perplexing feelings about him begin to fade.

Before long, I’m whooping with him when the Padres score, commiserating when their batters are out, and genuinely involved in the game.

Things get tense when it’s down to the wire. One bad pitch and the Padres could lose. We’re both on the edge of our seats, watching the final play closely, when the Cubs’ batter swings and misses and the Padres instantly jump up and down and race around the field.

Asher and I both leap up in excitement from our spots on the sofa, Asher punching the air and me bouncing up and down on the spot, cheering.

“Yes!” he says as he turns his bright face towards me. “We did it!”

“Go Padres!” I reply, and he scoops me up in his arms and bounces me around in a circle until I’m dizzy.

“Do you have any idea what this means?”

I throw my head back and laugh. “No, I don’t.”

“It means everything,” he replies as he sets me back on the ground and beams at me.

And then, without a breath of warning, the atmosphere around us changes.

It could be the softness in his eyes as he looks at me, or the excitement in the air, or the simple fact that we’re standing facing one another, his arms still around me, the heat from his body pressed against mine, heightening my senses.

Whatever it is, whatever has brought about this change, when I look up at him, I know that it’s not pity I feel for him. It’s something else. Something big.

And I need to know if he feels it, too.

With my heart hammering in my chest, my throat dries up, and I try to swallow. We hold our gaze for a beat, two, and then, without warning, he breaks it, pulling back from me.

And just as soon as it began, the moment has gone.

“Great game, huh?” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair.

I clear my throat, my heart rate still thinking I’ve sprinted to the top of Primrose Hill. “Yeah. Great game.”

He collects the empty beer bottles from the coffee table and moves across the room towards the kitchen. “Supporting the Padres can be challenging, but times like this sure make it worthwhile.”

I draw my lower lip between my teeth, emotions and thoughts forming a confused rabble in my mind.

Was that a moment?

Does he feel it too?

Did we almost…kiss?

I remain rooted to the spot as he returns to the living room and picks up the empty bowl of chips. He stops and looks at me, and as though in a daze, I lift my gaze to his.

“Are you heading home now? I’ve got an early morning breakfast meeting tomorrow that I need to be sharp for.”

I spring into action. “Breakfast meeting. Right. I’ll, err, I’ll go then.” With heat rising in my cheeks like the mercury on a hot Southern California day, I slip on my shoes, fling the strap of my handbag over my shoulder, and scoop a sleeping Stevie up from the floor.

Asher follows me to the door and pulls it open for me.

I glance at him to try to work out what the heck just happened, but his face is impassive.

He reaches out and pats Stevie’s head and says, “Well done again, champ. See you both soon.”

I avert my eyes and mumble my goodbye before I bolt out of his flat, a cocktail of confusion, humiliation, and regret churning inside of me.

He doesn’t feel anything for me. It’s all in my head.

And the sooner I get over him, the better off we’ll all be.