Safe Distance Read online

  “God, are you even human? We’re on leave, dude. Take a break. Sleep in past six. Be lazy. Be normal. You know, like me.” He smirks at me with that last comment, his usual idiotic expression crossing his face. I’ve known Chris forever. He’s my best friend. He’s also the biggest smart-ass I’ve ever met.

  “You. Normal. Same sentence. Does not compute, does not compute,” I say in my best robotic voice. He grabs a football off my dresser and chucks it at me. I catch it easily, grinning up at him. “Well, Sarge will be glad to know you’re not completely out of shape. He’s not gonna be happy about that beer gut though.” He flips me off and pulls out the chair behind my desk. Flipping it around, he sits on it backwards and looks at the TV.

  “Dude. You can’t watch this without me. This is our show.”

  “You’ve seen them all. What does it matter if I watch a few without you?”

  “Because. I need to see your reactions. This show gets gnarly. I wanna be here to witness it if you get all queasy.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You do remember we’ve done two tours together, right? Pretty sure we’ve seen things way more gnarly than a bunch of fake-ass zombies.”

  “I sure as hell haven’t seen somebody yanking out another person’s intestines and noshing on them. That’s as fucking gnarly as it gets.”

  I roll my eyes. I start to push play when I remember the way he entered my room. “What the hell are you doing in here, anyway?”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, I was gonna tell you to get your ass ready so you could come with me. But seeing as you’re already ready, I guess you’ve saved me some time.” He stands and heads toward the door. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

  It’s just after ten in the morning. When we’re on leave, Chris never wants to leave the house until at least noon. And that’s pushing it.

  “Where are we going?” I shout as he walks down the hall.

  I hear the spray of the shower start. “Out,” he shouts back before shutting the bathroom door.

  I shake my head. What in the hell is he up to now? I can never keep up with Chris’s half-baked ideas.

  Giving up on the show, I turn off the TV and head to my bathroom. When we moved in, I beat Chris to the master bedroom, so I have my own private bathroom. It’s my favorite thing about this place. After living in the barracks, it’s always nice to come home to some privacy. I make quick use of the facilities and head out to the living room.

  A few minutes later, Chris emerges from the hall bathroom. He dresses quickly and grabs a protein bar from the kitchen. “You ready?”

  I give him a blank stare. I’m not answering that until he tells me where we’re going.

  He sighs. “Fine. We’re going to meet Emma. That girl I told you about the other day. She’s supposed to be meeting a friend for coffee this morning. I wanted to see her, so I volunteered to bring you along so the friend doesn’t feel like a third wheel.”

  I glare at him. He knows I don’t date. And he sure as hell knows I don’t blind date. “No. Not happening,” I say, shaking my head vehemently.

  “C’mon,” he pleads. “It’s not a date. You don’t ever have to see her again. Hell, you don’t even have to talk to her. Emma just didn’t want to bail on her. And she thought it’d be weird if it was the two of us and this chick. So you’re coming along, just as a buffer. Please, man. If I tell her you’re not coming, she won’t want me to come either. And I need to see her. She’s different, ya know?”

  No, I don’t know. But I do know that when Chris gets this way, there is no use arguing with him. He won’t give in until he gets what he wants. I blow out a deep breath. “Fine,” I say tersely. “I’ll go. But I am not taking this girl anywhere so you two can be alone. We get coffee. We come home. Got it?”

  He smiles at me. I’m pretty sure he stopped listening to anything I said after the word fine. Resigned, I follow him out to his truck. This is going to be miserable.

  Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting in the coffee shop next to the local bookstore. Emma showed up five minutes ago, alone, explaining that her friend had something come up and isn’t able to make it. She slides in next to Chris. I’m relieved that I won’t have to try to entertain said friend, but now I’m the third wheel on their little date. Perfect.

  So here I sit, in uncomfortable silence, while the two of them are completely wrapped up in each other. I stare around the coffee shop, trying to look anywhere but at Chris and his date, when a familiar face walks through the door. A bag from the bookstore next door swings from her arm as she walks right past our table.

  Chris must see her too because he does a double take. “Hey. Isn’t that the girl? From the club last night? The one you completely biffed it in front of?” I nod. He laughs and launches into the story of how I landed flat on my back last night, embellishing it, as he does everything, in order to get the most laughs. Emma eats it up.

  As embarrassed as I am about falling on my ass in front of her, anything is preferable to sitting here listening to Chris try to be Casanova. I slide out from the booth and get in line behind Haylee. She doesn’t turn to look at me, so I clear my throat. When she still doesn’t look at me, I do it again, loudly, making it obvious I’m trying to get her attention.

  She turns and gives me an irritated look. When she catches sight of my face, her expression softens. “Oh. Hi,” she says, confusion clear in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

  I hold up my cup. “Coffee. I’m guessing that’s what you’re here for too?”

  “Um, yeah. Guess that was a stupid question.”

  I smile at her. “I take it you got home okay last night?”

  She nods. “Yeah. Thanks again,” she says shyly.

  “No worries. Just glad I could help. I’d hate to think what might’ve happened if I hadn’t been there.”

  She blanches. Before I can ask if she’s okay, her color returns and she smiles. “Glad you were. So, do you live near here?” she asks quickly, changing the subject.

  I don’t blame her for not wanting to talk about last night, so I go with it. “Sort of. About fifteen minutes away, actually. Chris, the guy who was with me last night, was supposed to meet his girlfriend and her friend here this morning. I got dragged along—against my will, I might add. Lucky for me, the friend bailed. Unlucky for me, that means I’m the third wheel now.” I gesture over my shoulder at Chris and Emma. Chris waves when Haylee looks over at them. Both of them are staring at us. Apparently we’re more interesting than whatever they’d been talking about.

  Haylee looks uncomfortable under their watchful eyes. She turns and faces the front of the line again. There’s only one person between her and the counter. Soon she’ll have her coffee and will be leaving the shop. Not wanting to return to Chris and Emma’s rendezvous, I blurt out my next thought. “You wanna take a walk?”

  She looks at me warily. I can tell she’s going to say no, so I rush to change her mind before she can object. “C’mon. You’d be doing me a huge favor. I don’t wanna go back over there.” I jerk my head in Chris’s direction. “Save me. Please.”

  She considers it for a moment before she orders her coffee. After she’s done, she returns her attention to me. “I’ve only got about a half hour. I’ve gotta get back and get some work done.”

  I quickly agree. “Half hour is great. Anything is better than sitting there watching Chris’s attempts at wooing a girl.”

  She laughs. When her coffee is ready, we head toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few,” I toss over at Chris. He gives me a puzzled look, but I choose to ignore it and open the door for Haylee.

  “What’s in the bag?” I ask, gesturing at the sack hanging from her arm as we start down the sidewalk.

  “A book,” she answers shortly.

  “Kinda figured that. What sort of book?”

  “A good book.”

  “How do you know that if you haven’t read it yet?”

  “Because it’s the newest releases by my favorite author. It
’s guaranteed to be excellent.”

  I laugh at her answer. “Guaranteed, huh? Not even a little doubt that this one might not be as good as the last? You know, every author misses the mark once in a while.”

  “Not Colleen Hoover. Every word she writes is pure gold.”

  The finality of her tone tells me the discussion is closed. I laugh again and make a mental note to look up this Colleen Hoover when I get home.

  “So, work on a Saturday? That’s no fun. Especially when you’ve got a brand new book waiting to be read.” I tease.

  She shrugs. “Nope. I’d much rather spend the day reading. But I’m still new so I’m still trying to prove myself. Ridiculous, because I’m better at my job than half the guys there, but nobody takes me seriously yet—besides Sue.”

  “Who’s Sue?”

  “My boss. But it’s her boss who makes all the big decisions on accounts. So until I can impress him, I’m stuck on all the lousy projects.”

  I can hear the frustration in her voice. “So, what do you do?”

  “Marketing. Majored in English because I love to read and write but don’t want to teach. This seemed like the next best option. Marketing firms love English majors.”

  I nod. I can understand that. Well, not the majoring in English part. Who wants to waste four years of their life learning the importance of discerning the difference between there, they’re, and their? But I can understand the appeal of English majors to marketing firms.

  “I take it it’s not everything you ever dreamed of?” I wager.

  She sighs loudly. “Not my dream job, that’s for sure. But I think it could be, if I was able to get the sort of clients I want. Just gotta put in the grunt work until I get there.”

  I nod. I know all about grunt work. After a few steps of silence, she asks, “What do you do?”

  “Army,” I say simply.

  Her eyes widen momentarily, but then she nods. “I can see that. Ever been in combat?”

  I nod. “Two tours. Another one coming up soon.”

  “Wow. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”

  “And you won’t ever have to, if I do my job right.” She smiles at that. This is one topic I’m never uncomfortable talking about. I love my job. To me, there’s nothing more honorable and important than serving your country. It’s one aspect of my life I’m proud of.

  “Well, I thank you for your service.” She gives me a coy smile. I tilt my head, nodding my acceptance of her gratitude. This, however, is one aspect of the job that always catches me off guard. Being thanked for something that comes so naturally to me always seems strange. I never know what to say in return. So I’ve perfected the silent nod.

  We cut through the park and head to the nearby university campus. Haylee spends the next ten minutes giving me a tour of her alma mater. Her face is animated as she points out the different buildings. There’s a buoyancy to her now that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

  I laugh as we pass the English building and she practically vibrates with excitement. “I take it your years here were good ones?”

  She falters momentarily but quickly recovers. “I loved it here,” she says, a broad grin spreading across her face.

  We start to make our way back to the coffee shop. As we walk, she tells me about a few of the projects she’s currently working on for the firm. She’s right, they’re all pretty shitty accounts. Fliers for a pet-grooming store. Mailers for a small used-car lot. Brochures for a run-down motel on the edge of town. When she tells me the type of accounts she could be working if her ignorant boss would just give her a chance, I’m indignant on her behalf.

  “You’ll show him. He’s gonna be sorry when some other firm scoops you up right out from under his wings. You’ll be the next big hot shot, and he’ll be kicking himself for being a sexist asshole.”

  She laughs. “Oh, how I hope you’re right.”

  We reach the coffee shop then, and I see Chris and Emma through the window. They’re still seated in the same booth. Still completely wrapped up each other’s words. Haylee shifts awkwardly as we stand there.

  “Well, I should get going,” she says.

  “Thanks for saving me today. Now I just gotta try to steal Chris’s truck so I can get out of here. Hopefully Emma can bring him home.”

  She nods. “Good luck,” she says with a smile, turning to walk away.

  “Wait,” I call out.

  She stops and looks at me over her shoulder.

  “Can I get your number? I’d like to do this again sometime,” I say, not sure where the words are coming from.

  She stiffens, and I can practically see the walls erecting around her. Her expression becomes guarded and she takes a step back.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Ryan.”

  Knowing that I’ve completely freaked her out, I quickly try to recover the situation. “I don’t mean like that. I’m leaving soon. I’m not looking to get involved with anyone. I just mean as friends. I’d like to get to know you better as a friend.”

  She still looks unsure. “Friends?” she asks cautiously.

  “Yeah, friends. You do have those, right?”

  She laughs curtly. “Not many, actually.”

  “Well, I’d like to be counted among those select few. If you’d like.”

  She bites her lower lip, uncertainty radiating off her. I try to read something from the look in her eyes, but she’s completely closed off. “Okay,” she finally says meekly.

  She hands me her phone and I quickly program my number into it. I press the call button so her number appears on my phone as well.

  “There. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” I say playfully.

  She nods, giving me another slight smile. “I’ll see you later, Ryan.”

  “Bye, Haylee.” I turn and walk into the coffee shop. Now to talk Chris into giving up his keys.

  Later that night I’m sitting on the couch next to Chris and Emma. He was surprisingly agreeable to giving me his keys so he could spend the day with Emma. They both showed up at the house a few hours ago, and now we’re all crammed on the couch watching The Walking Dead.

  Emma squeals as yet another skull is bashed in. Chris pulls her into his side, laughing at her as she buries her face in his shoulder. If this was the reaction he was expecting, it’s a good thing he brought Emma over. No way in hell am I gonna curl up into him and whimper.

  I laugh under my breath at my own joke. Since Emma hasn’t seen any of the show, Chris insisted we start over at the beginning. So not only do I have to put up with the two lovebirds, I don’t even have the benefit of the show to distract me because I’ve already seen this episode. I pull my phone out, deciding playing Candy Crush is better than enduring these two snuggling next to me.

  I see the missed call from Haylee’s phone still displayed on my screen. My thoughts return to our conversation this morning. I think of how reluctant she was to give me her number. I’m the last person in the world who wants a relationship, but even I’m not that reserved. She looked downright sick at the thought of giving it to me.

  I add her number to my contacts and then open my text messages. Finding her name, I click on it and type out:

  ME: Hey. What are you up to tonight?

  A few minutes pass before she responds.

  HAYLEE: Watching a movie with my roommate and her boyfriend.

  ME: Ugh, same here. These two are making me sick.

  HAYLEE: Ditto.

  I laugh. Nice to know I’m not the only one being subjected to the torture.

  ME: Wanna meet up sometime this week? Drinks? Lunch? Coffee again?

  Another few minutes pass.

  HAYLEE: I’m really busy this week. Not sure if I’ll have time.

  ME: You have to eat sometime, right? And you can’t be working ALL the time.

  I know she’s trying to make excuses. For some reason, the thought of a friendship with me scares her. It just makes me that much more determined to find out why.
>
  Ten minutes go by without a response. Worried that she’s not going to respond at all, I type out another message.

  ME: Drinks Friday night? Bring your friend and her boyfriend. I’ll bring Chris. Just a bunch of friends hanging out. Promise.

  I add one of those smiley faces at the end. Girls like those, right?

  She must, because a few minutes later I get another text.

  HAYLEE: When and where?

  Mental high five. Score one for Porter.

  ME: Gordon’s. Over on 36th. 7:00 p.m.?

  HAYLEE: I know it. We’ll be there.

  I tuck my phone back in my pocket. I’ve been so absorbed in my conversation with Haylee that I didn’t even notice Chris and Emma have started making out on the couch next to me. And they’ve clearly forgotten my presence. I momentarily consider saying something to embarrass them but decide against it. Instead, I flick off the TV and head to my bedroom. Chris owes me one.

  “Well, look who showed up! Earl! Get your ass out here and see who decided to grace us with their presence.”

  Earl steps out from the back, wiping his hands on a cloth. “What? I’m washing the fucking dishes, you old—” He trails off as he sees Amanda and me standing behind the bar. We’re the only ones in here besides these two. He flips the cloth over his shoulder and a grin spreads across his face. “Whoop! Look who we have here. Where the hell you been, girls? Hasn’t been the same around here without you. You left me here with nobody but this stodgy old bastard to keep me company.” He jerks his head at Gordon, throwing us a sly smile.

  Earl isn’t any younger than Gordon, but don’t tell him that. Both men are in their mid to late fifties—never ask them their ages either, it doesn’t end well—with thinning hair and expanding bellies. Gordon owns the place, but Earl’s here just as much as he is. He’s not even on the payroll. He helps Gordon out around the bar, and in return, Gordon lets him drink for free. The two have known each other forever. And though they act like they hate each other all the time, I know for a fact that they’d both be lost without each other.