Maybe Now
Page 50
Ridge: We don’t need much to get by. I think it’s more important that you do what your heart is telling you to do. As long as you’re doing what you really want to do, I’ll do whatever I need in order to help you see it through to the end. Whether that’s next year with a teaching degree or ten years and a doctorate from now.
Sydney: I’m adding that to my “Things Ridge says” folder. In case I have to revert back to it in the future. Because if I change majors, I’m going to be really broke. So broke, I won’t even be able to buy new clothes. I’ll be wearing this same shirt five years from now.
Ridge: Even if your clothes are faded, they’ll always look new on you.
I feel her laugh.
Sydney: Oh, that’s a good line. You should put that line in a song.
Ridge: I will. I promise.
She slides her laptop off her lap and flips over, climbing up me. She kisses me.“Do you want some ice cream? I want dessert.”
I shake my head. “I’ll just take a bite of yours.”
She kisses me again and then stands and walks to the kitchen. I readjust myself on the couch and open up a text to Warren.
Ridge: What time are we leaving tomorrow?
Warren: I dunno. Let me open up a group text and ask Maggie.
Warren: Maggot, what time are we leaving for the caves tomorrow?
Maggie: Call me that again and I’ll use all the hot water tonight. I don’t know. It’ll be after lunch. Jake can’t be here until noon.
Ridge: Are we doing lunch on the way or should we eat before?
Maggie: Let’s eat on the way. I’ll feel bad if he gets here and hasn’t eaten.
Warren: Okay. Lunch. Be hungry. Got it. Ridge, you and Syd meeting us here or do we need to pick you up?
Ridge: We can meet you guys there.
Maggie: Can I ask a favor? And this is mostly of Warren.
Warren: I’M GOING TO BE NICE TO HIM! STOP WORRYING, MAGGIE!
Maggie: I know you’ll be nice. I don’t worry about that. I worry about you being completely inappropriate.
Warren: Oh. Well, yeah. You should definitely worry about that.
I laugh and set my phone down because Sydney is walking back to the couch with a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, and I don’t want to think about anything else right now. As if she can see my thoughts, she grins a little, pulling the spoon out of her mouth.
“You want a bite?”
I nod.
She doesn’t sit next to me on the couch to share it with me. She straddles me, holding the bowl of ice cream between us as she adjusts her legs on either side of me. She scoops a small spoon of the ice cream and gives me a bite. I swallow it, and then she dips her head and kisses me. Her mouth tastes like vanilla. Her tongue is cold as it slides against mine.
I pull her closer, but the bowl of ice cream between us is hindering me. I grab the bowl and set it aside on the table next to her and then pull her to me. I kiss her as I slowly lower her to the couch.
She’s about to melt, just like her bowl of ice cream.
Last night I dreamt Jake showed up with a date. A tall redhead with a French accent and black Louboutin heels.
Who goes to explore caves in high heels?
Or…better yet…who shows up for a date with a date?
I was covered in sweat when I woke up, but I’m not sure if it was because Jake showed up in my dream with a date or because Warren and Bridgette shared one body with two heads. Both aspects of my dream were equally disturbing.
I don’t know if it’s my dream that has me so shaken, or if it’s the fact that I’ve yet to have a conversation with Jake about the dynamics of our group, but I’m standing at the bathroom sink trying to brush my teeth, and my hand is visibly shaking.
I want to be able to talk to Jake before he meets everyone, but he’ll be here in half an hour, and I can’t very well call him minutes before he arrives and say, “Oh, by the way, you’re about to hang out with my ex-boyfriend today. Both my ex-boyfriends, actually. It’ll be fun!”
I should have cancelled.
I almost did when I woke up after the nightmare I had last night. I had an excuse all typed out in a text to him about why I needed to cancel, but I was too scared to send it. He’d see right through it. I’ve been unreliable one too many times with him, and pushing him away again would probably be the last contact he’d have with me. Besides, in our conversation last night, he said he wants consistency. I don’t want our consistency to be me pushing him away. I want it to be me following through with him. I just have to get him alone somehow before he meets Warren or Ridge. He deserves to know what he’s getting into before he walks into this apartment.
If I could get him from the front door to my bedroom without him meeting anyone, it would give us a few minutes alone to reacquaint ourselves without standing in the danger zone that is the communal living room of this apartment.
That’s what I’ll do. I’ll somehow drag him to my room before introductions.
As soon as I finish brushing my teeth, I dry my mouth with a hand towel and stare at my reflection. Other than the absolute fear in my eyes, I look like I usually do. I return my toothbrush to my toiletry bag, just as Bridgette swings open the bathroom door that leads to their room. She pauses when she sees me. I pause when I see her.
It’s always been awkward between us, but we’ve never had to share a bathroom before, so the fact that she’s in her barely there underwear takes awkward to a whole new level. For me, anyway. She doesn’t seem bothered that I’m seeing her nearly nude, because she walks straight to the toilet and pulls down her panties to pee.
She’s just as uninhibited as Warren.
“So,” Bridgette says, unrolling toilet paper into her hand. “Does this guy realize what he’s getting into?”
“What do you mean?”
She waves a hand in a circle. “You know. This whole group he’s about to spend the day with. Does he know the history?”
I close my eyes for a second, breathing in steadily. “Not yet,” I say, exhaling.
Bridgette does something she rarely does. She grins.
No…she smiles. A huge, excited smile that reveals all her perfect white teeth. She should smile more often. She has a great smile, although it’s appearing at an odd moment.
“Why do you look so happy?” I ask with caution.
“It’s just been so long since I’ve been this excited about something.”
I look away from her without responding and glance back at my own reflection. I look pale. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m nervous or if my blood sugar levels are off. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between low blood sugar, high blood sugar, or the onset of a panic attack.
I leave the bathroom and walk to the kitchen. My purse is on the counter, so I dig through it until I find my glucose monitor kit. I lean against the counter while I check my blood sugar. As soon as I insert the test strip into the monitor, the front door begins to open.
Ridge and Sydney walk into the apartment, hand in hand. Sydney greets me and Ridge nods, then signs to Sydney that he’s going to shower. On his way to his bedroom, though, he does a double take when he sees the testing kit in my hands. His forehead naturally creases with worry.
“I’m fine,” I sign. “Just wanted to check it before we leave to be safe.”
Relief floods his expression. “How long before we leave?”
I shrug. “No rush. Jake isn’t even here yet.”
He nods and heads to his bedroom. Sydney sets her purse on the bar next to mine and opens a cabinet, grabbing a bag of tortilla chips.
My glucose levels are in the normal range. I sigh, relieved, then put the kit back in my purse. I grab my phone and open up my texts with Jake. We had a quick conversation this morning. I sent him the address to our apartment, and half an hour later he responded with a text that said, Conference over. On my way.
That was almost an hour ago. Which means he’ll be knocking on the door any minute now.
“You okay?” Sydney asks.
I look up from my phone. She’s leaning against the counter, staring at me with concern as she munches on chips. “You look a little nervous,” she adds.
Is it that obvious? “I do?”
Sydney: I’m adding that to my “Things Ridge says” folder. In case I have to revert back to it in the future. Because if I change majors, I’m going to be really broke. So broke, I won’t even be able to buy new clothes. I’ll be wearing this same shirt five years from now.
Ridge: Even if your clothes are faded, they’ll always look new on you.
I feel her laugh.
Sydney: Oh, that’s a good line. You should put that line in a song.
Ridge: I will. I promise.
She slides her laptop off her lap and flips over, climbing up me. She kisses me.“Do you want some ice cream? I want dessert.”
I shake my head. “I’ll just take a bite of yours.”
She kisses me again and then stands and walks to the kitchen. I readjust myself on the couch and open up a text to Warren.
Ridge: What time are we leaving tomorrow?
Warren: I dunno. Let me open up a group text and ask Maggie.
Warren: Maggot, what time are we leaving for the caves tomorrow?
Maggie: Call me that again and I’ll use all the hot water tonight. I don’t know. It’ll be after lunch. Jake can’t be here until noon.
Ridge: Are we doing lunch on the way or should we eat before?
Maggie: Let’s eat on the way. I’ll feel bad if he gets here and hasn’t eaten.
Warren: Okay. Lunch. Be hungry. Got it. Ridge, you and Syd meeting us here or do we need to pick you up?
Ridge: We can meet you guys there.
Maggie: Can I ask a favor? And this is mostly of Warren.
Warren: I’M GOING TO BE NICE TO HIM! STOP WORRYING, MAGGIE!
Maggie: I know you’ll be nice. I don’t worry about that. I worry about you being completely inappropriate.
Warren: Oh. Well, yeah. You should definitely worry about that.
I laugh and set my phone down because Sydney is walking back to the couch with a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, and I don’t want to think about anything else right now. As if she can see my thoughts, she grins a little, pulling the spoon out of her mouth.
“You want a bite?”
I nod.
She doesn’t sit next to me on the couch to share it with me. She straddles me, holding the bowl of ice cream between us as she adjusts her legs on either side of me. She scoops a small spoon of the ice cream and gives me a bite. I swallow it, and then she dips her head and kisses me. Her mouth tastes like vanilla. Her tongue is cold as it slides against mine.
I pull her closer, but the bowl of ice cream between us is hindering me. I grab the bowl and set it aside on the table next to her and then pull her to me. I kiss her as I slowly lower her to the couch.
She’s about to melt, just like her bowl of ice cream.
Last night I dreamt Jake showed up with a date. A tall redhead with a French accent and black Louboutin heels.
Who goes to explore caves in high heels?
Or…better yet…who shows up for a date with a date?
I was covered in sweat when I woke up, but I’m not sure if it was because Jake showed up in my dream with a date or because Warren and Bridgette shared one body with two heads. Both aspects of my dream were equally disturbing.
I don’t know if it’s my dream that has me so shaken, or if it’s the fact that I’ve yet to have a conversation with Jake about the dynamics of our group, but I’m standing at the bathroom sink trying to brush my teeth, and my hand is visibly shaking.
I want to be able to talk to Jake before he meets everyone, but he’ll be here in half an hour, and I can’t very well call him minutes before he arrives and say, “Oh, by the way, you’re about to hang out with my ex-boyfriend today. Both my ex-boyfriends, actually. It’ll be fun!”
I should have cancelled.
I almost did when I woke up after the nightmare I had last night. I had an excuse all typed out in a text to him about why I needed to cancel, but I was too scared to send it. He’d see right through it. I’ve been unreliable one too many times with him, and pushing him away again would probably be the last contact he’d have with me. Besides, in our conversation last night, he said he wants consistency. I don’t want our consistency to be me pushing him away. I want it to be me following through with him. I just have to get him alone somehow before he meets Warren or Ridge. He deserves to know what he’s getting into before he walks into this apartment.
If I could get him from the front door to my bedroom without him meeting anyone, it would give us a few minutes alone to reacquaint ourselves without standing in the danger zone that is the communal living room of this apartment.
That’s what I’ll do. I’ll somehow drag him to my room before introductions.
As soon as I finish brushing my teeth, I dry my mouth with a hand towel and stare at my reflection. Other than the absolute fear in my eyes, I look like I usually do. I return my toothbrush to my toiletry bag, just as Bridgette swings open the bathroom door that leads to their room. She pauses when she sees me. I pause when I see her.
It’s always been awkward between us, but we’ve never had to share a bathroom before, so the fact that she’s in her barely there underwear takes awkward to a whole new level. For me, anyway. She doesn’t seem bothered that I’m seeing her nearly nude, because she walks straight to the toilet and pulls down her panties to pee.
She’s just as uninhibited as Warren.
“So,” Bridgette says, unrolling toilet paper into her hand. “Does this guy realize what he’s getting into?”
“What do you mean?”
She waves a hand in a circle. “You know. This whole group he’s about to spend the day with. Does he know the history?”
I close my eyes for a second, breathing in steadily. “Not yet,” I say, exhaling.
Bridgette does something she rarely does. She grins.
No…she smiles. A huge, excited smile that reveals all her perfect white teeth. She should smile more often. She has a great smile, although it’s appearing at an odd moment.
“Why do you look so happy?” I ask with caution.
“It’s just been so long since I’ve been this excited about something.”
I look away from her without responding and glance back at my own reflection. I look pale. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m nervous or if my blood sugar levels are off. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between low blood sugar, high blood sugar, or the onset of a panic attack.
I leave the bathroom and walk to the kitchen. My purse is on the counter, so I dig through it until I find my glucose monitor kit. I lean against the counter while I check my blood sugar. As soon as I insert the test strip into the monitor, the front door begins to open.
Ridge and Sydney walk into the apartment, hand in hand. Sydney greets me and Ridge nods, then signs to Sydney that he’s going to shower. On his way to his bedroom, though, he does a double take when he sees the testing kit in my hands. His forehead naturally creases with worry.
“I’m fine,” I sign. “Just wanted to check it before we leave to be safe.”
Relief floods his expression. “How long before we leave?”
I shrug. “No rush. Jake isn’t even here yet.”
He nods and heads to his bedroom. Sydney sets her purse on the bar next to mine and opens a cabinet, grabbing a bag of tortilla chips.
My glucose levels are in the normal range. I sigh, relieved, then put the kit back in my purse. I grab my phone and open up my texts with Jake. We had a quick conversation this morning. I sent him the address to our apartment, and half an hour later he responded with a text that said, Conference over. On my way.
That was almost an hour ago. Which means he’ll be knocking on the door any minute now.
“You okay?” Sydney asks.
I look up from my phone. She’s leaning against the counter, staring at me with concern as she munches on chips. “You look a little nervous,” she adds.
Is it that obvious? “I do?”
