The Fourth Time Charm: A Friends to Lovers Romance

by Maya Hughes

  I’d suck it up and deal with the fallout of making it clear we were only friends, and I’d try to toe the line through the end of next season, but then all bets were off.

  Then he couldn’t lord my future over me, and I could finally tell her how I felt—if it wasn’t already too late.

  For three weeks, she’d been avoiding me. Somehow, instead of making it better, it made it a hell of a lot worse. We were about to spend the whole summer apart.

  I pulled up to the airport departure lane, my car one of many offloading their passengers.

  Marisa picked her bag up off the floor, double checked for her passport and wallet in the front pocket, and gave me a smile like she was psyching herself up for the first day of summer camp. The first smile in the three weeks since That MorningTM.

  She’d taken to sleeping on the back-breaking couch, until Keyton moved in a few of his things early, including a couch which hadn’t been designed during the Spanish Inquisition. After that, I hadn’t even had that as an excuse to get her back into my bed.

  “Call me when you land.”

  Wrapping her arms around her bag, she looked over at me. “I will.”

  Nervous excitement radiated off her. It was her first trip out of the country. We’d picked the bag up the day after her emergency appointment after the fire.

  “I can’t believe you’re going away for the whole summer.” A grip tightened around my heart. Her freshman year she’d been in New York had sucked. I’d missed her—a lot. But I’d had classes and a whole season to gear up for. All summer without her would suck. The gym and my summer classes would take up some time, but there would be no water balloon fights, road trips to the shore, riding carnival rides until we were about to puke, or hanging out in the backyard soaking up the sun.

  “Now you won’t have to worry about me bugging you during workouts or forcing you to go out for late-night ice cream runs.”

  I didn’t mind any of that one bit.

  “The house will be quiet without you.”

  “Berk and Keyton will be there.” She fiddled with the zipper on her bag. “Are you sure everyone’s cool with me living there? I don’t want to cramp everyone’s style with my lady parts.” She vaguely gestured to parts of her anatomy I’d been trying to keep my thoughts off for years now.

  “They’re hoping you’ll help us ward off unwanted female attention.”

  She snorted. “Half the women on campus would plow through me in a heartbeat for a chance at any of you guys.”

  “Good thing you’ve got strong shoulders.” I squeezed hers.

  Her laugh was full this time.

  “Plus, Berk’s hung up on his pen pal and has been keeping a low profile since they’ve started trading dirty letters. Keyton is…” I shrugged. “Keyton. Who the hell knows? You’re not cramping anyone’s style.”

  It also meant she could stay in our up-to-code house where she didn’t have to take on a random as a new roommate now that Liv was squarely in the shacked-up category with Ford.

  I had to subsidize her rent a little to make it work. I’d pay off the private loan once I got my signing bonus in the spring. The interest rate was ridiculous since my parents’ credit was shot and I barely had any, but it was for less than a year. The stretch would be worth it to have her close, no matter how much that killed me.

  She fiddled with her bag even more. “What if I hate it?”

  “You won’t. You’ve been looking forward to this since forever. All those paintings you’ve been forcing me to look at for years—you’ll finally get to see them in person. Gondola rides for days. Maybe learn to cook some Italian food.” I ducked my head trying to catch her eye.

  “I make a great spaghetti already.” She shot me a look.

  I fought against the shudder. Every bite of her food was taking your life into your own hands. “You’re right. But it’s always good to learn new techniques. Maybe you’ll up your game.”

  “Maybe.” Silence descended on the car.

  “Marisa—“

  “LJ—“

  We spoke at the same time. An uncomfortable chuckle followed by our gazes connecting.

  I opened my mouth.

  A knock on the window broke through the tension building in the car. I turned and glanced out at the cop.

  “Drop off only. You’ve been here too long already.” He walked on to the next car and did the same thing.

  “We should get you inside.” I popped the trunk and opened my door, climbing out and heading to the back of the car. “I’m glad you’ve finally gotten this trip. You should’ve gone ages ago.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I figured I’d get there eventually.”

  “I know, but…I wish it had been when you were supposed to go.”

  She dropped her hand onto my arm. “LJ, enough with guilt tripping yourself. Sometimes I swear you’re only friends with me out of obligation.” Her laugh was reedy and a little stilted.

  “Nah, it’s also because of your wonderful cooking skills.”

  Her glare was precise, but her lips twitched. “More like the fact that I’m the only one who’ll touch your dirty underwear.”

  “I never asked you to do my laundry.” And I hadn’t. But Marisa made it a Thursday night movie tradition to handle the folding, which I hated. Putting my clothes in the washer—sure. Them making it to the dryer before they got mildewy was debatable. Folding was an absolute no. She was probably the only reason I still had friends after freshman year when she’d come to campus and balked when she saw how long it had been since I’d last washed it all.

  “It was that or watch you try to Febreeze your way through another year. No one needed that.”

  “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.” I wrestled her bag out of my trunk, hefting it up and out and setting it onto the yellow no parking lines across the front of the drop off area.

  “Your clothes were a week from walking out the front door all on their own.”

  Marisa followed me and grabbed onto the handle of her bag. Her hand landed half on top of mine. The commotion of the airport was a background track.

  Eight weeks. We hadn’t been apart for that long since freshman year before she transferred. All those same crazy scenarios I’d run when she went to New York came roaring back. Would she be safe? What if she had the time of her life and never came back? What if she met some guy?

  Her gaze was filled with uncertainty, excitement, and fear.

  I wished I could go with her. I wanted to be her partner in crime, exploring Venice with side trips to Rome and train rides to Switzerland, Germany, and France.

  “Let’s go.” A call broke through the hustle and bustle of the crowds around us. “Kiss your girl and leave. You’re already over the time limit.” The cop blew his whistle and went back to hounding people.

  Marisa stared at the center of my chest before pulling the bag from my grasp. Her arms wrapped around me for a way-too-short hug. “See you, L. Have a great summer.”

  She shot off with the bag with one glance over her shoulder and a quick wave before disappearing through the glass doors and off to her check in line.

  I jumped at the presence and voice in my left ear. “She’s gone, Romeo. Now move your damn car.”

  Fumbling for my keys, I hopped back into my car and joined the rest of the people leaving departures.

  What if she met a smooth Italian guy and decided she was going to stay? What if she ran off to Paris with someone from her internship for a romantic vacation and decided to elope? What if she came back and I’d lost my shot?

  TO: footballsfinest11@gmail.com

  FROM: I_love_ripley_foreva@gmail.com

  SUBJECT: Guess what?

  Hi LJ,

  I’m finally here!!! And guess what? I got bumped up to business class! Beat you to it. In a year, you’ll probably be flying private. They handed out cool towels and I had my first glass of champagne. The real deal, not sparkling wine. The poor guy beside me wasn’t nearly as fun to joke around with as
you are. I hope you’re having fun. I saw the pool party pics. Don’t have too much fun without me.

  My internship starts on Monday. It gives me just enough time to find a place to eat near the apartment I’m living in. Sending pics of the apartment! Want to video chat later?

  TO: I_love_ripley_foreva@gmail.com

  FROM: footballsfinest11@gmail.com

  SUBJECT: Re: Guess what?

  Hey Marisa, the apartment looks great! Business class!! You know you suck, right? The pool party was a last minute thing. It wasn’t too bad, until Keyton had to drag Chris Farrell out of the deep end. Chris almost flunked out and got cut from the team and was drowning his sorrows in half a keg of beer. Other than that, things are quiet. My dad has his six-month doctor’s visit in August. We’re all holding our breath until then, but I’m sure that Magic Marisa bone marrow will keep on working. I’m good to video chat whenever.

  TO: footballsfinest11@gmail.com

  FROM: I_love_ripley_foreva@gmail.com

  SUBJECT: Re: Re: Guess what?

  Hi LJ,

  Of course, Chris ended up almost drowning. Sucks he got cut.

  You didn’t have to repaint my room, but I love the color. The food situation is precarious. I didn’t think about how being in the museum would mean being so close to the tourist spots with insane restaurant prices. One thing I’ll say is the bread and cheese are delicious—throw some ham on it and I’m good to go. A sandwich summer spectacular for me.

  The house party looked like fun. Christmas in July was a great theme! Were you pretending to be Santa or something? There was a lot of lap sitting, LOL!

  I hope your dad’s visit goes well. Fingers and toes crossed. Video chat soon?

  TO: I_love_ripley_foreva@gmail.com

  FROM: footballsfinest11@gmail.com

  SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Guess what?

  Hey Marisa,

  Santa, haha. Good one. No Santa sessions. Just everyone trying to crowd into the pic. Is the guy you went to lunch with from your program? Looked like you two were having fun at the restaurant. Glad you’re finally getting some hot food.

  The date keeps changing for the doctor’s visit. With our luck it’ll end up being when you land. If it is, I’ll see if Liv can pick you up.

  TO: footballsfinest11@gmail.com

  FROM: I_love_ripley_foreva@gmail.com

  SUBJECT: Time zones suck!

  Hi LJ,

  Don’t worry about it. I can always take a taxi. I missed your last video call. Time differences are a thing. The meal was awesome. Pasta tastes so different here. Maybe because it’s fresh. Henri is in my internship program. He’s French and also speaks Italian. It’s made getting around a lot easier, hanging out with him.

  I can’t believe you had a Nerf Battle without me! Who was the new girl? You haven’t replaced me already, have you?

  TO: I_love_ripley_foreva@gmail.com

  FROM: footballsfinest11@gmail.com

  SUBJECT: Re: Time zones suck!

  Hey Marisa,

  Looks like you’re hanging out a lot. Glad he’s helping you get around. I talked to Liv. She’s good to cover your pick up, if the doctor’s visit runs late. Reece finished training camp last week, so he and Nix stopped by for one last game. The new girl is Elle’s roommate, Jules. She’s nice and lives across the street. She made some of the best brownies I’ve ever had in my life. She keeps giving us her baking experiments and we’re all more than happy to be guinea pigs.

  TO: footballsfinest11@gmail.com

  FROM: I_love_ripley_foreva@gmail.com

  SUBJECT: I totally touched it!

  LJ, Wow! A baker and right across the street. That’s super close and convenient. She seems nice. Really cute too. You won’t have to worry about satisfying that sweet tooth with her around.

  And don’t worry about the airport. It’s fine. Seriously! I can get to the house on my own. How is this summer almost over? I’m going to be sad to leave. This had been the best summer. I got to touch a Picasso! Well, not with my bare hands. They were moving it and I slapped on my nitrile gloves and pitched in. It was surreal.

  TO: footballsfinest11@gmail.com

  FROM: I_love_ripley_foreva@gmail.com

  SUBJECT: Hello???

  LJ, how are things going?

  TO: I_love_ripley_foreva@gmail.com

  FROM: footballsfinest11@gmail.com

  SUBJECT: Re: Hello???

  Hey Marisa, it sounds like you’re having a blast. Sorry it took me so long to reply. Summer workouts are kicking my ass and I picked up two summer classes to lighten my load during the semester. Both had finals at the same time. I fell asleep most nights at my desk and my neck is killing me.

  TO: footballsfinest11@gmail.com

  FROM: I_love_ripley_foreva@gmail.com

  SUBJECT: Whenever you get to this…

  Hi LJ, no problem. I figured you were busy. I’m sure Jules can give you something to help with the pain or any of the other people stopping by the house. Seems like things are pretty busy there. Lots of hanging out. I didn’t know you were taking summer classes. I guess we don’t have to tell each other everything, right?

  I can’t believe my flight lands in a day and a half. I feel like we were just saying bye at the airport.

  TO: I_love_ripley_foreva@gmail.com

  FROM: footballsfinest11@gmail.com

  SUBJECT: Re: Whenever you get to this…

  Hey Marisa, the summer flew by. I’ll see you when you get here. Have a safe trip!

  7

  Marisa

  AUGUST

  Everyone around me stood up the second the glowing seatbelt sign flicked off. From my window seat, I was shielded from the overhead bin tug-of-war and aisle jockeying going on. Apparently, unlike everyone else, I wasn’t chomping at the bit to step in the Philadelphia International Airport concourse.

  They probably had flight connections to make or family and friends waiting for them at baggage claim. I’d been dreading coming back since LJ’s emails dropped off. For the first week every email or text had gotten a same day reply—sometimes same hour. And then the gaps got bigger. A full day, then two days, and once, a whole week.

  A sign of things to come. I’d better get used to it, right? After nearly fifteen years of seeing, talking, or texting each other daily, even when I was in New York, we had nine months left before we went our different ways.

  Before I’d left, Matteo, the museum director, had dropped more than a few hints about a fellowship in museum curation they ran at the Guggenheim. It would mean two years in Venice while working on my master’s. I’d told him to let me know when the application period opened.

  The people in the aisle moved toward the front of the plane. Jammed together and resting carry-on bags on the tops of the seats, they ambled past, banging into each row.

  Maybe it was an omen that I hadn’t gotten the bump up to business class on the way back. The flight in had been perfection: sunny skies when I arrived in Venice, and an easy transfer arranged by the business class lounge in the arrivals terminal.

  Raindrops streaked down the window beside me. Cloudy skies were letting me know exactly what was in store for me on my return. Was LJ going to make it? Should I take a taxi? Was Liv going to show up?

  A tap on my shoulder jolted me in my seat. “Are you okay?” The flight attendant peered down at me. The last person from my section in the back of the plane disappeared down the aisle past the bulkhead.

  “Sorry.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid out of my seat. I grabbed my bag from the overhead bin and thanked the flight attendants standing at the doors as I stepped onto the gangway. There was no one in front of me and only the flight attendants behind me waiting for the final passenger to disembark.

  Senior year, here I come. The summer had been an escape I hadn’t realized I’d needed. Other than a couple calls from my mom and dodged emails from Ron, it had been what I’d always imagined it would be like after I graduated. Spending time in the museum. Sightseeing. Train rides. Hol
ding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa. But there had been a piece missing.

  I didn’t want to think about that piece. One I’d seen in social media pics surrounded by women fawning all over him. One I’d be rooming with for the next nine months.

  It was a long walk through the concourse to immigration. I waited at the baggage carousel. And waited. And waited. As if my return weren’t cursed enough already, my bag never turned up. Instead, I spent twenty minutes filling out the forms to have it delivered to me, if it was located. IF!

  All the possessions I had were in that bag and my carry-on. When the check from the insurance arrived, I’d set most of it aside for this year. With my financial aid, I’d be able to pay for my last semester on my own or I could sit through one last semester of bullshit dinners with Ron and have a chunk of change to start my new adult life. Either way, I didn’t have cash to spare buying new clothes again.

  I headed toward the exit signs. After the final immigration check, I turned my phone on.

  Messages rolled in. Every cell connection I’d made while flying over the Atlantic welcomed me to their country before the final one popped up for the US.

  LJ: Liv should be on her way. We’re at the doctor’s office now.

  Liv: Did you land yet?

  Liv: The announcement board thing said you landed.

  Liv: It says everyone has arrived. Are you here? Did you miss your plane?

  Liv: Ford’s here with me. He’ll be easier to spot than me.

  Liv: We’re by the Terminal C doors.

  I smiled, looking up from my phone. Even though I’d said I’d get back on my own, knowing Liv was willing to battle the airport traffic to come get me didn’t suck at all.

  She stood on the metal seats just inside the sliding doors leading to the humid August evening air, which flooded into the domestic baggage claim area with each exit.