by Staci Hart
Lily’s cheeks were flushed, her smile bright. “It’s kind of what I’ve been telling you. There’s absolutely a chance for you. Are you going to take it?”
I met her eyes. “I have to.”
“Well, what the hell are you doing over here then? Get back over there.”
I chuckled. “As much as I want to just go over there and get her, you and I both know she’s not ready for that.”
She wrinkled her nose. “No, probably not. Whats your plan?”
I sighed and stretched. “I haven’t figured it out yet. I definitely think I need to be over there as much as possible — it’s the only only way I’m going to get her to trust me. But I gave up your bed to Ellie, and … I don’t know. I knew she wanted me to try to not sleep on her couch, so here I am.”
“Use us as an excuse,” Lily said.
I raised a brow.
She grinned as she sat up and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Seriously. That’s been the excuse all this time, right? Well, get back over there and tell her we’re just too loud and horny and inconsiderate for you to sleep here.”
“Like, right now?” I asked, thinking of three reasons off the top of my head that going over there at that moment was a terrible idea.
“No, not right now.” She waved a hand. “Not until she’s asleep. It won’t be long — it’s so late. So in like a half-hour, just go over there and crash. Problem solved.”
West laughed. “Aren’t we just a bunch of conspirators?”
Lily shrugged and hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “I mean, West and I can go in there and get crazy if you need us to.”
I put out a hand. “Yeah, no. I’m good.” I paused, thinking it over, weighing it out.
Lily rolled her eyes. “Oh, my God. Just do it. Come here, West. Tricky needs motivation. Stick your tongue down my throat.” She grabbed his face comically and pulled, smushing her lips against his, making exaggerated moaning noises. West laughed against her mouth.
I chuckled, shaking my head at them. “All right, all right. I’ll go.”
Lily stopped being gross and smiled, looking proud of herself. “I’m happy for you, Tricky. I hope it works.”
I smiled back as I stood. “Me too. ‘Night, guys.”
“‘Night,” they called after me as I headed into my room.
I turned on the lamp next to my bed, an island of soft light in the dark as I pulled off my jacket. Untied my boots. Unbuttoned my shirt and tugged off my jeans. And then I slipped into bed, sinking into the comfort of my own sheets, my own pillow.
Rose had another date tomorrow, and I wasn’t even ashamed to say that I hoped it was a disaster. I hoped it bought me more time. Brought her closer to me. Maybe this year I’d get what I wanted for my birthday. I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining it — the first kiss, the first touch, the feeling of her in my arms.
I think I drifted off for a moment because when I opened my eyes, the light was a little too bright, my body heavy as I dragged it out of bed. I wrapped myself in my comforter and shuffled down the hall to Rose’s, laying down on her couch that was a little too short to really be comfortable, staring into the dark room, though everything came into focus eventually.
Eventually.
The word defined so much of my life. Eventually she’d come around in one way or another. Eventually I’d need to figure out what to do with myself. Eventually, I’d need to get the girl or move on. But we were all caught in a transition, and the only way out was time. The dice were in the air, and we were all waiting for them to hit the table and roll to see if we’d won or lost.
JOAN JETT
Rose
I LEANED OVER THE COUNTER in the bathroom the next afternoon, lips stretched in an O as I lined my them in my favorite shade of red: Bloody Valentine.
Seemed appropriate for a first date.
Diving back into the boy catalog with a little more gusto and higher standards had been the right move, just like moving on from Patrick was. He was sleeping back at his place, and now everything would go back to normal.
Nothing has changed. Nothing at all.
I was going to make dating my bitch. Good date today or bad, I was determined to keep going. As skeptical as I had been about finding a guy online, it was the perfect, low-impact way to ease myself back into the game.
I took a last look at myself in the mirror — skinny black jeans, ankle boots, leather jacket, big, shaggy hair. Lily said I intimidated guys, but I just figured it was an easy method for weeding out anyone who couldn’t handle me. At least this way they knew what they were getting. Or at least I told myself that was why, and that it had nothing to do with me preferring loneliness to getting hurt again.
When I made my way into the living room, I found Ellie stretched out on the couch, red hair piled on her head. Her eyes were glued to the TV, which I figured had been on MTV since she’d turned it on, but what stopped me in my tracks was the fact that she was wrapped in Patrick’s comforter.
I stopped behind the arm chair with my stomach in my throat, part of me convinced they’d had sex. Maybe on my couch. I thought I might puke. “Why do you have Tricky’s blanket?”
Her face quirked as she looked over at me. “Hmm?”
“That blanket. It’s Tricky’s. Did you …”
Her brows shot up. “God, no.” But her surprise slipped into a comical leer. “I mean, not like I wouldn’t, if it weren’t for the fact that you still want to bang him.”
I scowled. “Do not.”
“Yeah, right.” She leaned forward and picked up a folded piece of paper off the coffee table. “The blanket was on the couch when I woke up. I found this note too.”
I stuck out my hand to take it, but she unfolded it and began to read.
“Rose, I might take you up on your offer after all. Crashed on the couch, hope it’s okay. Let me know. Tricky.”
She handed it to me, and I smiled, only partly annoyed she’d snooped my note. Mostly, I was just relieved she hadn’t slept with Patrick.
“So, he’s going to be staying here after all?” she asked and wet her lips. “Tell me he sleeps naked.”
I chuckled and rolled my eyes as I walked into the kitchen. “You’re impossible.”
She waggled her eyebrows. “Is he tattooed everywhere?”
The pantry didn’t have anything appetizing, so I decided on a lemon bar for breakfast. I salivated at the thought and reached for the bag on the counter, but it was empty. I pouted. “Only crazy people tattoo their dicks, Ellie. Fact of life.”
She tilted her head. “But doesn’t it look weird if he’s tattooed everywhere but there?”
“Trust me, when it’s in your face, that’s the last thing you’re thinking about. The piercing makes it look fierce enough.”
Her eyes widened, and she giggled. “Oh, my God. Does he have any friends?”
“More than a few.” I grabbed my bag and slung it on. “You’ll meet them in a couple of days. Everyone’s going to Habits for Tricky’s birthday.”
“Oh, goodie.” She pulled his blanket up a little and stuck her nose in it, closing her eyes as she inhaled. “This smells good. Like boy and laundry.”
I sighed and grabbed my keys, knowing all too well. “Yup.”
“Where are you going, all dressed up?” she asked, confused.
“Meeting Music Mark at Roasted.”
“I totally forgot. Want me to call you like fifteen minutes in? Give you an out?”
I chuckled. “After Stinky Steve, that might be a good idea, but I have hope.”
“I should set an alarm or something. I can’t be trusted to keep track of time on a normal day, never mind when Teen Mom is on.” She picked up her phone.
“All right. I better get going. Wish me luck.”
She waved enthusiastically. “Good luck!”
I laughed and grabbed my bag. “Thanks, El. Talk to you in a bit.”
The walk to Roasted was a good one, with every step steady and fu
ll of decision. As if I could make my destiny just by willing it. I wanted to move on, so I would. I wanted to date, so I’d do it, and God help anybody that got in my way, because I was on the warpath to getting past my past. Even though he’d come back to sleep in my apartment again after all.
I pulled open the door and stepped inside, scanning the coffee shop for Mark, but I didn’t find him. Figured I may as well get my coffee while I waited, so I hopped in line.
It was nearly my turn when I heard my name. “Rose?”
I turned to find Mark smiling at me, and it was a great smile. He was a little taller than me, with a dark beard and hair long enough that it brushed the collar of his leather jacket.
“Mark, hey.” I smiled back just as the person in front of me moved out of the way, and it was my turn. I stepped up to the register. “Hi, can I get a regular chai and a lemon bar, please?”
“Sure,” the barista answered. “Anything else?”
Mark stepped up and pulled out his wallet. “Can I get a large drip?”
“Sure, name?”
“I’m Quincy, and this is Joan.” He handed a twenty to her, and she gave him change.
I smiled as we moved out of the way to wait for our drinks, intrigued. “Quincy?” I asked, one brow raised.
He smiled and leaned in like we were scheming. “Jones. And you’re Joan Jett.”
I laughed. “I like it. How’d you know I was a fan?”
He shrugged. “You just put out that vibe, like you make the world your bitch on the regular.”
“How can you kick the world in the face if you leave your badass at home?”
“My point exactly.”
They called our names, and my optimism climbed a notch as we grabbed our drinks and sat down. I couldn’t help but look him over, fooling with the cardboard sleeve as he settled in. Mark was cute, normal, bought me coffee, and called me Joan Jett.
First impressions, for the win. The guy was a charmer, that was for sure.
He sat back in his chair and manspread his legs. I tried not to form an opinion about that, figuring if his worst flaw was that he was a nightmare to sit next to on the subway, I was doing all right. Definitely a step up from a guy who hung out with dead animals for a living.
“So, you’re a musician?” I asked.
“All my life.”
“What kind of music?”
He made a face and shook his head, looking away. “I hate comparisons. No one said Nirvana sounded like anyone but Nirvana.”
Oh, God. He was one of those musicians. Jack was one of those musicians. If I’d had to sit through another conversation with him defending Tom Waits, I would have broken up with him first.
I took a breath and smiled, sure I was just being too picky, like Lily always said. “Okay, how about a genre?”
He shook his head. “Labels are so confining. I just want to create, you know? Sometimes I’ll sit for hours recording, just me, my keyboard, and my weed. I once laid down a fourteen hour atmospheric synth track.” He looked so proud of himself.
My hopes were dashed. Mark may not have been the first musician I’d dated, but I decided then that he should probably be my last.
“Wow,” was the only response I could muster, and I took a sip of my chai, glad Ellie would be calling any second.
“Thanks,” he said graciously, thinking I’d been impressed. “I’m in between bands right now. Creative differences, you know how that is. Not everyone gets the vision. Like I have some instrumental tracks I recorded left-handed. Some critics say the sound is amateur. What they don’t get is that it’s a reflection of society’s expectations.”
A little piece of my faith in humanity slipped away.
He clearly wanted to talk about himself, so I kept the questions going as I slipped my hand into the pocket of my jacket to rest on my phone, waiting for the merciful buzzing that meant I’d have an excuse to leave. “Do you write your own lyrics?”
Mark scoffed. “Of course. Here, check it out.” He pulled out a small leather notebook from his pocket and untied the leather strap, opening it in front of him. He cleared his throat and began to read. “Pain, it hurts. Aw, babe, it hurts. You left, and it hurt. The pain, it hurts. Aw, babe, come back, it hurts.”
My mouth had slipped open just enough to show my bewilderment, and he shuffled, leaning forward when he realized I was confused. He just had the wrong idea why.
“It’s better when I sing it.” He closed his eyes and started singing. Sort of. Really, it sounded like this cat my mom had when I was a kid, Olive, who ate a Christmas ornament and shredded her vocal chords. Sort of a ragged grumble, like he’d been run through a cheese grater.
That was Misguided Mark to a T.
I shrank back in my chair, cheeks on fire as everyone in the coffee shop turned their faces toward the sound.
My phone rang, and I whipped it out of my pocket to answer it. Mark didn’t stop singing.
“Hey, Ellie.” I tried to sound cheery.
“Oh, my God. What the hell is that noise? Are you being assaulted? Should I call 911?” She seemed genuinely concerned.
“I’m fine, what’s up?”
“He sounds like an animal. Like a drunk, Pet Cemetery zombie animal.”
“Oh, you need me to come home? Water leak?”
Mark finally stopped singing.
“Maybe he’s possessed,” Ellie said. “Do you have any holy water?”
My eyes found his as I nodded, holding up a finger. “Sure, I can be home in just a minute. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Glad I could help, Rose,” she said. “Tell him to lose your number. You know, maybe online dating isn’t the solution.”
“You might be right. See you in a few.” I hung up and put on my fake-ass smile. “God, I am so sorry, Mark, but I have to run. A pipe burst in my building, and it looks like my whole floor is flooded.” I stood and backed away, bumping into the table next to us. I whirled around. “Oh, God. Excuse me.”
“Man, that’s crazy,” he said as he stood too. “So, ah, can I call you?”
The plastic smile stretched wider as I course corrected and kept moving toward the door. “Sure. It’s really nice to meet you.”
He smiled. “Sure thing, Joan. Catch you later.”
I bolted out of the coffee shop, realizing too late that I’d forgotten my coffee and lemon bar. Embarrassed and starving, I resorted to a dreaded group text situation to get the girls to meet me at Genie’s.
All hands on deck. Only a cheeseburger and tots can save me.
Rose
I took a huge bite of my burger and immediately felt better. I moaned.
“Hungry, Rose?” Lily said with a brow up while she watched me eat like a hog.
“Don’t make fun of me,” I said around a wad of food.
“It was really bad, Lily,” Ellie said as she poked at her salad. “It was like somebody dumped a bucket of bolts into a garbage disposal.”
Lily made a face.
I swallowed and took a sip of my Dr. Pepper. “It was probably one of my more awkward public moments in life. I really had my hopes up about him too.”
Lily picked up her BLT. “Well, at least you made it out alive. Who’s on deck next?” She took a rude bite and hummed her approval.
I looked at her like she was nuts. “There has to be a better way. I can’t handle another shitty date with a weird-shit weirdo. I thought I could, but I can’t.”
“Aww, come on,” Lily said with a frown. “Third time’s a charm.”
“I don’t believe in luck.” I popped a tater tot into my mouth.
“Come on. Give it one more shot. Let’s up the standards, and no more guys with interesting jobs. The more boring, the better. And definitely message him some and get to know him before you agree to meet.”
I grabbed my burger and took another bite, avoiding answering. Lily was tenacious, I knew. I wondered if she’d give it up before I gave in. I weighed it out. I could either hear it from Lily fo
r the next week — at least — or I could go on one more date.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said when I’d swallowed. “I’ll go on one more date, but this is the last guy before I find another way to meet a guy, because this shit’s ridiculous. I’m deleting the app if this one doesn’t work out.”
She pouted. “Forever?”
I bobbed my head, eyes on the ceiling. “For anywhere from two to six months.”
That seemed to sate her. “Fair enough. Let’s have a look.” She held out a hand.
“You don’t get to mention it for minimum of two months, either. Deal?” My voice was heavy with warning.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine, deal. Now get out your phone and get to swiping.”
I chuckled as I took another bite and set my burger down, dusting off my hands before picking up my phone. I remembered SkateTreason again, and opened up his profile. “Hey, remember this guy?”
Ellie took my phone, and she and Lily bent their necks to look him over. “He’s cute,” Ellie said with a nod.
I snorted. “That’s obviously not an indicator that he’s actually interesting, if my other dates and like ninety percent of all profiles are any proof.”
“Oh, yeah,” Lily said as she looked over his profile. “You two have a lot in common. He’s a barista, which is basically a coffee bartender. You both skate. His profile is funny.” She passed the phone to me. “I approve. Message him.”
“Fine, bossy.” I typed out a message and set down my phone. “That’s it. Last one. Now, we wait.”
Lily raised a brow. “You sure you don’t want to find a couple more, just in case he doesn’t respond?”
“Yup.” I tossed another tot into my mouth and smiled.
BENCH PRESS
Patrick
AC/DC PLAYED OVER THE speakers in the gym as I rested between reps, watching West in the mirror with his jaw clenched. He pulled the barbell up to his shoulders, held it, and let it down as he exhaled. Then again, his neck straining before he set down the barbell and hung his hands on his hips, jerking his chin at me in the mirror.
“You’re up.”
