I smiled. “Maybe!”

“You really know how to make my day. Do you know that?” he asked. “I was not in the best of moods right before you called. Now I’m having a hard time remembering why I was in a bad mood at all.”

“I’m glad. You want to talk about it?” I asked.

“Ah, I’m just a little stressed. It’s been a long day. I’d like to leave here and relax on your couch but I can’t. Especially since the weather is pretty decent outside, we can get some additional night shots done. And I really just want to wash this crap off my face too!” he complained.

“What crap?”

“I have some stuff on to make it look like I have a cut lip. It itches. I really want to scratch it off.”

“I’d like to see that. Were you supposed to be in a fight or something?” I asked. I was trying to imagine what he looked like.

“Do you want me to send you a picture? I can take one if you’re that curious.”

“Heck yeah! Is it just supposed to look like a cut or do you look like that idiot who didn’t run away from the lit dynamite?”

“No!” He laughed. “I was in a fist fight. You should see the other guy.”

“Did you pummel him?” I was trying to picture Ryan fighting with someone.

“Let’s just say two of them won’t be bothering me anymore.”

“That sounds like a movie line.” I chuckled.

“It is,” he said amusingly. “Can you name the movie it’s from?”

I thought about his statement for a moment. He even repeated the line for me a second time and gave me another hint.

“True Lies!” I answered enthusiastically, catching the inflection in his voice. “Bill Paxton says that to Jami Lee Curtis when he takes credit for killing those guys in the mall bathroom.”

“I can’t believe you got that one!” He sounded proud. “So why is it that you know other movies by heart but you haven’t seen any of my movies yet?”

I was surprised he even asked me that question. “How will you ever know if I like Charles or just some guy named Ryan? Isn’t it better this way?”

“Hah. You’re right. From now on you are hereby banned from seeing any of my movies.”

I knew he was kidding, but at the same time visions of me not being invited to any premiers flashed through my mind. I didn’t want the fame or the red carpet; I just wanted to be by his side, holding his hand, loving him, and being proud of his accomplishments – whatever they might be.

Once again I was setting my hopes up for nothing, longing for a relationship that could never be. His inevitable departure date was still looming.

“Listen, Ryan, I have to go. Marie is all by herself behind the bar and we’re kind of busy. It was nice talking to you.” I had the sudden urge to flee.

“Okay. Um, I guess I’ll talk to you later then.”

I don’t think I even said goodbye. I shoved my phone into the front pocket of my jeans and hurried back behind the bar. The sooner I could get distracted the better. I kept slipping up over and over again, letting my guard down with him and allowing myself to swim in dangerous waters.

A few minutes passed and my cell phone buzzed again. I opened the picture Ryan sent; he had a funny expression on his face while pointing to his fake cut lip. I couldn’t help but laugh.

I tried to convince myself that I wouldn’t get hurt if I kept this thing with him strictly platonic, but to do so I’d have to make sure that I didn’t let him touch me anymore. No more holding hands, or running my fingers through his soft hair, staring into his eyes. Hugging… that was dangerous too.

Anything that involved physical contact must be off-limits. I even tried to force myself to have a dream where we were only friends, playing a game of softball with us on the Mitchell’s Pub team, but even my subconscious betrayed me.

The following day I tried to banish the lingering memories of the hot and steamy dream I did have about him, where I tore the baseball uniform off his body… “Hey baby!” Marie greeted me as she started her shift Thursday night.

I dumped a new bucket of ice in the bin, thinking I should dump an entire bucket down my shirt too. “Hey. I have some applicants coming in today. I’d like you to interview them too, since we both have to get along with whomever I hire.”

“Sure. No problem,” she said as she tucked her bar rag in her back pocket. “Did you hear from Mr. Wonderful?”

I smiled. “He called me three times today.”