From Up Here

25

| | Ryan | |

"Are you sure you can't stay the night?" Dash's voice hums in my ear as he slowly traces circles on my stomach. 

"I have to work in the morning. All of my stuff is at my place." I turn my head to the side, so close that our noses touch. He pouts and I laugh before leaning in and kissing him, his hand moving to my hip - then lower as he deepens the kiss. 

"What about tomorrow night? You don't have to work on Thursday." He moves his mouth to my neck, trailing kisses as his hand wanders back to my stomach, inching south. I bite my lip and he makes a sound of approval, shifting his body so that he's now leaning over me. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer just as his hand vanishes beneath the blanket and I grab his hair. 

"So tomorrow night?"

I nod my head as he smiles and leans in to kiss me again, rolling so that he's now on top of me, using his hand to spread my legs apart even wider. God, can it just be Wednesday right now? 

"Wait." I open my eyes and find him hovering over me.

"What?" His hand stills and he puts a little more distance between us, like he's afraid he just did something wrong. 

"Tomorrow is Wild Wing Wednesday." Ryker and Link discovered this new wing place a few blocks over from the bike shop where they have 52 different sauces that you can pick from. Since I don't work Thursdays and Ryker goes in late on Thursdays, we decided that every Wednesday night we will order a different flavor and rent a movie that neither of us have even seen before. 

Even though it barely lasts a second, I see the annoyed expression that crosses Dash's face and I can see that he's resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Can't you skip it?" 

"It's tradition." Plus, I'm looking forward to it. This week I get to pick the flavor and movie, and I plan on getting him back for making me watch The Human Centipede.

"You've only done it twice." He moves his hand from its place beneath the covers and runs it through his hair. 

"I'm pretty sure that it still counts as a tradition. I mean, we've done it more than once and it's on the same day every week, so by definition - "

Rolling off of me and onto his side of the bed he says, "Ryan, you never spend the night with me. You always have an excuse." 

"It's not an excuse, it's Wild Wing Wednesday." 

"You say it like it's a national holiday."

"One day it very well could be. So far it's living up to the hype." I'm rambling, making jokes to avoid how uncomfortable this turn of conversation is making me. 

I've never spent the night with Dash before, because if I do, if I stay the night and wake up to him making me coffee and kissing me goodbye as he goes off to work, it will be real. It would make this thing between us real - it would mean that I agree to be his girlfriend, or at least means I am considering it. 

I don't think I can do that yet. Plus, just because I like him and enjoy spending time with him, it doesn't mean I want to commit to the first guy I date after Garrett. 

"Ryan."

"Dash." I keep my eyes on the ceiling, but I can feel him staring at me, waiting for me to face him. I can feel the tension building between us, can practically taste the questions that are dancing on the tip of his tongue. 

"It's been months, and I know I said I wouldn't push anything - and I won't - but I need to know if this is even something I should be waiting for or..." 

"Or?"

"Or if you're just using this as a way to move on, to -"

Not only do I face him, but I sit up in the bed, turning my entire body towards him so that he can see my anger and disbelief fully. "Are you accusing me of using you?"

"That's not what I meant. I just think that you may be trying to ease back into the dating world, and you may not feel the same way as me because -"

"Because what? Please, keep analyzing me." I turn away from him, letting my feet hit the floor as I reach for the bra I discarded on the carpet hours ago. 

I walk across the room to get the rest of my clothes, biting my tongue as he calls after me "Why are you angry with me? I'm the one that keeps getting shut down and left hanging so that you can go eat wings with Ryker or go help Ryker at work or make dinner with Ryker. Hell, you even spend the night with him but not me." 

"Are you insinuating something, Dash?" I pull on my skirt, not even bothering to zip it as I stomp back to the bed, my eyes ablaze as I stare down at him. In the beginning my friendship with Ryker hadn't bothered him. He saw it for what it was - a friendship. But over the past few weeks, it's like he's jealous of my friendship with Ryker and wants me to choose between the two of them. Now, now it seems that he doesn't believe it's a friendship at all, but that there's something more going on between me and Ryker. 

"I'm not saying that you're cheating or anything." He sits up and runs a hand down his face before tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. 

"I'm not your girlfriend, Dash. But for arguments sake, no I'm not cheating on you. Not with Ryker, not with anyone." I zip up my skirt and go to find my shirt, also discarded on the floor in the corner of the room.

"Trust me, Ryan, I am well aware of the fact that your're not my girlfriend." 

I can feel his eyes on me as I get dressed, waiting for me to fight back or to maybe tell him that he's right. But I don't, I remain silent as I button up my shirt and slide my feet into my heels. Once I'm fully dressed, I turn to him and meet his hard stare. I keep my voice calm even though I am anything but at the moment. "You said that you understood. Yes, it's been months, but in some ways this is all new for me and it's hard to cope with at times. I'm sorry that you're not getting what you want out of this, but I'm not ready to give you a full on relationship - not yet."

He sighs as I move to leave the room, only replying once I'm halfway to the door. "That's not what this was about, Ryan. It's about you and me supposedly building toward something, but you spending all of your time with another guy."

I look back over my shoulder, more than ready to be done with this conversation and out of this apartment. "He's my friend, Dash. If you can't handle that, then there's nothing to build toward." 

I don't give him a chance to reply and he makes no move to get out of bed and stop me from leaving as I close his bedroom door behind me. I go to retrieve my purse from the small table in the foyer, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I do so. 

I don't look like me. I never look like me when I'm here or when we're on a date. I'm always dressed up in designer clothes with a painted on face - I'm the same Ryan that I am when I'm at work. It's not real, it's not me, it's a mask - a game. 

Dash doesn't see through it, the clothes and the make up. Maybe that's part of the problem, the fact that this is the version he wants. This is the version that fits into his rich, lavish, pent house over the park lifestyle. 

Maybe that's why it's so easy to tell myself that it's okay to be doing this with him. If I'm not the real me, it's like playing pretend. It's easier to keep the guilt and the feeling that I'm cheating on Garrett away when it's not Garrett's version of Ryan that is doing these things. 

Maybe Dash is right - maybe I am using him. Not intentionally, but maybe in a way I am. 

Disgusted with the girl looking back at me in the mirror, I grab my purse and leave.