June 15

You Can’t Fly These Wings

Placing a smile at the perfect event,
Gracing your skin with the side of my hand.
If I ever leave I could learn to miss you
But “Sentimental Boy” is my nom de plume

Ryan sat on the edge of his bed, the mirror covered with a throw, and stared at the silver ring he was twisting around his finger.  He was wearing nothing but purple boxer briefs and the bed was a mess, giving evidence of a restless night.  Ryan was having trouble sleeping because he couldn’t stop thinking about the  night he’d spent with Sangria and Ethan or Tristan’s brief visit.  Despite the most valiant of efforts, his thoughts kept returning to the conversation about Nikki.  “Straight to the point, but that particular point is moot,” he’d said.  And Sang had said “maybe”.  What the hell did “maybe” mean?  When asked, Sang said that she was a romantic by way of explanation.  But it wasn’t really an explanation, was it?  Considering that romantics generally avoided any ex boyfriends or former lovers that might prove to be a bump in the road of a relatively new relationship, particularly when said relationship involved their sibling, the “romantic” explanation seemed more like an evasive maneuver.  Ryan had said he was a romantic, too, and while it was true that he had certain romantic ideas, dreams and fantasies, he didn’t really carry them over well into the real world.  Socializing was difficult as it was.  Romantic entanglements even more so.  And women generally seemed to have higher expectations from him based on his looks than they did the average man.

Ryan thought back to that first night with Nikki in the morgue.  As good as the experience had been, he’d often kicked himself in the ass for not having more self control and going about it a little less… barbarically.  It wasn’t that he regretted being with her.  He hadn’t.  But he regretted starting out that way and the way it essentially ruined any possibility that they could have a real relationship.  Ryan shook his head thinking about the conversation he’d had with Nikki regarding her assistant.  Not only did she have a boyfriend, but she’d essentially encouraged him to pursue her assistant.  If that didn’t prove that particular ship had sailed, nothing did.  Ryan’s thoughts turned to Hayden.  She was an attractive woman, but he knew they weren’t on the same level.  She was a little too rough for him.  He didn’t regret evading *her*, though he did hope she wouldn’t hold it against him.  He had no doubts that Lia was going to be very good at her job, however.  He smiled thinking about how she’d drawn him out without really doing anything.  He’d told her he was impressed, and he had been.  Especially since she pulled it off in the middle of a large group.

Ryan’s thoughts turned inevitably back to Nikki again and the conversation concerning her assistant.  He never could remember that girl’s name, but he’d never really tried either.  He’d been too focused on Nikki and their conversations.  She was cute, though.  Maybe he really *should* make more of an effort there.  On the other hand, he wondered if that would be awkward considering his history with Nikki.  Ryan shook his head, remembering his conversation with Tristan.  Tristan had asked him why they ended because Nikki hadn’t wanted to talk about it.  Considering how they started out and that she wasn’t really *that* kind of girl, he wasn’t really surprised.  Nikki wasn’t a slut.  If she were, it would be all over town, but in all the discussions he’d ever heard about which girls were the easy ones, Nikki’s name had never once come up.  If she had been a slut, Ryan wouldn’t have been interested.  He had higher standards than that.  Even Saige hadn’t been a slut when they were together in high school.  But she’d changed.  Nikki never had.  All things considered, Nikki not wanting to talk to Tristan about them probably meant she was ashamed of their history.  Not that he could blame her.  Falling onto the slab in the morgue with the town mortician wasn’t exactly something to be proud of.

Ryan shook his head and looked at the clock.  He had hours to go and no short way to pass them.  Sighing, he laid back down and tried the whole sleeping thing again.

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Posted June 15, 2012 by The Universe in category "Fiction", "Solitude