Free To See You by Rachel Blaufeld

so sorry. I can’t leave her waiting.” I pulled out my clutch and started to take out my company card.
    “Hey, it’s on me. I’ll get the bill and take you where you need to go.”
    His left eye twitched the slightest bit, and if he wasn’t such a large and looming presence, I would have thought he was holding back tears. That wasn’t his style, though. He was too proud.
    “You know what? Is it okay if I grab an Uber or a cab? I hate to send you out of your way, and I really have to go.”
    If this wasn’t what I wanted, then why was I running the hell out of there?
    Because this wasn’t me. This guy—the closeness, the intimate conversation—none of it was me. Even if it felt amazing, like stoking a fire on a cold night, I wasn’t meant for this. I had a plan and I was sticking to it. Big city, even bigger dreams, and a huge life were in my future.
    “It’s not out of my way—”
    “It wouldn’t sit well with me. This has been great. I loved the movie. Thanks, Layton.”
    I stood and so did he. We stood there in an uncomfortable silence for a beat as my mind raced, my uncertainty lingering.
    I might be a successful woman but I was acting like a middle school girl, ditching a boy at the arcade. And of course, I ran.
    Because that’s what I do.
    Layton made the first move, leaned in and kissed my cheek. This time, he didn’t linger. It was a chaste brush of his lips, and more than disappointment flooded my veins. Shame, self-loathing, and vile thoughts wound their way through my soul.
    But I had to follow through because this was so messed up.
    “’Bye, Layton. Thank you.”
    I rushed out into the night where a small line of cab drivers waited across the street.

 
    S pread out on my bed, flat on my back, my shirt wrinkled and untucked, I stared at the ceiling. “That was a bust,” I said to no one.
    I closed my eyes tight and let out a deep sigh. Even though I’d done enough rom-coms and dramedy films to know the phone call was bullshit, a small sliver of me wished differently but I knew.
    Was I that gross? I’d even tried to tighten up the last week. Instead of tossing the ball to Harriette on the beach, I actually walked her every morning. I thought I’d cleaned up okay and had actually been hopeful of getting the girl.
    Right, not only a girl. I could do that; I was funny and full of wit. But this was the girl, the one worth chasing, the one worth going all out for.
    And then she’d practically run the hell out of the restaurant, even taking a cab, happy to let some other nobody drive her back to the hotel and to the airport.
    My phone buzzed in my back pocket. For a fleeting moment, I was hopeful once again, but the screen read PETER . No such luck for my renewed hope.
    “What’s up?” I sat up and answered the phone, but when I caught a glance of myself in the mirror, I plopped back down.
    “You done with your fancy gig?”
    I hadn’t mentioned my cyber-affair with Charli at all to my friends. It was less about being embarrassed and more about not wanting to share the few moments of happiness we had. Or I had.
    “Yeah, I’m home.” I kicked off my loafers and heard each one make a low thud on the hardwood floor.
    “A bunch of us are down at Bastion’s. Come on down.”
    Harriette clicked through the room and jumped up on the bed next to me, shoving her face in mine. I guess I wasn’t alone. If golden retrievers count.
    “I’m fucking tired. I don’t know.”
    “Come on, Griff, don’t be a twat-waffle. We’re ordering wings, so get your fat ass down here. Plus, we’re gonna hustle some dudes in pool and we need a big guy.”
    Peter was a stand-up comic, or waiter, depending on the day. He thought he was funny, but I wasn’t so sure.
    “Fine, fine. I got to change and I’ll be around. Don’t get into any bar fights.”
    He disconnected without a word, and I rolled off my bed and headed toward my closet. I peeled off my tux and threw it into a ball in the corner. I’d