Chapter Text
There’s a pain behind Ricky’s eyes that throbs in time with the rapid beating of his heart. It perfectly complements the barrage of noise surrounding him. No one told Ricky just how loud moving would be. From the yelling of the movers to the crashing of pots and pans as they make their way into cupboards to the thudding of his heart as he runs up and down the stairs over and over again. It’s inconceivable, almost, how terrible this whole ordeal was.
He hears the toppling of something that sounds expensive along with the low curses of the moving company as they rush to correct their mistake before Ricky makes his appearance in the room. When he does, he finds several of his instruments scattered across the ground, littered there like a child’s forgotten toys.
“If we could maybe be a little more careful, guys, that would be great,” Ricky says, beyond exasperated. He presses the heel of his hand to the center of his forehead in a futile attempt to make the pounding in his head abate.
“Man, we’re trying but they have a lady moving in next door and it’s making everything two times harder,” one of the movers huffs as he wipes sweat from his brow before moving the rest of Ricky’s things at the same hurried pace. Ricky swears under his breath and decides to let the chaos take him. It’s useless to try and swim against the tide, he isn’t strong enough.
If only Nini were here, then this would be easier. She would let him run his hands through the silk of her hair. She would smile and this place, with its stark white walls and creaky floors, would start feeling like home.
But she isn’t here. And she is perfectly content with the shape their lives were taking: distinct and separate from one another. It isn’t quite her fault, not fully at least. Her job is demanding, and out of the two of them, Nini was the breadwinner. So, Ricky supposes he has no room for the loneliness that is attempting to reside in the space that’s reserved for Nini.
A knock at the door startles him out of his reverie, and when he looks up he’s stunned. The woman that stands there is gorgeous. Golden brown braids cascade down the sides of her waist. She’s clad in a pair of jeans with a simple shirt, but she’s still blinding, almost, in her radiance. She wears a smile but her eyebrows are furrowed. Ricky can’t gather up the courage to say anything in her presence just yet.
Her smile dims before she asks, “Are you okay?”
It’s a bizarre thing to ask. Ricky doesn’t understand why she’s asking that, and more importantly, he has absolutely no idea who she is. He answers her anyway. Her beauty is a siren song of sorts, “Yeah, I— I’m okay. Why?”
She snorts a little, “Okay people don’t usually sit on the floor curled in a ball with the door wide open.”
“That’s just because they haven’t tried it yet,” Ricky says from his ball. He hadn’t realized that he had turned to the fetal position for comfort, but he doesn’t mind it. He minds it even less when the woman crosses over from the door frame to where he sits in the living room. Ricky distantly worries that she’s going to kill him. He welcomes that outcome with open arms.
She sinks to the floor next to him, and the warmth that emanates from her body makes Ricky shiver at the contrast between her and the cold room around them. She makes her body as small as possible, and it’s strange watching this woman who seemed larger than life shrink down to his size.
She finally speaks up after a moment, “Ah, you’re right. This is pretty comfortable.”
“There’s a reason we take this position in the womb…” he trails off and raises his eyebrows in a silent question for her name.
“Gina. Gina Porter,” she says as she sticks out her hand for him to shake. He clasps her hand, and for a second, he thinks about holding it for longer than necessary. He shakes his head slightly to rid himself of the thought.
“Well Gina Porter, are you planning on murdering me anytime soon?”
“Oh no, I was planning to bide my time. So you have a couple of weeks at least.”
“That’s really kind of you, Gina. I’m Ricky Bowen, by the way. It’s good to know your victim’s name.”
“Well, Ricky, if I’m being honest, I was really only being neighborly. Making sure you weren’t on the brink of a breakdown.”
“Let’s not rule that option out quite yet.”
She laughs, bright and unfiltered. The sound bounces around in his brain and forces a smile to slowly spread across his face.
“Do you at least have anyone that can check on you?” Gina’s voice is laced with far too much concern for a person she’s never met before. Ricky’s smile only continues to grow at the thought.
“Um, yes, yes I do. My girlfriend will be here soon, I think.”
“You think?”
The question, brief as it is, rattles Ricky. He has no idea when Nini gets back, not really. Her hours are constantly shrouded in an air of mystery. Purposefully so. Ricky sighs before answering, “She’s always working late, but I meant it when I said I’m okay.”
She looks at him. Her brown eyes are wide and pretty as she attempts to gauge whether he’s telling the truth. He is. He’s okay.
He can’t be anything other than okay.
“Well, I guess this is as far as my neighborly duties extend,” She stands up and makes her way back to the door, taking all of the color in the apartment with her, “See you around, Ricky.”
“See you,” Ricky says with a small wave. He wonders how true it is. He pushes away the hope that it is. Gina closes the door behind her when she leaves, and it’s obvious what she’s saying.
Just because I’m not a murderer doesn’t mean no one is, stay safe. He smiles and begins to assess the damage the movers caused to their stuff. It’s all incredibly tedious, checking for dents and knicks in their sparse pieces of furniture. He can’t even pretend to care, so when Ricky hears another knock at the door he all but jumps to go answer it.
When he gets there the person standing there is a very blond and very cheery older woman. The smile on her face borders on manic and she holds what Ricky assumes is the world’s most unappealing casserole in her hands.
“Hello, sweetheart!” the woman begins. Ricky’s headache returns tenfold, “My name is Miss Jenn, and I wanted to welcome you to this building.”
This apartment building could win awards for having the friendliest, most offputting neighbors ever. He gives this Miss Jenn a closed mouth smile, “Hi, I’m Ricky. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Oh, you’re so polite! Me and a couple of other residents have dinner on Sundays. I wanted to invite you and that other new resident, I think you may have met her: tall and giving Meghan Markle a run for her money?”
Ricky’s face scrunches up at the description and as he looks at this woman’s face he cannot fathom ever eating dinner with her, but maybe the trade off of seeing Gina again would make it worth it.
He needs a friend. Someone to ward off the ever building sense of dread that accompanies the loneliness. It’s risky though, Ricky can sense that already. He couldn’t tell whether he should stay away or sidle closer to her. He sighs and focuses back on what was in front of him, “Yeah, I met her earlier today, actually. Anyway, thank you so much for stopping by, I’m sure I will enjoy this… delicious looking casserole…”
“No problem, dear. But you absolutely must come to dinner. It fosters community.”
Ricky wonders if her cheeks hurt from the smile she has plastered on her face, “Sure, I’ll let my girlfriend know and we will try to be there.”
“Wonderful, see you Sunday!”
Somehow, Ricky knows it’s futile to try and correct her. He just smiles and closes the door the moment she turns her back. All he can do he sigh and go back to the monotony of moving.
Nini’s not home. Big surprise. Ricky can’t muster up much energy to care very much, but she promised that she would come to this dinner. They’d laughed about it briefly during one of the rare times Nini got home before he was asleep, agreeing to go if only to see it crash and burn.
Ricky sighs as he picks up the phone to call his girlfriend; he halfway expects Nini not to pick up, her phone constantly on do no disturb, so when her voice rings clear through the receiver it takes a moment for Ricky to process her voice.
“Hello? Ricky, what’s wrong?” Nini asks. Her voice sounds far away as if the moment she answered the phone she put him on speaker and moved away. It’s horribly apt.
“Nothing, nothing, don’t worry. I was just wondering when, you know, you’d be home.”
“Uh. You know how my hours are, Ricky, I don’t know when I’ll be home,” her voice is tense despite how far away she sounds. She’s annoyed. Bothered by the fact that Ricky dared to want her around. He sighs, deep and burdened.
“You forgot didn’t you,” Ricky’s voice comes out flat, devoid of any emotion at all. He can almost hear the cogs in Nini’s head turns as she mulls over their brief conversations throughout the week. Ricky’s patience runs out before she can remember, “Dinner, Nini.”
“Shit, Ricky, I’m so sorry!” she says, her voice laced with remorse, and just like that Ricky can’t be mad at her anymore. He rubs a hand on his face, feels the stubble growing there, and sighs once more.
“It’s fine. I wasn’t really excited to go anyway,” Ricky says, it’s not really a lie. More of a half-truth, if anything. It’s complicated. The reasons he wanted to go at war in his mind. The vast majority felt like it would be nice to be there with Nini, presenting a united front. But there was a small part of his mind that hadn’t stopped thinking about Gina. These two thoughts felt incompatible to him. So he had tried to simply ignore both.
“No, you should still go. No point in skipping out on free food. I’ll be back at the apartment later, ‘kay?”
“I’ll see you when you get home. Love you,” Ricky says into the line. And he does. Loving Nini is all he’s ever known.
Nini clears her throat before she chokes out, “I…I love you too, bye.”
The click of the phone hanging up feels like a slap to the face. And for a moment, all he can do is sit there and stare at the phone, willing it to ring and praying that it would be Nini on the other side, ready to abandon her work for him. It’s an impossible wish.
He begins to get ready despite the heaviness in his limbs. A hoodie calls out to him, simply begging to be put on, but he’s been chewed out enough times by Kourtney and her endless knowledge of fashion. With the image of Kourtney in his mind, Ricky’s struck with the idea to invite her to the dinner in Nini’s absence. It’s not his worst idea.
The phone rings twice before Kourtney is on the phone, harried, “Hello, Ricky? Is Nini okay?”
Ricky’s eyebrows furrow. What is with everyone and thinking something’s wrong when he calls them, “What? Nini’s fine, Kourt.”
“Okay, well that’s what happens when you never call me. Got me worried for nothing.”
Ricky smiles a bit at the scolding. He can always count on Kourt to pull him out from whatever hole he was sinking into, even if that wasn’t her intent, “I’m sorry, Kourt. I wanted to invite you to dinner with my neighbors.”
Silence crackles over the phone before he hears Kourtney’s small sigh, “Nini canceled?” Her voice is soft but loud in the uncomfortable silence between them.
Ricky deflects, “Or maybe I want to hang out with one of my oldest and closest friends.”
“Tch, yeah right, Ricky. You love me but not that much.”
“Now that’s just untrue, but yes, maybe Nini canceled. I really do miss you, though.”
“Mhmm okay…So why would I want to eat food made by a white woman? Quickly.”
“You can pick out my outfit,” he knows he’s got her then. Kourtney cannot pass up the opportunity to dress him up like her very own life-sized Ken doll.
“Damn. You’ve got yourself a deal, Bowen. I’ll be there in an hour. I better not get there and you’re dressed or you will be in deep shit, you hear me?”
“Loud and clear. Bye Kourt.”
Time passes slowly once he’s off the phone with Kourtney, his mind somehow blank and racing all at once. It’s strange sitting here, knowing that his girlfriend was happier somewhere else without him. It hurts but in the hollowest of ways; it’s a dull, almost inconsequential ache. But it hurts nonetheless.
He closes his eyes and waits for the feeling to pass. The only thing he can really do is wait out the storm. It’s not long before he hears three sharp knocks and is looking down at the face of his best friend.
“How you make everything unfashionable is actually a skill, Ricky,” Kourtney says in lieu of a hello.
“Hello Kourtney, my best friend Kourtney, how have you been?” Ricky says as he moves to the side to let her in.
“Worse, now that I’ve seen your outfit.”
“You are literally so mean to me and I am so nice to you.”
“May I remind you that I’m about to suffer through what I’m sure is going to be some recreation of Get Out because I love you?”
“Aw Kourt, you love me?” Ricky says and bats his eyelashes at her. By now, they’ve reached Ricky and Nini’s closet. There are holes where Nini’s stuff is supposed to be, most of her belongings fitting neatly into the suitcase she likes to live out of. Ricky can never get her to unpack.
Kourtney’s face passes through several stages of grief as she surveys his closet, “Don’t make me regret saying that,” she pulls out a shirt he doesn’t particularly remember buying as she says this. It’s nice, not quite what he’d choose, but he supposes that is Kourtney’s objective.
“I don’t think I’ve ever worn this,” Ricky says while he inspects the shirt.
“I gave that to you for your birthday,” Kourtney says, without stopping her search through his closet. Ricky’s body feels like it shrinks in on itself and he has an apology at the ready when Kourtney turns to him with a smile, “I’m kidding. I’ve never seen that shirt in my life.”
“You are so not funny.”
“Just put these clothes on so we can go,” Kourtney says before she’s walking out of his bedroom. He smiles at the outfit she picked out; casual and understated but not so much that it seems like he doesn’t want to make a good impression.
When he walks out of the room, he gives Kourtney a small spin to show off her creation. She lets out a low whistle and laughs before getting up, “See, this is an outfit.”
“Thanks, Kourt,” Ricky says. He doesn’t just mean for the outfit, and by Kourtney’s soft smile and the way she hooks her elbow with his, Ricky knows she understands.
“Don’t mention it. Now, let’s go to this dinner.”
It’s a short walk, uninterrupted by words. But the things unspoken linger in the air, all about Nini and her aptitude for not being around Ricky. It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when Ricky and Nini were RickyandNini, inseparable and so in love. He loves her still, and sometimes he can see a glimmer in her eyes that tells him she still loves him too, but mostly, he doesn’t see her at all.
Ricky doesn’t even knock on the door before he’s once again faced with Miss Jenn’s cheshire cat smile. It’s only mildly horrifying. He gives her a weak smile in return, “Hello, Miss Jenn, how have you been?”
“Ricky! How come you haven’t introduced me to this pretty lady? My name’s Miss Jenn, and you must be Ricky’s girlfriend, right?” Miss Jenn asks.
Immediately, Kourtney’s laughter rings through the air. Ricky thinks that he should feel insulted but he’s too preoccupied with Gina’s eyes peeking over Miss Jenn’s shoulder. Her lips are upturned in a small smirk, amused by how funny it apparently is to be mistaken for dating him. But seeing her smile has Ricky fighting one of his own.
Kourtney finally quiets and says, “Absolutely not, my name’s Kourtney. I’m Ricky and Nini’s best friend.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, honey. Come in! Gina’s already here,” at her prompting Gina raises her hand in a small wave. Next to her sits a man wearing a leather jacket and a scowl. He only spares a smile when he meets Kourtney’s eyes. Kourtney gives a small smile and a brief wave of her fingers in return.
Interesting. He thinks he may be able to get back at Kourtney for her laughter far sooner than he thought.
For a moment, everyone just stares at each other, unsure of whether speaking will make it more or less awkward. Ricky takes the fall and talks first, “Hello not-murderer Gina, break into anyone else’s apartment lately?”
Gina’s mouth curls up further, her slight smirk blooming into a wide grin. The man next to her looks at her incredulously before remarking, “You broke into this guy’s apartment? I’m kind of impressed.”
Gina keeps her eyes on Ricky while she speaks, despite her words not being toward him at all, “I didn’t break into his apartment, Jet, his door was open. But no, no more alleged break-ins, so I guess you, Ricky, are special.”
Ricky can feel Kourtney’s eyes boring into the side of his head. His ears burn red and, for a second, he thinks it may be best to turn around, Kourtney in tow, and hightail out of here. But Gina’s eyes pin him to the spot; he couldn’t leave even if he really wanted to, her gravity pulling him into her orbit effortlessly.
It’s then that alarm bells begin to sound off in Ricky’s head; they’re melodic and sweet, in a way. He slides into the chair opposite Gina and throws a smile her way. All while avoiding Kourtney’s eyes. He has no explanation to offer her, nothing to say in response to the way his eyes stay on Gina. He doesn’t understand it either. One conversation really isn’t enough to justify the way his pulse flutters.
His eyes move to Gina’s plus one and he holds out a hand for him to shake. He frowns at Ricky’s hand as if it’s done something offensive to him. He keeps it out despite the overwhelming urge to stick his hand back in his pocket and never talk to this ball of sunshine again, “Hi, I’m Ricky. And this is Kourtney”
“Jet, and you can put your hand down, man,” Gina bumps him with her shoulder, a stern look marred by her pretty smile, “What? I don’t know where he’s been.”
“Why do I take you anywhere?” Gina asks, her tone totally fond. Ricky feels more uncomfortable by the second. Coming here was a mistake of epic proportions.
“Who else would you take?”
“Maddox.”
“Good luck prying her away from Ashlyn.”
Gina hums, not answering one way or another. Ricky guesses she doesn’t want to admit defeat. A small smile pulls at his lips because of it. The room is beginning to fill, silence replaced with idle chatter; it does nothing to distract him from cataloging the details of Gina’s face.
Distantly, he notices Jet turn his attention to Kourtney, eyes lighting up at the way she smiles at him, but it’s hard for Ricky to focus on anything but Gina’s eyes shifting back to him. Her hair’s different from last time, braids traded in for a fro that, when the light hits it just right, looks a bit like a halo. He’s not quite used to her beauty; his eyes flit across her face, never settling on one part of her for fear of staring at her in something akin to awe.
“Hey,” she says just as his eyes land on her lips. He tears his eyes from her lips, cheeks burning red at the thought of being caught.
“Hi,” his voice cracks at the end and Ricky has never wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole more. He clears his throat and continues despite the fact that his face is surely firetruck red, “how have you been?”
Her amused expression shifts a little. Ricky’s entranced by the subtlety of it, and he feels desperate, almost, to figure out the minutia of the woman who sits in front of him, “I kind of hate small talk.”
Ricky wonders if he’ll ever stop being shocked at the things Gina says. If the novelty of her bluntness will ever wear off. It’s endearing, and Ricky is fighting down yet another smile. He can’t remember the last time he wore a smile and it didn’t feel like it was two sizes too small, “Really? How come?”
“It’s just boring. Don’t you think?” Gina asks. He thinks it’d be impossible to disagree with her. The fading sun begins to play funny tricks on his mind; her skin almost seems to glow as she looks at him, the edges of her hair golden as the sun shines through the strands. She is by far the brightest thing in the room. She’s smiling at him, but it feels dangerous—a poison of the sweetest variety. He wouldn’t even know he was dying until he was long gone. He swallows and his eyes stray away from her, focusing on the clusters of people forming, noting the way Jet has migrated to the other side of the table, mere inches away from Kourtney.
His eyes return to Gina before he answers, “So if small talk is boring, what would you like to talk about?”
She presses a finger to her mouth in faux thought, what she wants to talk about very obviously already on her mind, “Like what are you doing here, Ricky Bowen?”
Ricky’s eyes widen; he hesitates a little. What is he doing here? His mind goes to Nini despite the lack of her presence. Maybe he should have just stayed home when she told him she couldn’t make it. Maybe he’s trying to prove something. That he needs her just as little as she needs him. Not that he thinks she particularly cares, and she would probably encourage them not needing each other at all.
Ricky’s not dumb. No, despite what every teacher ever implied with their pitying eyes and evasive words, he’s not dumb. He knows that he and Nini are on borrowed time, the move only prolonging the inevitability of the shattering of his heart. But he can’t let her go.
So why is he here? He doesn’t know, but he does know Gina’s eyes shimmer with curiosity, “I could ask you the same question, Gina Porter.”
“But you didn’t. I did.”
“Touché,” Ricky pauses, trying to think of something of value he can say in response to her question. He comes up with nothing, “I guess. I don’t really know what I’m doing here, honestly.”
Gina’s eyebrows furrow. As if not knowing what she’s doing and why is unfathomable to her. And for all Ricky knows, it is. She could have all her ducks in a row, all of her t’s crossed and i’s dotted, and it makes Ricky horribly insecure. He lets his eyes fall away from her face to twitching hands, nerves overtaking him suddenly.
“Me neither. I’m here because there’s nowhere else to be. So, I get it.”
His eyes snap back to hers. Strangely touched by the words that weren’t even meant to comfort him. He smiles, “Better to be somewhere than nowhere.”
Even if nowhere was home, the desolate place devoid of any signs of life at all. He really should get some more furniture, to at least make it seem like there were people who wanted to exist in that space together.
“Yeah, exactly. Plus Miss Jenn kind of scares me,” Gina says, a smile inching up toward her ears. It’s incredible to see just how much beauty can be contained in a smile. He lets his own smile grow in response.
“She’s a little…intense. Not a bad thing necessarily.”
“Glad you feel that way. I’ve been told I can be,” she pauses, searching for the right words. She settles on, “a lot.”
“I think you’re just enough, actually,” Ricky says because he’s lost his mind in between her statement and his. She just smiles at him, graciously allowing him the space to wallow in his own embarrassment.
“Thanks. I think.”
“It was a compliment, don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worried at all actually,” Gina says, her tone light and teasing. The chatter gets louder around them, white noise akin to the noise of the ocean. It’s almost overwhelming, the constant noise combined with the assault on his senses by Gina’s beauty. He breaks eye contact, desperate for a moment of peace from his racing heart, but grateful for the reminder he’s alive.
It’s then that Miss Jenns speaks up, her voice cutting through the noise like a knife, effectively silencing the room, “Gina! You just have to thank your fiancé for the gifts. He really is just too kind!”
It’s as if someone injects ice into Ricky’s veins with the way he sits there frozen as the news washes over him. It’s a reminder that these moments he’s shared with Gina are all incredibly fleeting. It reminds him that he shouldn’t have been having these thoughts at all. Ricky fights against the sudden dryness of his mouth to swallow as he forces his eyes to settle back on Gina.
She wears a slight grimace, face pinched in discomfort before she responds, “It’s no problem, really, it’s the least he could do.”
For the first time, Gina avoids his eyes. It hurts a little more than it has a right to. He lets his eyes drift to her ring finger, only to find no ring there. Confusion clouds Ricky’s mind.
“You’re engaged?” Ricky asks. It’s loud in the quiet of the room, his tone rougher than he intended. He feels foolish, suddenly, for coming to the dinner. Foolish for his insistence on holding on to Nini. Foolish for his audacity to even exist.
Gina’s smile weakens, the corners turning down. It’s different than any of the smiles he’s seen before, but pretty in the same heart-aching way, “I am,” she pauses, knowing he’s spotted the lack of her ring before he can get the question out, “the ring was a bit gaudy for my taste.”
Ricky makes a small noise; he doesn’t know what to say. Words stick in the back of his throat, making it hard to breathe, “So where is the man of the hour?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” her smile contorts into a frown. Ricky’s stomach twists at the sight and it’s more than enough for him to hate the man without ever laying his eyes on him. Ricky can’t help but think about Nini, then, and her dedication to avoidance. He wonders if it’s the same for Gina. His stomach turns at the thought.
“He sounds like a real winner,” Ricky says. It’s not the right thing to say; he knows that the moment the words leave his lips. He means it, but honesty isn’t worth the price of Gina’s smile dimming, her open expression morphing into something unrecognizable. He feels sick with regret.
“And where’s your girlfriend?” she asks. The words slice against Ricky’s skin, leaving minuscule cuts on every part of him that he exposed to her. It leaves him feeling raw, but he smiles at her nonetheless. Understands that she’s just defending herself.
The understanding does little to soothe the ache that settles in his chest.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he parrots back at her.
“Oh,” Gina pauses, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip before she continues, “So you get it.”
Remorse is apparent in her tone, but pity is nowhere to be found. Gratitude floods Ricky’s system, loosening his limbs and allowing him to breathe once more. It’s a strange thing to look into the eyes of a stranger and feel understood, “Yeah, we’re in the same boat. Who would have thought I’d have so much in common with a person who broke into my house.”
“Oh, very funny. Last time I checked it wasn’t a crime to be a good neighbor.”
“No, but it is a crime to break into someone’s house. Funny little thing called breaking and entering.”
“I only entered actually.”
“I never thanked you for that,” Ricky says then; the little bit of light that Gina brought in with her has remained in his mind since that day, clutching it as a lifeline to get him through his days. Gina deserves some kind of thanks for that.
“It wasn’t anything, really. Honestly? It was kind of for me as much as it was for you. I might have not been in a fetal position, but I definitely think two more seconds in that apartment I would have been. So I owe you a thanks too,” Gina admits her voice low in a way that makes him lean in, waiting for whatever else she’s willing to tell him. A secret shared between strangers.
“No thanks needed. Really,” there is nothing Ricky needs less from Gina. More time spent in her addictive presence is really the only thing he craves.
But Gina shakes her head, “No, actually, let me ask EJ to send you something. He’s going out on a trip in a few days. Consider it a housewarming gift.”
The name sparks a flash of recognition in Ricky’s mind; it dances at the edges of his memories, but he can’t quite put his finger on why he knows it. All he knows is that he’s highly uninterested in anything this EJ could give him, but he can’t think fast enough to come up with a reason to say no.
Ricky smiles and simply says “Sure. Thanks, Gi.”
When a plant ends up on his front door, Ricky isn’t quite sure what to make of it. For starters, Ricky isn’t convinced that the plant hasn’t already begun to wilt, its leaves littered with holes and discolored. It’s large and the fact that it’s simply appeared on his doorstep makes Ricky feel ever so slightly uneasy. It’s never-ending surprises in this strange apartment.
As he begins to drag it by its pot he spots a note nestled snugly in the dirt. It’s a simple card; neat handwriting only saying happy housewarming with no names at all. He knows then it’s from Gina—or more specifically her ever elusive fiancé. At the thought of him, Ricky has the passing thought to tear the note into a million tiny pieces, or maybe chuck the entire plant out the window. He takes a deep breath instead.
Ricky’s a lot of things, but rude isn’t one of them. Mike and Lynne Bowen didn’t do much but they did instill in him manners; Ricky knows it’s the right thing to do is to walk over there and thank them for the plant, no matter how much he does not want it. He had enough on his plate trying to keep his relationship alive; he didn’t particularly have the time to take care of a plant as well.
He ends up at Gina’s door anyway, card in hand with a smile so wide and fake it borders on painful. He knows that Gina isn’t home, heard the clicking of her heels as she went to work this morning, but for once he also knows this EJ person is home. The walls of the apartment are thin save for a thick layer of white paint so he heard Gina’s elated giggles as EJ came home last night.
There’s still a niggling feeling in the back of his mind each time he thinks of him, so he really shouldn’t be surprised when he knocks and the door is opened by none other than Elton John Caswell himself.
Ricky’s luck astounds him sometimes. What were the odds of Nini’s boss being Gina’s fiancé? Ricky thinks that it must be at least one in a million. He feels his cheeks twitch uncomfortably as his face begs to frown at EJ’s horrifically green eyes.
“Can I help you?” EJ says. He wears a mask of annoyance, and for some reason, Ricky can’t help but revel in being the cause of this.
“I’m Ricky Bowen,” Ricky answers; there is absolutely no reason EJ shouldn’t know who he is. He just sent him the worst houseplant in the world, so Ricky thinks it’s fair that he recognizes his name. Despite this, EJ’s face stays the same, frown only deepening as he looks at Ricky with all the contempt in the world. He decides to elaborate further, “I think you just sent me a plant, man.”
Recognition begins to flood EJ’s face, but the annoyance remains there, “Oh, that Ricky Bowen. Gina told me to send you something,” he pauses, takes Ricky in for a second longer, “You’re Nina’s boyfriend, right?”
The way he says boyfriend makes it seem like it doesn’t matter at all; as if Ricky doesn’t matter at all, “Yes, I’m her partner,” Ricky’s never liked the word partner; something about it is sterile and professional, but he says it anyway. His chest puffed out in a way to make it known he can take up just as much space as EJ can, “I think we met at a Christmas party rebranded as a holiday party so you guys wouldn’t get in trouble.”
“At Caswell Industries we celebrate diversity, Ricky.”
It’s a bottled response, totally devoid of any emotion at all. Ricky is so unbelievably uncomfortable right now it feels as if he could jump out of his skin, “Right. Okay, um, I just wanted to say thank you for the housewarming gift.”
“No problem. Anything for one of my favorite worker’s boyfriend. You’ve got a real good girl on your hands, Bowen,” EJ says and clasps his hand on Ricky’s shoulder. His voice drips with a certain edge that Ricky isn’t really sure he likes, the annoyed look on his face replaced by a smug smirk.
It fills Ricky with pure dread. All he can think about, suddenly, is the late nights Nini spends at the office. He swallows and takes a step back to get EJ’s hand off his shoulder, it burns in the worst way, “Yeah. The best. Gina’s great too.”
He doesn’t know why he says it, but he knows what he wants it to do. He wants to plant a seed of doubt in the same way EJ has to him. Ricky has only seen Gina twice in his life, but that doesn’t matter as he matches EJ’s smug smirk with a terrible smile of his own. Ricky feels a bit like an ass, posturing like this with him, but it’s the only thing he can do to even remotely scrape by with his pride.
They stare at each other for a moment more before Ricky gives a small nod and leaves without a goodbye.
The walk back to his apartment is hellish, his feet dragging against the stained carpet and his mind unable to let go of what just transpired. He feels even worse when he sees Nini sitting on the couch, legs resting upon the coffee table, the picture of comfort.
“Hey, babe!” she hops up when he walks past the plant that has taken residence next to the door, “What’s with the plant? It’s weird, right?”
“Yeah. Totally weird,” his stomach sinks as she moves to kiss him. It’s a press of lips, barely lasting more than a second, and Ricky tries. He really does try to make it feel like it used to. The way his heart would flutter in his chest with every glance Nini gave him, but his mouth feels as if someone’s filled it with ash, serving only to remind him of the dying ember of the love they once shared.
“It’s nice though,” she runs a finger gently along the leaves. Ricky can’t even muster up a response. He simply takes himself to bed where he’ll hope for a better tomorrow.
There are two things that haunt him for the next two weeks: knowledge and Gina Porter. He doesn’t know which one is causing him more pain.
He sees Gina everywhere: in the grocery store picking up granola, the laundry room as she curses the machine that ate her change, the hallway as they enter their apartments— and all without saying a word to each other. It’s torturous.
But the knowledge of there being something between EJ and Nini, even if it’s barely anything at all, keeps him up at night. No amount of trying not to stare at Gina would compare to the despair that fills him when he thinks too hard about himself and Nini. Still, when Gina shows up at his doorstep mere seconds after she pops into his mind, he finds himself having a hard time believing she’s real.
“Hey,” she says as her hand flies up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear before continuing, “Are you busy?”
Busy thinking about her, maybe, but his days are relentlessly drab otherwise, “No, no come in. Do you want water, a snack, or anything? Mi casa es su casa.”
Gina cringes at him saying that as she walks into his apartment, his accent almost painfully American; Ricky wonders if it’s too late to pass it off as a bit, but the smile Gina wears convinces him to let her think of him as the biggest dork in the world.
“No, no thanks. I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to go to lunch?” Gina asks. Her voice is full of nerves, but she plows forward. Ricky’s ability to exist as a functioning human being all but abandons him as he resists the urge to faint at the suggestion.
“Just you being neighborly, again?”
“Something like that,” she smiles at him and it’s impossible not to smile back, “better to be doing something than nothing, right?”
“Right, let me just grab my wallet,” Ricky says and almost trips over himself in his haste. It’ll be nice to get out of the house outside of the terrible record store he works at, their collection covered in a fine layer of dust, all but forgotten by those who aren’t forced to be there.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” Gina says and brushes past him, her hand grazing his slightly. It’s brief but it lights his hand on fire, so much so that it takes everything in him not to reel back in shock. She leaves only the scent of her lavender perfume behind her, not sparing Ricky another glance before she’s out the door. He cracks a smile as she walks away; it still feels a little surreal that this is happening at all.
He takes a peek at himself in his front camera and pretends he can’t see the frizzy nature of his curls before smiling at himself. It’s a sorry attempt at imbuing himself with some confidence. Ricky lets his smile drop before he pockets his phone with a sigh and walks out of the door to meet Gina.
He takes the stairs rather than the elevator, soft music filling his mind with nothing but white noise that doesn’t drown out the thoughts that are beginning to mount. He can’t deny the fact that it’s odd, her asking him to lunch randomly. He doesn’t quite understand why someone would be interested in him. All the most interesting parts of him are the things he keeps behind closed doors.
But he wants this. He wants this strange, burgeoning friendship with Gina. He wants something that he can cradle in his hands without being scared that he’s strangling it. It’s easy with her, with her wide smile and smooth voice leading their conversations. He spots her the moment he walks outside, her curls fanning out behind her.
“Gina!” she turns around and Ricky’s rewarded by a smile and a wave. To which he promptly responds by tripping over an unfortunately placed crack in the sidewalk. It’s only a trip; Ricky thinks he rather gracefully saves himself from face-planting onto the sidewalk. He looks up at Gina once more, her hands flexed as if to catch him had he somehow been able to make it to her. A smile creeps its way onto his face.
“You okay?” Gina asks as he gets closer to her.
He laughs a little before responding, “You didn’t notice that save? My reflexes are sharper than a knife.”
“Oh yeah, it was really smooth. I only thought I was going to have to bring hospital for like a second and a half.”
“Okay even if I would have fallen, I know how to fall. I used to skateboard, thank you very much.”
“Used to?” Gina asks as they walk side by side. Their hands and shoulders brush with each step; fire licks its way up Ricky’s arm each time.
“Yeah…I’m not seventeen anymore.”
“Isn’t Tony Hawk, like, two hundred years old? And you’re, what? Twenty-four?”
“Twenty-five and more importantly I am no Tony Hawk.”
“And with that attitude, you never will be,” Gina teases, “So what do you do since you don’t skateboard? I hear you leaving your house some mornings.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Ricky jokes. Gina fixes him with a flat stare and he clears his throat before continuing, “Uh, I work at a record shop. We’ll pass it if we keep going down this street actually; which I have no idea if we will because you haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“Ever heard of a surprise?” Gina asks cheekily. She speeds up, suddenly a few paces in front of Ricky, as she turns around and walks backwards just so she can look him in the eyes as they talk. Gina’s curls flutter in the wind, tickling the edges of her face. Ricky swallows at the sight and has to turn his head, suddenly very interested in the dull concrete. Anything to distract from Gina’s beautiful smile. Ricky doesn’t really know how to deal with that. He’s used to looking at beauty, but there’s something undeniably different about Gina. He wishes he could pinpoint what it was.
“I have…can’t say I like them very much. Is it at least a good surprise?”
There’s a pause, the chirps of birds and the occasional passing of cars filling the silence between them, “I’ll let you decide that.”
She turns back from him once more, keeps her pace, and for a moment, Ricky thinks about not closing the gap between them. He thinks about turning back to his apartment, away from whatever surprise she may have up her sleeve. He’s suddenly, terribly scared that she knows something that he never wanted to find out.
He speeds up anyway, lets his steps fall back in time with hers as she bumps her shoulder with his to let him know to turn right. It’s familiar. Achingly so. He’s overwhelmed once more with the want to be her friend. It’s a feeling he’s beginning to know very well.
“Anyway, what about you?” He asks, and hears Gina’s faint hum in response, “What do you do?”
“Not much,” Gina says and there’s an edge of sadness to her voice. It’s a little strange, Ricky already used to the way Gina stands tall in the face of sadness, but there’s something…humanizing about it. She’s relatable in her melancholy.
“Are you purposefully mysterious or does it just come naturally to you?”
“Mysterious? Me?” She looks at him, and he sees a glint of white teeth as she flashes a smile his way, “I’m an open book. You just don’t know how to read between the lines.”
“You could teach me.”
“Teach you how to read?”
“Whoa don’t word it like that. I pulled off a B in all my English classes, thank you very much.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re a regular Ernest Hemmingway,” Gina says. Ricky’s eyebrows furrow, before he wipes his face clean. The name tickles at the edge of the recognition, he can recall hearing the name, but he blanks on anything of any substance the man had written; maybe his English teacher was an easy grader and he actually deserved that C he fought so hard against.
The silence stretches for a moment more before Gina speaks again, “He supposedly wrote this six-letter story. ‘For sale: baby shoes, never worn.’”
Her eyes bounce across his face as the words settle in his mind he feels his mouth drop open before he can really stop it, “Oh my god, Gina, that’s terrible. Are you, like, trying to break my heart right now?”
“What?!” her eyes twinkle in the sun, the clouds suddenly parting, “It’s a very well known story.”
“Okay, it wasn’t known to me, though.”
“I’m not seeing how that’s my fault,” she pauses before slowing down, “We’re here.”
It’s a small place, barely wide enough for the booths that line the wall. Quiet music fills the air that smells something like home. Home before the word was soured by his mother’s absence, and then ruined forever as Nini followed in his mom’s footsteps.
“How’d you find this place?” Ricky asks as they slide into one of the booths. Their knees knock together, their legs long and the table small; Ricky takes a breath and tries to force down the blush that begins to crawl up from his neck.
“Well. I spend a lot of time alone so I try to, I guess, escape. Find something that makes me happy.”
“And this is it?” it’s a nice place; Ricky can’t deny that, but he feels a numbness start at his fingers as he comes to the realization that this might be the only thing she has right now.
“Yeah, yeah it is. I mean, EJ’s great. He really is,” Gina pauses and at the mention of his name Ricky has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, “But it’s kind of hard to be happy about that when he’s never around.”
Ricky takes in her downturned eyes, the frown that has set in. His heart breaks; somehow, someway Gina’s heartache hurts worse than the pain he carries with himself at all times, and without realizing he’s reaching across the table to grab her hand and saying something nonsensical because logical thinking flies out the window when it comes to Gina Porter, “I can help.”
“What?” Gina’s eyes snap up to his, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Ricky swallows and tries to push forward despite the pang in his chest.
“You know, with your happiness levels, I guess?” he says as Gina looks at him blankly, waiting for him to continue and maybe make some sense, “I mean, we could be friends.”
A small smirk settles on Gina’s lips. It feels a little bit like victory, “And being your friend would make me happier?”
“Ouch. Well, I know being yours would make me happier. It’s like we’re living in that scene from High School Musical where Troy and Gabriella decide to be friends just like they're in kindergarten.”
“You know HSM?” Gina's smirk has widened into a full blown grin at this point.
“Oh yeah, I’m basically an HSM historian at this point. It’s one of Nini’s favorite movies. She wanted to go for Gabriella back in high school, but she never did. Plus, I mean it was the highest selling album in 2006.”
“Seriously?”
“I work at a record shop, Gina.”
“Oh, so now you have an encyclopedic knowledge of everything related to music.”
“Exactly, ask me a question about any album at any time.”
Gina thinks for a moment, and tilts her head as if to listen to the ambient music pumping through the speakers, “What was the most popular electronic album in 1992?”
“Slanted and Enchanted by Pavement,” Ricky answers automatically. Gina’s eyes widen comically as an impressed look overtakes the teasing smile that was there before.
“Are you being for real?”
“No, but it sounded good, didn’t it?”
It’s the moment that Gina pulls her hand away in betrayal that Ricky realizes he had never taken his hand back. It had been resting on Gina’s, his thumb absently rubbing against the cool metal of her bracelet, “Ugh, I knew you were messing with me. Like, even someone who obviously loves music the way you do would not know that random fact. I can’t believe I fell for it.”
“Best performance of my life, honestly,” Ricky says as he ignores how cold his hand feels now that it’s not holding hers.
She rolls her eyes, but Ricky swears that he can see a flicker of fondness in her eyes as she rests them back on him, “So, we’re friends now?”
“I think so. It’s a little too soon for the title best friends, right?”
“I think we’re the ones who get to decide if it’s too soon or not.”
“True, very true. So. Best friends?” Ricky sticks out his pinky, asking her, pleading her, to make a promise to him to be his friend.
She doesn’t make him wait long, her hand sticking out to take his pinky in her, and as they shake on it she says, “Best friends.”
The happiness that swells within his chest is short-lived, though, as Gina takes a deep breath and continues on, “As your friend. I need to tell you something.”
He doesn’t want to know. He wants whatever he and Gina have to be preserved in this strange little bubble they’ve made. He thought the bubble was made of metal, impenetrable and opaque to all those who tried to look, but it isn’t. The time he’s spending with Gina is fragile, at best, and he already knows what is going to come out of Gina’s mouth before she has the chance to say it.
“Nina’s cheating on you,” her voice cracks at the end of her sentence and she stops to collect herself before continuing, “With EJ.”
For a second, everything freezes. The music screeches to a halt and the sound of his own rushing blood fills his ears. He thinks that, maybe, he’s going to throw up. Which is something he absolutely does not want to do in front of Gina. That’s at least a three-month best friend thing. Ricky also believes he might keel over and die, which is something he also doesn’t want to do in front of Gina. That’s more of a year-long best friend thing.
Ricky distantly realizes that shock is not one of the emotions that course through his body. No, he knew. He knew that Nini was doing something behind his back. He knew that they were in a bad place, but he never, ever thought it would get to this point. Time starts back up, the music slowly leaking into his brain once more. He looks at Gina, takes in her worried expression.
He says the only thing he can say to that, “I know.”
“You know?” Gina’s eyebrows are furrowed as she asks. He feels sick with the want to smooth the crease that’s there.
“I mean, I suspected when I went to thank EJ for the plant. I guess, it’s good to know for sure,” Ricky sighs, and it feels like a herculean task to even breathe, “So, what do we do?”
“Whatever feels right. I think I want to try and fix this with EJ. I mean we’re engaged. How can I quit on that?” Gina gnaws at her bottom lip, and for a second, Ricky thinks that maybe she wants him to convince her otherwise, “Are you…are you going to stay with Nina?”
Ricky thinks on it. Who is Ricky Bowen without Nini Salazar-Roberts? Can he even be considered Ricky at that point? He doesn’t think he wants to find out, “I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“That’s not true. I hear you playing guitar. And it’s good. Plus, you know how to be my friend.”
Ricky lets out a snort, “Yeah, I guess I do, but I don’t know, Gina. Don’t you think that maybe you deserve better?”
He doesn’t want to push; he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, cross some line he can’t quite see, but Gina smiles. It’s the saddest smile he’s ever seen.
“And you don’t?”
No, I don’t. The answer pops into his head before he can stop it. He doesn’t even know if he believes it; he knows he and Nini weren’t in a good place, and that maybe he played a bigger part in that than he wants to admit. He can’t say that to Gina; he already knows she’d fight him on it, defending him despite barely knowing him.
“Touché,” he says instead.
Gina reaches across the table to grab his hand in both of hers and squeezes. It’s grounding, the warmth that radiates from her hands and spreads throughout his entire body.
“I just wish I knew why. Like how do you do that to a person you're supposed to love?”
“It’s almost like they’re trying not to hurt us by hurting us more. It’s poetic almost.”
“Strangely enough, you’re right. Still, even though I want to fix this, there’s a part of me that wants to get back at him. In some way.”
An idea dawns on Ricky as he processes her words, “Well. Maybe you can.”
“What are you thinking, Bowen?” amusement replaces the sad tone of her voice. And already Ricky feels his own mood lifting.
“Okay, just hear me out alright,” Ricky starts, “Maybe you and I do a sort of experiment.”
“I’m listening…” Gina says tentatively.
“What if we, sort of, played out how we think it happened? You know, between Nini and EJ? Obviously, nothing would actually happen between us, but we could maybe understand them.”
“So it would be acting,” Gina says, her head nodding a little bit as his words sink in.
“Yeah. Just as a way of, I don’t know, having something for ourselves.”
“And nothing would happen? Between you and me?”
“No, of course not. We’re both staying with our partners,” and if Ricky tries hard enough, he can pretend it isn’t hurting him to say no. He can pretend that there isn’t some microscopic part of him that looks at Gina and knows there’s something so enticingly different about her. Something different in the way he feels about her.
“Okay…then I agree. We will play the roles of cheaters with each other rather than cheated,” Gina stops. She says it like a joke, but neither she nor Ricky can laugh. Tension mounts between them and the only thing Ricky can hear is the uneven beating of his heart, “And you’re sure about this? You’re sure you won’t regret it?”
“I don’t think I could ever regret you, Gina.”
He holds eye contact with Gina; lets her assess whether he means it or not. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been more honest in his life. She breaks eye contact with a breathy laugh.
“Famous last words,” Gina says before opening the menu in front of her face, effectively blocking his view of her. Without Gina’s pretty eyes boring into his soul, he finds himself taking a deep breath and wondering whether this is such a good idea after all.