Don't Look Back

Chapter 17 - Sylvia

December 2018
Boston, MA, USA

Our footsteps crunching on the snow, Ian leads me to a park bench far away from the trodden path. Before I sit down, he brushes off the slush and rests his coat on the top so that my clothes don't get sodden. Even though we are fighting. That's how deeply ingrained his chivalry goes.

Gesturing for me to take a seat, he sits beside me in silence, giving no indication how cold he must feel in a simple suit jacket. We're close. Dangerously close. Like when we were seated on the organ bench.

His eyes flash like lightning. I'm not afraid of his intensity, though I am keenly aware of our proximity. All it would take is one small movement to close the gap between us.

When Ian breaks his stare to glance at my lips, a flurry of butterflies erupts in my stomach.

I clear my throat and back away. "So, about Helena. If you aren't dating, what in the world is it?"

After a deep breath, Ian begins. "We were what a less couth person might call 'friends with benefits.'"

Friends with benefits?

Wait, what?

"We share rent and utilities," he continues. "We cook together. Sit on the sofa and watch movies. We talk. Sometimes we jog together. And yes, twice a week we used to let off some steam. Not anymore."

My jaw drops.

"Since you've come back, I haven't touched her once," he says in a firm tone. "She sleeps in her own room, and we have strict rules. In fact, she's seeing someone as well. But it's more practical for two people to share the costs of rent and utilities. So, we decided to remain roommates until one of us decided to move in with someone else."

Still too speechless to comment.

"We're still each other's plus-ones because I hate attending social events on my own," he says. "So if you find us on social media together, that's why."

"Friends with benefits?" I scoff. "You?"

"Do you think I'm a monk?"

"I always thought you were--I don't know--a 'relationship' kinda guy."

"And what, pray tell, gave you that impression?" he asks, his tone laced with sarcasm. "The zero girlfriends I had in high school?"

"No, the one you had in college," I say with no small hint of sarcasm. "At least I hope I was the only one."

"You mean the one who left after I'd proposed to her?" he says in a partly condescending, partly incredulous tone. "You've taken it upon yourself to criticize me when you left me and married another man?"

"And I got separated!" I insist. "Whereas you're still with her."

"I was never with Helena," he says in a firm tone, "at least not the way you mean it. Please don't project your faith-based values onto me."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" I demand. "Don't bring religion into this."

"Of course you were the only woman for me. And you would have remained the only one had you stayed with me instead of running off to Europe."

Well, damn!

"But friends with benefits?" I ask. "Really? I didn't think you could be so superficial."

A muscle jumps in his defined jaw. "That wasn't, in truth, the full extent of our relationship."

"Go on...," I say with a grimace.