Business Casual (Lovelight, #4)

by B.K. Borison

I’m comfortable in my solitude. I like the quiet. I like eating dinner by myself and picking what to watch on TV. I like starfishing in the middle of my bed and setting my thermostat to the perfect temperature. I like rolling myself like an overstuffed burrito in all my blankets. I like having my space to myself, and I like not having to compromise. I don’t need to share my every day with someone to suddenly feel fulfilled.

I nudge us farther into the trees until shadows are clinging to our ankles. “Are you going to find someone else?” I ask again. She loosens her hold on me but stays in my grip. “For what? A drink?” Now I’m the exasperated one. “To go home with you.” “Ah.” Understanding lights her eyes and her lips twist to the side. “Maybe—” “Don’t.” I cut her off.

I’m used to being a good time. A fun deviation from normal patterns and behaviors. But with Nova, I want to be a choice. Not a whim. Not a regret.

“You’re going to ask me again.” “Oh yeah?” I nod. “Yeah. I can be patient.” I let my hand drop to my side. “You don’t need to ask me tonight. You can think on it.” A disbelieving laugh bursts out of her. “Oh, thank you very much.”

She blows out a noisy breath. “Yes, Charlie. I will go on this very nice vacation with my husband.” “Ah.” Luka grins behind her. “I love that word.” “What? Vacation?” “No.” His smile melts into something satisfied. “Husband.”

It’s when they feel the need to walk on eggshells that it bothers me the most. It’s like they’re all waiting for me to fall apart at my perpetually single lifestyle when the truth is…I don’t want what they have. I don’t want to be held to another person’s expectations and fall short. I don’t want to build something with someone only to have it sour with time. Casual suits me best, and while I’m certainly no stranger to wanting things I don’t deserve and cannot have, a relationship isn’t something I yearn for.

I push his hand away. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say again. “Why not?” “Because I don’t want—” I huff out a breath. “I don’t want to be a joke.” It comes out more vulnerable than I’d like, a wobble at the edges that frustrates me.

“Because if that’s something you want, that’s what I need to hear from you. I’m not laughing at you. I’m not making fun of you. I need you to be sure. I need to know that it’s me you want and not a random roll in the sheets.”

“I thought you were making some sort of commentary on my love life, not extending an invitation. I am—honestly, Nova. Of course I’m interested. Very enthusiastic, actually. Flags, confetti. Exclamation point.”

My dad and I have never had a good relationship. My entire life, I’ve been running to reach his insurmountable standards. I’ve always thought if I could just work a little harder, be a little smarter, he might notice. He might be proud. But every time I jump, he cuts me at the knees.

It isn’t until I elbow my way inside and flick on the lights that I realize he’s the first person to see the finished product. The tattoo studio of my dreams. The first one that is wholly mine and mine alone. Beckett has been nagging me for ages, but it hasn’t felt ready yet.

I’m stretched thin enough. I cannot make myself available for another human being. Relationships require work, time, and emotional availability. I am equipped for exactly none of those things at this point in my life.

“Maybe you should consider a career change.” “But then what would I do with all of my suits?” I grin and take the salad bowl Evie offers me. “Nah, this is temporary. I’m just giving Stella the break she deserves.” “And what do you deserve?”

I’m a people pleaser, through and through, and it doesn’t matter that the person I’m trying to please is an asshole.

I’ve always been quick to empty everything in my head, but I think Nova holds on to too much. She keeps her thoughts and her insecurities and worries close, letting them buzz around her brain.

He dropped out of school and gave up on his dreams so I could have mine. I want him to walk in and feel like all of that was worth it. And I don’t feel ready yet. There’s some stuff I still want to do before he sees it.” She peeks up at me and tucks her knees tight to her chest. “Is that dumb?” “It’s not dumb.” I rest my hand against her ankle and trace the jut of the delicate bone there with my thumb. “But, Nova, you don’t need to be perfect.”

Being here makes me feel like…like the edges of myself that are too sharp everywhere else can be sanded down into something tolerable.

She leans back against the arm of the couch and looks at me. Eyes lowered, comfortable in the silence that stretches between us. It’s an honor to have this—this yawning quiet. This warm, settled feeling.

Nova’s face tips up, open and willing and—fuck—trusting. She looks like she wants me to kiss her. I want to kiss her. But I’m always seeing the things I want to see, and I can’t trust that I’m what she wants right now.

“I’ll see you this week?” she calls. I lean against the door. I feel like I need the support. “For what?”

I am cracked wide open, want spilling out and filling me to the brim. I don’t understand how this happened. I don’t have cravings and I don’t do distractions. I don’t go back for seconds. But I think Charlie might be the exception to that rule.

He’s still holding strong to his infuriating level of careful. Careful to keep a polite amount of space between us. Careful to only speak when spoken to. Careful, careful, careful. He doesn’t knock into my shoulder or tease me about his theoretical tattoos after our third stop. He keeps his head down with both hands gripped tight to some invisible boundary we never discussed.

Why do I tuck myself in these carefully constrained boxes? Why do I put…all of this pressure on myself to be perfect in every single way? Why do I feel like if I want too many things, I’m going to lose all of it?

It’s the best sort of indulgence to touch him like this after convincing myself I shouldn’t. Like taking a bite of apple pie after committing to strictly salads.

I tried to limit myself, and all I managed to do was frustrate the both of us. So now I’m indulging. Over and over again. For as long as I’m here.

My smile is half hidden behind a blanket that has tiny cats all over it. It’s nice to be taken care of.

“You don’t deserve that,” I tell him quietly, the words feeling clumsy on my tongue. I’m not good at comforting people, but I wish I was. I wish I could make the look on his face disappear.

“I’m just pretending.” “Pretending what?” “Everything.” He swallows. “That I’m not a selfish person.” I snort and roll my eyes. “I don’t believe you.” Charlie doesn’t laugh. “You don’t have to believe it. It’s the truth. You think I came to Inglewild and volunteered to watch over Lovelight out of the goodness of my heart, but that’s not true. I’m doing it for me. Because I wanted an excuse to be here.” I blink at him. “Wanting something doesn’t make you selfish, Charlie.” “What about taking it?”

I’ve got a feeling the uncertainty is going to be a work in progress. And that’s okay. For the first time in a long time, it feels like maybe it’s okay that I’m a work in progress. Just like my studio. Just like the little plants breaking through the soil and reaching for the sunlight. I’m trying, and maybe trying is enough.

“All this polite talk and I might start to think you like me.” She rolls her eyes, a smile ticking up the corner of her mouth. With her messy hair and that ridiculous robe, it’s lacking its usual heat. “I do like you,” she says simply. Warmth ping-pongs around in my chest. A bright, ferocious burst of it. It’s a stupid reaction. We’ve been sleeping together for weeks. I should hope she likes me, at least a little. But here, like this, with the sunset painting her hair lavender and her socked feet tucked between mine, it feels more like a shared secret.

No matter how much of a douche my dad is, I still struggle with the idea of disappointing someone. Him, in particular. But it’s difficult to care as much about it when I’m here.

I wish we were in the sort of relationship where I could kiss her in front of all these people and not think twice about it. I’m so fucking proud of her and the only way I can show it is by standing a perfectly polite two feet away from her, smiling like an idiot.

They haven’t stopped talking since he sat down, and I can’t stop sneaking looks. They look good together. Well suited. That’s probably the kind of guy she usually goes for. I bet he’s absolute shit at doing his taxes.

My smile tugs wider, something that always seems to happen when I’m talking to Charlie. I used to hate it but I think I love it now. I think I crave it.

I see all of your colors. The bright ones and the dark ones too. I see how you’re always tilting toward the sun. Forget-me-nots were always my favorite, and—well. You’re kind of my favorite too.”

“I’ve never been anyone’s favorite,” he whispers. “Well,” I say, feeling defensive. “You’re mine.”

“Nova,” he whispers, somewhere against my mouth. “I don’t think my feelings are business casual.” I sigh into him. I hold on to him wherever I can reach. “I don’t think mine are either.”

It feels like we’re in a bubble—in this house, in Inglewild, in the terms of the relationship we set for ourselves—and I’m afraid of what might happen when we step outside of it.

I didn’t want a relationship because I was afraid of giving a part of myself to another person when it felt so important that I keep them all for myself. I like who I am and I like my independence. But I didn’t lose anything to Charlie. It just feels like all the good things in my life got better. Amplified.

“I owe you nothing. The only thing you’ve given me worth a damn is my sister, and if you had it your way, I never would have known about her. But I’m grateful you were a deadbeat. I’m grateful you wanted nothing to do with her. She got to escape you, and she shines so bright because of it.”

“I’ve always wanted to be independent. I thought being strong meant I had to be alone, that I could only have one thing at a time, but then I fell for you without even trying and…I think you might be my very best friend, Charlie.

“I’ve taught myself how to be okay with fragments of feeling, but I don’t want that with you. I want more than what you’ve given me. I want to give you more of me too. I love you, Nova girl. I tried my very best not to, but you wiggled your way right in there with no respect for my opinion on the matter.”