The Trouble With Before

by Portia Moore

  Hell, I’m not touching that statement with a ten-foot pole.

  “You’re right. You can do what you want,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Really? So you don’t care if I dance naked in front of other guys?” she asks angrily.

  “You just said it’s your body.”.

  “You’re a prick,” she hisses at me.

  Lisa giggles nervously. “Um, you guys are making me pretty uncomfortable right now.”

  “Okay, tell me, Lisa. If you’ve been dating a guy for almost a year, don’t you think it’s normal, with all of us about to approach thirty, that he wouldn’t stutter at calling you his girlfriend, that he wouldn’t freak out when you show him a ring in the jewelry store you happened to want earrings from . . . ?”

  I cover my face with my hands.

  “It’s like he wants to break up with me every single month. I’m starting to think he’s bipolar,” she continues.

  “You think I’m bipolar?” I ask, confused, laughing now at how ridiculous she sounds.

  “What is it then? I just don’t get it. There’s nothing wrong with me wanting to know where this is going. I’ve been sleeping with only you for the past twelve months. That’s longer than I’ve been exclusive with anyone else, so tell me if I should be screwing other people.”

  Lisa looks as though she’s trying not to laugh her head off.

  “What do you think, Lisa?” Hillary asks, shifting her body away from me and giving Lisa her full attention.

  I shake my head to tell Lisa not to say anything, and Hillary glares at me.

  “Um, I think that you guys should both be honest about what you want. Maybe it will make things clearer,” Lisa says, clearly ignoring my “don’t say anything” glare.

  Hillary whips back toward me. “Yes, that sounds like a fantastic idea. Where do you see us in a year?”

  All I want to do is eat some wings and have a few beers. Is that too much to ask? Maybe get sort of drunk and have sex before the night is over with. I take a swig of my beer, ignoring Lisa and Hillary staring daggers into me.

  “You see? This is what he does. Whenever I try to have a serious conversation with him about our future, he clams up and then makes me seem as if I’m crazy!” She throws her hand in the air as if she’s victorious. “Lauren got proposed to after a year, Aidan. A year!”

  “And here we go!” I say angrily. “I’m not Chris, and you’re not Lauren. Is that the only reason you’re pushing so hard, because you want to be married because Lauren is?”

  “No! How could you even say that? It’s because . . . because I love you, Aidan. God! How can you be so oblivious?”

  I look at her, stunned. She loves me? Where the hell did that come from?

  She’s never said that before. She tells me she’s crazy about me, and that I definitely believe, but love? I’ve never said that to anyone . . . I don’t even know what love is.

  She turns to Lisa. “See? I tell him I love him, and he sits there like he’s trying to figure out a hard math problem.” Hillary turns back toward me. “Give me the keys, and let me out.”

  I look at her and see her eyes are full of tears. I feel like a jerk and an idiot. “Hillary, I-I didn’t know . . .”

  “Let me out!” she shouts each syllable louder than the last.

  Other people in the bar are starting to look at us. I slide out of the booth, and she pushes past me.

  “Dinner’s on Aidan,” she says to Lisa before storming out of the restaurant.

  “Well, this has been really interesting,” Lisa mutters before drinking the rest of her Coke through the straw.

  BY THE TIME I catch Hillary, she’s almost at her car.

  “Don’t defend him!” she warns me, and I laugh.

  “I’m not. Aidan is an overgrown man-child who can act like a stupid boy sometimes,” I say.

  She smiles weakly. “Keep going.”

  “He’s just not used to dealing with feelings and emotions. I know he’s almost thirty, but he didn’t really come from a family where relationships were the greatest. He’s just scared,” I tell her sincerely.

  She bites her lip and rolls her eyes.

  “He means well,” I say meekly with a shrug as she gets in her car.

  “Yeah, and if I had a million dollars, I’d donate it all to charity,” she exaggerates. “Make sure to run up the tab really good.”

  I laugh at that, and she winks before pulling off.

  Shaking my head, I go back inside and slide into my seat at the table. “Good thing I drove, huh?”

  Aidan’s head is down. He looks confused, as if he has no idea what’s going on. “See? This is what I’m talking about. She’s never said she loved me before, then she storms out before I can even say anything.” He lets out a long, frustrated breath and throws his head back.

  I keep sipping my Coke.

  “Here you go. An order of wings and two orders of quesadillas.” The waitress sets down the food, and he snatches up the wings and starts to take his frustration out on them. “Anything else I can get for you guys?” The waitress stares longingly at Aidan.

  I can’t help but snicker. I know for a fact if Hillary was still here, the waitress would have disappeared into thin air.

  “We’re fine,” I tell her.

  She smiles at me, then lets her eyes linger on Aidan. He nods.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” she adds, touching his shoulder before leaving.

  He looks confused. “Hillary was right?”

  “Yeah, she’s into you,” I say before taking a bite of my quesadilla.

  He rolls his eyes. “She’s acting crazy, right?”

  “The waitress or your sort-of girlfriend who just told you she loved you and you said, ‘I didn’t know’?”

  “You’re siding with her?” he asks in disbelief.

  “I’m not siding with anyone, but to be with someone an entire year and think that she just kind of likes you seems a little odd since she’s so . . . passionate.” I shrug.

  He lets out a long sigh and leans back in his seat. “Have you been in love before?” His voice is even, but I can tell he’s nervous.

  “Yes, I think so,” I say quietly.

  “God, don’t say Mr. Scott,” he says, sounding disgusted.

  “I didn’t say him. You said him.” I pick at the last of my quesadilla.

  After a stretch of silence, as if trying to disassociate our conversation from the person mentioned, he asks, “How do you know you were?” His eyes lock on mine and for a moment it feels as if I’m falling from a building, my stomach is all wobbly and my skin is warm. I snatch my eyes from his and glue my sight to my plate.

  “It’s sort of like your grams described. Well, except for the itching part,” I joke, and he grins. “You’re crazy over them. You do things you wouldn’t do for just anyone. You think of them in almost every decision you make, and you’ll do anything to be with them . . . regardless of who it hurts. You want them to be happy even if it means sacrificing your own happiness . . . but that was an eighteen-year-old in love. I think if I fell in love now . . . it’d feel different, not as selfish, not as wild or idealistic. That’s why I convinced myself I was in love with Brett, I think.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” he says, leaning toward me. His grin is huge and makes me smile. His eyes are bright and remind me of when we were young and our biggest problem was if we could get a car to go to a party. “I had a crush on Lauren.”

  My eyes widen in disbelief. “Really?” I ask with a laugh.

  “Yeah, I mean, it wasn’t a big thing. Obviously she’s beautiful, but there’s something about her that I think makes guys see the best in themselves,” he says quietly, his cheeks red.

  “Chris would’ve killed you,” I say jokingly.

  He shrugs. “It was when she first got here and he was with Jenna, so it was harmless.” He chuckles. “Totally over it now. It’s like she’s my sis or something. But the way they look at each other, how he
is with her and how she is with him . . . I want that one day.” His tone is warm and he seems focused.

  There’s no reason why he can’t have that. Even rough around the edges, Aidan’s genuine and fiercely loyal, and looks-wise, he is a certifiable ten. Not only does Aidan have a beautiful face—well, beautiful isn’t the word because his features are so masculine—but he has broad, wide shoulders, a strong jaw, lips that look as though they could make you say anything, and eyes that try to steal your soul. It’s easy to believe Hillary convinced herself he loved her even if his actions said otherwise.

  I feel my skin heat up, and my stomach does flips, and I swallow hard. This is Aidan, not just a cute guy. Aidan can’t even commit to a girl he’s been with for a year. I am seriously tripping.

  “You don’t think it’s possible that Hillary could be that person?”

  “I-I guess I never really gave her a chance, to be honest,” he says, seeming lost in thought. He shakes his head. “It doesn’t scare you? To feel that way about another person?”

  I look at him, a little confused.

  “I mean, people usually let you down. Or if they don’t, the world intervenes and makes it all shitty. Even with Chris and Lauren, look at all the shit they’ve had to fight through . . .”

  “And I bet they’ve never thought about ever giving it up,” I say.

  He nods.

  “Well . . . we’re not getting any younger.” I chuckle.

  “To finding love . . . and not screwing it up.” I lift my glass to toast.

  His smile stretches for miles as he does the same. “To not screwing it up.”

  Aidan and I get home about an hour later. Grams has turned in. I drove since Aidan had three shots and a beer. He’s pretty good at holding his alcohol, but after the third shot, which the waitress juiced up to impress him, his eyes were glassy and he started to talk slower. After our optimistic conversation during dinner, I realized I have a lot to live for and preferred to make it home without any incidents.

  When we get home, Hillary’s car is still parked in the back. When I park, I give him the go-ahead to go talk to her, and I tell myself to hope for the best for them. That’s not usually something I have to do with my friends. I’ve always only ever wanted the best for Aidan and Chris, but I can’t shake the bittersweet feeling I got when Aidan walked toward her car to meet her.

  “You are clearly tired,” I tell myself as I head into the house and to my room.

  It’s a little past eight thirty, and my phone has died. Keeping it charged isn’t really important since not many people call me these days. Once it powers on, I’m surprised to see I have a missed call and text message.

  They’re both from Will.

  Willa is asking about you again. It’s probably time to talk about you seeing her.

  I read over the message several times before opening the keyboard to respond.

  When?

  My stomach sinks when I see three little bubbles flash across the screen. Then the phone rings, and I almost drop it before I answer.

  “Hi.” I sound choked out and strangled.

  “I wanted to wait until Gwen was back so we could talk to you together, but she’s probably going to be up there awhile,” he says, straight to the point. “Look, we both only want what’s best for Willa.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “So before . . . I just don’t want Willa to get attached to you if . . . are you ready to be . . . I don’t want Willa to get hurt.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her, Will. Please think more of me than that,” I almost beg.

  There’s silence on the other end.

  “I know you’d never intentionally hurt her,” he finally answers.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Whatever I say doesn’t matter. I gave you and Gwen custody, so it’s up to you to do what you think is best. I could tell you all day that I thought giving her to you was what was best for her, and that it wasn’t easy for me to do that, and that I was scared but now that I’m back, I would love to have a relationship with her, but ultimately, you get to decide it. So I don’t know what it is you want me to say.”

  There’s another length of silence.

  “I’m going to Chicago with Gwen. I was going to take Willa with me, but it’s a long drive for just a weekend . . .”

  “She can stay with me!” I say quickly

  “Where are you living? I know Aidan picked her up but . . .”

  “I’m at his house for now.”

  “Down the block?” he asks in disbelief.

  I don’t respond since he already knows the answer to that question. I can practically hear his frustration.

  “Okay. If Aidan could pick her up Friday after school, that would be great.”

  “Okay.”

  Realizing the conversation is over, I hang up and let out a deep breath. My chest isn’t as tight anymore, and I don’t have the nervous pit in my stomach that I did the last time he and I spoke about Willa coming to visit. I grab the unfinished storybook from out of the dresser and pull out my supplies.

  I want to have it done before she gets here.

  IF ANYONE HAD told me earlier I’d be apologizing to Hillary and asking her to stay the night, I would have thought they were high, but after my conversation with Lisa at dinner, I’m trying to look at things differently. Maybe I have had my head up my ass. Hillary’s here, and she has to be crazy to have sat in her car all this time.

  I knock on the window, and she wakes up a scowl.

  When she lets the window down, I say, “I’m really, really sorry.”

  She almost looks caught off guard by my apology. “Are you drunk?”

  “No, I’ve had a few, but they just helped me see clearer . . . can I get in?”

  She pops the lock on the car. I walk around and climb in on the passenger side. She glances at me, her face like stone.

  “The only question I have for you is if you love me,” she says bluntly.

  It catches me off guard, but I try to sound sincere and confident when I say, “I think I can.” Her face balls up in disbelief.

  “You think that you can love me. One day?” She laughs.

  I try to give her a smile that will make her forgive me. She shakes her head.

  “If that isn’t the most romantic thing I ever heard . . .” she says, her voice cold and angry. “I don’t want you to love me out of pity,” she spits at me angrily and I realize how bad what I said may sound. Shit!

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “That’s what it sounds like! ‘I can love you one day’? All of the time we’ve spent together hasn’t made you feel that way yet? What’s going to change? Let me guess—you’re going to open your heart? This isn’t a Disney movie!”

  Well, this isn’t how I imagined this conversation going.

  She sighs. “Maybe we aren’t meant for relationships.”

  Now I’m really confused.

  “At least with each other,” she replies.

  “Are you breaking up with me?” I ask. I’m usually the one who breaks up with people.

  “ . . . I don’t want to have to force someone to be with me, you know? I want someone who is so deeply, madly in love with me that being with me isn’t even an option. I was happier seeing other people. At least there were possibilities. I had fun!”

  “You’re saying I’m not fun?” I ask, surprised.

  “You used to be. We both were. Now I feel like you think I’m a psychotic stalker, and you’re like this grumpy old dude who I’m bothering. I don’t want to feel like that,” she says, her exasperation apparent.

  When I think about all the things I’ve done and how I’ve treated her, it’s a little exaggerated, but I can’t say that’s not an accurate description. “I never meant to make you feel like that. I’ve been kind of an asshole, I guess.”

  “I know you don’t mean to, but you have,” she mutters.

  “So you don’t want to see me again?” I ask a little co
nfused.

  “Of course you’ll see me again. Actually, I really like having sex with you and hope we can still do that when the need arises.” She giggles, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “So you’re saying, like, we just date? No strings?”

  “No strings, no titles. Let’s just go back to it being fun. If love is meant to happen, it will, and if not, we can be open to finding it with someone else without things being bad.” She shrugs.

  “O-okay, if that’s cool with you . . . I guess.”

  She brings her hand to my mouth, then climbs on my lap. “Don’t overthink it. You’re hotter with your mouth closed.”

  TODAY I WOKE up with a slight headache but definitely a smile. Nothing does that better than a night with Hillary. I told her I wasn’t weird about her staying a day or two if that’s what she wanted, but she decided to leave after we had sex. She joked about being able to enjoy her singleness again. I don’t know exactly how I feel about that, but I can’t say I don’t feel like a dog let off his leash. I haven’t been in this good a mood in a while. Hillary always puts me in the best or worst mood, but today, I feel as if I’m walking on clouds. I’ve finally got the Hillary I’ve been waiting for back, and I feel good.

  When I get up, I already smell bacon and eggs, and I know it’s going to be a great day. What I’m surprised by is seeing Lisa in the kitchen, wearing a big smile and setting down the food.

  “You’re cooking?” I ask, surprised.

  “I’m in a good mood, and you look like you’re in a good mood yourself,” she says, sitting at the table.

  I join her. “Well, you share your news first, my lady,” I tell her in my most chivalrous voice.

  “Will wants me to take Willa this weekend,” she says, her face lit up.

  “The whole weekend?”

  “Yeah, he’s going to Chris and Lauren’s and doesn’t want Willa to take the long ride since he’s only going to be there two days . . .”

  “That’s awesome, Leese.” I’m thrilled by how happy she looks delivering the news. Last time, she was like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “So if you could pick her up Friday after school, that’d be great,” she says in a pleading tone. Except it’s not needed. I’d do whatever necessary to get her and Willa’s relationship back on track. “So what about you? Did you and Hillary work things out?”