More than Distance

30

He grabbed the room service menu and tossed it on the bed next to me. “Order something to eat. I’m going downstairs.”

He was leaving? “Wait.” I scrambled off the bed. “I’ll come with you.”

We found a Mexican restaurant on the first floor of the hotel, which had the bonus of cheap margaritas. We couldn’t afford anything nicer anyway, not on the hundred dollars we got per episode to spend on food, gas, maps, and other supplies. We’d already spent about half of it, but we’d get more tomorrow and whatever we didn’t spend would carry over to the next day.

At first, we both stared at our menus in silence. I read mine three times before I realized I had to do something or this would be a very long, very awkward dinner. If we were going to keep working together on the show, we needed to get along. I’d have to stick to safe topics. No discussion of kissing or the past. Talking about family was off the table too. That left work.

“What’s your favorite thing about your job?” I asked.

He looked surprised and set his menu down. “Developing a new project, like an app or a game, from the ground up. At first it seems like it will never work, but when it comes together, there’s no better feeling.”

“That must be amazing, to be able to create something like that. Especially when millions of people use it.”

“Yes. Too bad my father doesn’t agree with you.”

The waiter came and took our orders, then left us with a basket of chips and salsa. Ryan took a chip and asked, “What do you like about modeling?”

“The travel, the makeup and clothes, some of the people…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t want to talk about myself. “What’s your least favorite thing about your job?”

“Having every random person I meet tell me they have an idea for an app. What’s your least favorite thing?”

I dipped a chip in the salsa. “Having everyone judge my appearance constantly. Too fat. Too tall. Too black. Not black enough. It’s exhausting. And I’m so tired of always watching what I eat.” I shoved the chip in my mouth as if in protest.

“I can see how that would be frustrating.”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s dumb. I hate when girls complain about being pretty. But it’d be nice to be praised for something other than my looks once in a while.”

The waiter brought our margaritas and I took a huge sip of mine, which resulted in an immediate brain freeze. “What’s the worst app idea you’ve ever heard?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Most of them are ideas for weird dating apps. But there was one… This guy wanted to make an app that he pitched as car sharing for dogs. Basically, you’d put out a notice your dog needed walking and some random stranger would pick it up on their way to work or wherever they were going.”

“That sounds terrible! How would you know the person wouldn’t let your dog run into the street or something? Or just keep it?” I shuddered at the idea. I’d grown up with the best dog ever, a corgi named Hamster (blame Daniel for the name), and one of my dreams was to get another one someday when my life was settled. I couldn’t imagine letting someone I didn’t trust walk my dog.

“Exactly. And there was no return system. So the person would walk the dog to work, and then what? Leave it there? Let someone else take it?” He shook his head. “It would never work. Even if there was a way to verify the people, there wouldn’t be enough of a demand for such a thing to sustain the costs.” He took another chip. “He called it Woofer.”

“Woofer?” I laughed. “Seriously?”

“Yep. He wanted to do a cat version too called Meowist.”

I nearly spit out the margarita I was drinking. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

That lazy smirk was back. “Now you see what I have to put up with.”

“You definitely have it rough.” I giggled again. Warmth pooled in my stomach and our eyes locked. My gaze fell to his mouth. My lips were heavy with the taste of him.

He looked away first. “What are you going to do once the show is over? Go back to modeling?”

“I’m not sure.” I played with the salt on my margarita glass. “I had everything planned out with that job in New York and now I feel…lost.”

“Hmm.” His dark eyes regarded me. “What would you like to do?”

“Nope. You already asked me a question. Now it’s my turn.”

His head tilted. “Is this a game, then?”

I pointed at him with a chip. “That’s also a question.”

“Both questions were addendums to the original question. You did the same thing earlier.”

“Fine, I’ll allow it.” Dammit, this game sucked. “I don’t know what I want to do. I guess I can keep modeling for a while, but…”

He gestured for me to continue. “But…”

“I was hoping to move on from that into something more stable. There’s not much long-term career potential in modeling once you get older. I want a career I know will last. I’m just not sure what that is yet.”

The waiter brought our food out. A tostada for me, and an enchilada and taco combo for him. When the waiter left, it was my turn for a question.

“Have you had anyone serious in your life these past years?” The words tumbled out of my mouth and I immediately regretted the question.

Ryan’s expression hardened. “No. I don’t have serious relationships. I have no interest in being tied down.”

“Is that why you have a new girl on your arm every other week?” Oh my gosh, I needed to stop talking. What had they put in this margarita?

Something shifted on his face. A tiny crack. A slight peek at emotion. Then it was gone. “Yes.” He stabbed his fork at his rice. “When we were kids you wanted to be an engineer. What happened to that plan?”