Maybe Someday

by Colleen Hoover

  wasn’t in there.”

  I glance to the bathroom, then look back at Warren, wondering if I should even lie about it. All we did was fall asleep. “I know. She was in here.”

  He holds his stern expression. “All night?”

  I nod casually. “We were working on lyrics. I guess we fell asleep.”

  He’s acting strange. If I didn’t know him better, I’d think he was jealous. Wait. I do know him better. He is jealous.

  “Does this bother you, Warren?”

  He shrugs and signs back. “Yeah. A little.”

  “Why? You spend almost every night in Bridgette’s bed.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s not that.”

  “What is it, then?”

  He breaks his gaze, and I can see the discomfort cross his face before he exhales. He makes the sign that indicates Maggie’s name. He brings his eyes back to mine. “You can’t do this, Ridge. You made this choice for yourself years ago, and I tried to tell you then what I thought about it. But you’re in it now, and if I have to be the annoying friend to remind you of that, so be it.”

  I wince, because it kind of pisses me off how he’s referring to my and Maggie’s relationship. “Don’t refer to my relationship with Maggie as being ‘in it’ ever again.”

  His expression grows apologetic. “You know what I mean, Ridge.”

  I stand and walk toward him. “How long have we been best friends?”

  He shrugs. “That’s all I am to you? A best friend? Ridge, I thought we were so much more than that.” He smirks as if he’s trying to be funny, but I don’t laugh. When he sees how much his remarks have bothered me, his expression quickly sobers. “Ten years.”

  “Ten. Ten years. You know me better than that, Warren.”

  He nods, but his face is still full of doubt.

  “Good-bye,” I sign. “Shut the door on your way out.” I turn and walk back to my bed, and when I face the door again, he’s gone.

  Chapter Eight

  Sydney

  Why am I so pissed? We didn’t do anything.

  Did we?

  I can’t even tell what the hell happened last night before we fell asleep. Technically, it wasn’t anything, but then again, it was, which is probably why I’m so pissed, because I’m so freaking confused.

  First he doesn’t tell me about Hunter for two solid weeks. Then he fails to mention that he’s deaf, although I really have no right to be upset about that. That’s not something I should feel obligated to have been told.

  But Maggie?

  Girlfriend?

  How could he fail to mention in the three weeks I’ve been talking to him that he has a girlfriend?

  He’s just like Hunter. He has a dick and two balls and no heart, and that makes him Hunter’s twin. I should probably just start calling him Hunter. I should just call them all Hunter. From here on out, all men shall be referred to as Hunter.

  My father should be thanking the high heavens that I’m not in law school, because I am by far the absolute worst judge of character who has ever walked the planet.

  Ridge: False alarm. It was just Warren. Sorry about that.

  Me: SCREW. YOU.

  Ridge: ???

  Me: Don’t even.

  A few seconds pass with me staring at my silent phone, and then a knock comes from the bathroom. Ridge swings the door open and enters my room, holding his hands with his palms up in the air as if he has no idea why I’m upset. I laugh, but it isn’t a happy laugh at all.

  Me: This conversation will require a laptop. I have a lot to say.

  I open my computer as he makes his way back to his room. I give him a minute to log on, then I open our chat.

  Ridge: Can you please explain why you’re so pissed?

  Me: Hmm. Let me count the ways. (1) You have a girlfriend. (2) You have a girlfriend. (3) Why, if you have a girlfriend, was I even in your BEDROOM? (4) You have a girlfriend!

  Ridge: I have a girlfriend. Yes. And you were in my room because we agreed to work on lyrics together. I don’t recall anything happening between us last night to warrant this reaction from you. Or am I mistaken?

  Me: Ridge, it’s been three weeks! I’ve known you for three weeks now, and you’ve never ONCE mentioned that you have a girlfriend. And speaking of Maggie, does she even know I moved in?

  Ridge: Yes. I tell her everything. Look, it wasn’t an intentional omission, I swear. You and I have just never had a conversation where she came up.

  Me: Okay, I’ll let it go that you failed to mention her, but I’m not about to let everything else slide.

  Ridge: And this is where I’m confused, because I’m not clear on what you think we did.

  Me: You’re such a guy.

  Ridge: Ouch? I guess.

  Me: Can you honestly say that your reaction to the possibility of her being at your door earlier was a normal, innocent reaction? You were freaking out that she would see me with you, which means you were doing something you wouldn’t want her to see. I know all we did was fall asleep, but what about the WAY we fell asleep? Do you think she would have been okay with the fact that you had your arms around me all night and your face was practically glued to my chest? And not only that, but what about the fact that I sat between your legs the other night? Would she have smiled and kissed you hello if she had walked in right then? I doubt it. I’m fairly certain that would have ended with me being punched.

  Ugh! Why is this upsetting me so much? I bang my head lightly against the headboard out of frustration.

  Moments later, Ridge appears in the doorway between our bathroom and my bedroom. He’s chewing on the corner of his bottom lip. His features are a lot calmer than when he was in here just a few minutes ago. He walks slowly into my room, then sits on the edge of my bed with his laptop on his knees.

  Ridge: I’m sorry.

  Me: Yeah. Good. Whatever. Go away.

  Ridge: Really, Sydney. I haven’t been looking at it like that at all. The last thing I want is for things to be weird between us. I like you. I have fun with you. But if for one second I led you to believe that something was going to happen between us, I am so, so sorry.

  I sigh and attempt to blink the tears away.

  Me: I’m not upset because I thought something was going to happen between us, Ridge. I don’t WANT anything to happen between us. I haven’t even been single for a whole week yet. I’m upset because I feel like there was a moment, or maybe two, when—as much as neither of us wants to cross that line—we almost did. And you can deal with your actions on your own, but the fact that I was unaware that you had a girlfriend was really unfair to me. I feel like—

  I lean my head back against the headboard and squeeze my eyes shut, long enough to force back the tears once more.

  Ridge: You feel like what?

  Me: I feel like you almost made me a Tori. I absolutely would have kissed you last night, and the fact that I didn’t know you were involved with someone would have made me a Tori. I don’t want to be a Tori, Ridge. I can’t tell you how much their betrayal hurts me, and I will never, ever do that to another girl. So that’s why I’m upset. I don’t even know Maggie, yet you made me feel like I’ve already betrayed her. And as innocent as you may be, I’m blaming you for that one.

  Ridge finishes reading my message, then calmly lies back on the bed. He brings his palms to his forehead and inhales a deep breath. We both remain still as we think about the situation. After several quiet minutes, he sits back up.

  Ridge: I don’t even know what to say right now other than I’m sorry. You’re right. Even though I thought you knew about Maggie, I can absolutely see what you’re saying. But I also need you to know that I would never do something like that to her. Granted, what happened between us last night is not something I would ever want Maggie to see, but that’s mostly because Maggie doesn’t understand the process of writing music. It’s a very intimate thing, and because I can’t hear, I do have to use my hands or my ears to understand things that come natura
lly to others. That’s all it was. I wasn’t trying to cause anything to happen between us. I was just curious. I was intrigued. And I was wrong.

  Me: I understand. I never thought for a second that your intentions weren’t genuine when you asked me to sing for you. Everything just happened so fast earlier, and I was still trying to recover from the fact that I woke up in your bed and the lights were flickering. Then you go and flash the word “girlfriend” in my face. It’s a lot to process. And I believe you when you say you thought I knew about her.

  Ridge: Thank you.

  Me: Just promise me one thing. Promise me you will never be a Hunter, and I will never, ever be a Tori.

  Ridge: I promise. And that’s impossible, because we’re so much more talented than they are.

  He glances up and smiles his smiley smile at me, which makes me automatically smile in return.

  Me: Now, get out of here. I’m going back to sleep, because someone spent the whole night drooling on my boobs and snoring way too loud.

  Ridge laughs, but before he leaves, he messages me one last time.

  Ridge: I’m excited for you to meet her. I really think you’ll like her.

  He closes his laptop, stands, and walks back to his room.

  I close my laptop and pull the covers over my head.

  I hate that my heart is wishing so bad that he didn’t have a girlfriend.

  • • •

  “No, she already moved in,” Bridgette says. Her cell phone is propped up on her shoulder, and from the sound of it, she just broke the news to her sister that I’ve taken the empty bedroom. Bridgette completely ignores that I’m even in the same room with her and continues talking about me.

  I know the fact that I haven’t clarified that I’m not deaf is a little mean, but who is she to assume I can’t read lips?

  “I don’t know; she’s a friend of Ridge’s. I should have ignored him when he asked if I would go—in the rain, mind you—and bring her up to the apartment. Apparently, her boyfriend dumped her, and she had nowhere else to go.”

  She pulls a seat out at the bar and sits with her back facing me. She laughs at something the person on the other end of the line says. “Tell me about it. He seems to enjoy taking in strays, doesn’t he?”

  I grip the remote in my hand and hold it tightly in an attempt to keep from hurling it at the back of her head.

  “I told you not to ask about Warren,” she says with a sigh. “You know he irritates the hell out of me, but I just . . . dammit, I just can’t stay away.”

  Wait. Did I just hear that correctly? Might Bridgette have . . . feelings?

  She’s lucky I like Warren, or the remote would be greeting her pretty little head right now. She’s also lucky someone is knocking at the door loudly enough to distract me from hurting her.

  Bridgette stands up and turns to face me, pointing at the front door. “SOMEONE’S . . . AT . . . THE . . . DOOR!” Rather than answer it, she walks to her bedroom and closes her door.

  So hospitable, that one.

  I stand and make my way to the front door, knowing it’s more than likely Maggie. I place my hand on the doorknob and inhale a steady breath.

  Here we go.

  I open the door, and standing in front of me is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her hair is straight and jet-black, and it falls around two naturally tanned shoulders. Her face is smiling. Her whole, entire face is beaming. She’s nothing but a face full of beautiful white teeth, and they’re smiling at me, and it’s making me smile back, even though I really don’t want to.

  I was really hoping she was ugly. I don’t know why.

  “Sydney?” she says. It’s just one word, but I can tell by her voice that she’s deaf, like Ridge. But, unlike Ridge, she speaks. And she enunciates really well.

  “You must be the girlfriend!” I say with feigned excitement. Is it feigned? Maybe not. Her entire demeanor is making me feel sunny and happy, and maybe I am a tiny bit excited to meet her?

  Weird.

  She steps forward and gives me a hug. I close the door behind us, and she slips off her shoes and heads to the refrigerator.

  “Ridge has told me a lot about you,” she says as she pops open a soda, then walks to the cabinet for a glass. “I think it’s great that you’re helping him through his writer’s block. Poor guy has been stressing for months now.” She fills her cup with ice and soda. “So how are you fitting in? I see you’ve survived Bridgette. And Warren has to be a pain in the ass.” She looks at me expectantly, but I’m still loving the fact that she’s so . . . Pleasant? Likable? Cheerful?

  I smile back at her and lean against the counter. I’m trying to figure out exactly how to respond to her. She’s speaking to me as if she can hear me, so I reply the same way.

  “I like it,” I say. “I’ve never lived with this many people before, so it’s taking some getting used to.”

  She smiles and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear.

  Ugh. Even her ears are pretty.

  “Good,” she says. “Ridge told me about your shitty birthday last weekend and how he took you out for cake, but it didn’t make up for you never having the chance to celebrate.”

  I have to be honest. It bothers me that he told her he took me out for cake. It bothers me, because maybe he’s right and he does tell her everything. And it also bothers me because he seems to tell me nothing. Not that I’ve earned that right from him.

  God, I hate feelings. Or I hate my conscience. The two are constantly at war, and I’m not sure which one I’d rather turn off.

  “So,” she says, “we’re going out tonight to celebrate.”

  I pause. “We?”

  She nods. “Yeah. Me, you, Ridge, Warren, if he’s not busy. We can invite Bridgette, but that’s laughable.” She walks past me toward Ridge’s bedroom, then turns to face me again. “Can you be ready in an hour?”

  “Um.” I shrug. “Okay.”

  She opens Ridge’s bedroom door and slips inside. I stand frozen, listening. Why am I listening?

  I hear Maggie giggling behind the closed door, and it makes me wince.

  Oh, yay. This should be fun.

  Ridge

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in tonight?”

  Maggie shakes her head. “That poor girl needs to have some fun, with the week she’s had. And I’ve been so overwhelmed with my internship and the T word. I need a night out.” She leans forward and kisses me on the chin. “Do you want to get a cab so you can drink, or do you want to drive?”

  She knows I won’t drink around her. I don’t know why she always tries her reverse psychology on me. “Nice try,” I sign. “I’ll drive.”

  She laughs. “I have to change and get ready. We’re leaving in an hour.” She tries to slide off me, but I grip her waist and roll her onto her back. I know for a fact that it never takes her more than half an hour to get ready. That leaves a good thirty minutes.

  “Allow me to help you out of your clothes, then.” I pull her shirt off over her head, and my eyes drop to the very thin, intricately laced bra she has on. I grin. “Is this new?”

  She nods and smiles her sexy smile. “I bought it for you. Front clasp, just how you like it.”

  I pinch the clasp and undo it. “Thank you. I can’t wait to try it on.”

  She laughs and slaps my arm. I take off her bra, then lower myself on top of her and drop my mouth to hers.

  I spend the next half hour reminding myself how much I’ve missed her. I remind myself how much I love her. I remind myself how good it feels when we’re together. I keep reminding myself over and over, because for the past week, it felt as if I was starting to forget.

  • • •

  Me: Be ready in thirty minutes. We’re going out.

  Warren: I don’t want to go, have an early shift tomorrow.

  No. He has to go. I can’t go out with Maggie and Sydney by myself.

  Me: No, you’re going. Be ready in thirty minutes.

&
nbsp; Warren: No, I’m not. Have fun.

  Me: You’re going. 30.

  Warren: Not going.

  Me: Going.