by Becky Monson
My phone chimes, telling me I have a text.
Want to meet up for coffee?
It’s from Ian. I haven’t heard from him since the last lunch we had together. I quickly text back.
Sure, when?
My phone vibrates almost immediately.
Tonight? Around 8?
I text back a yes, and he sends me an address.
“Who was that?” Gram asks.
“Ian. We’re having coffee tonight.” I smile as I think about seeing him again.
“Well, good for you. Getting yourself back out there.” She smiles, nodding her head only once.
“Okay, Gram, don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s just coffee.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, yes, of course, dear. It’s just coffee. Sorry to jump to conclusions.” She patronizes me with her tone.
“Do you know,” she puts a finger up to her chin, “that reminds me. Yesterday on The Young and the Restless, Jessica declared her feelings for Ian.”
“No way,” I say, totally interested. I didn’t get a chance to watch yesterday’s episode.
Gram fills me in since I most likely won’t have a chance to catch up. The fact that I watch a soap opera with my grandma is probably not normal, but I love it.
“Oh, crap,” I say when I look at my phone and see the time. “I better get going. We’re short a server today, so we need to step it up. We lost another one to the bright lights of Broadway.” I shake my head, feigning shame.
“Such a pity, someone following their dreams.” She winks at me.
“Indeed.” I wink back. I pick up the box of things to donate. “Gram, are you sure you don’t want me to leave The Bridge Club Girls here so you can share it with your friends?”
She bats a hand at me. “Oh, stop. Just get out of here.” She gives me a reproving look.
I give her my best sarcastic smile before I walk out of the room.
CHAPTER 12
University of Connecticut, Sophomore Year, Fall
“Thank you,” Ian said, leaning in and whispering across the table to me. The library was unsurprisingly cold, and I was annoyed with myself for, once again, forgetting my sweatshirt. My thin, moss-green tee shirt and black mid-thigh shorts were not doing much to protect me from the cold. I should have known better by now and layered.
“No problem,” I whispered back. “You’re better off without her anyway,” I said, folding my arms across myself and rubbing them with my hands to try to create some friction, anything to feel warm. It’s like a meat locker in here. I swear they do it on purpose to keep us awake.
“Yeah, well,” he looked off into the distance, his face contemplative. “You’re better off, too,” he said, turning his face back to mine.
“I think we are both better off having Jenna Anderson out of our lives,” I said, still rubbing my arms. Ian nodded in agreement.
It was going to be weird having to get used to a new roommate. I’d decided Jenna and I could no longer live together. I had to kick her to the curb. She’d broken my best friend’s heart, after all. Plus, she stole my clothes. Particularly my underwear. Which was weird, and also creepy. My new roommate, Amy, seemed pretty benign. At least she didn’t give off an underwear-stealing vibe, but time would tell.
“You cold?” he asked, eyeing my arm rubbing. Without prodding further, he stood up and walked over to my side of the table. He pulled a chair up close to mine and pulled me into him.
Jenna was an idiot. How could she have let this guy go? He was intuitive, smart, funny . . . so many things going for him. And he was my best friend. Probably the closest friend I’d ever had in my entire life.
“Brandon coming?” he asked me as he held me close.
“Yeah,” I said, thinking that if I were dating anyone else and he caught me and Ian sitting like this in the library, he probably wouldn’t take it so well. But Brandon was used to Ian and me. He never seemed to care or get jealous of our friendship. It was one of the things that I appreciated about him. Maybe even loved. The jury was still out, but I suspected I was headed that way.
“It’s seriously so cold in here,” I complained. Ian still had his arms around me, but it was only barely helping. There was a time when this gesture would have made my heart race and my skin heat, but since we’ve settled into our friend zone, the effect died down. There are remnants there. I won’t lie. But it’s not enough to keep me warm.
Ian’s hand moved down to my side, and with a light touch, he tickled me.
“Stop it,” I demanded, but in hushed, library-appropriate tones.
“What?” He feigned innocence, but I could see something devilish in his eyes.
He sat still for a moment, and I figured the temptation had passed.
I was wrong.
Next thing I knew, he was tickling me all over, relentlessly. I tried to keep the laughter in but was unable to stifle it completely.
“SHHHHH!” One of the librarians working nearby reprimanded us with a stern look.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. Ian echoed.
“You idiot,” I said, punching him in the arm.
“You’re warm now though, aren’t you?” He gave me a double eyebrow raise.
“Not really. I’m mostly embarrassed.” I whacked him in the gut with the back of my hand, giving a sheepish grin to the librarian when I noticed that she saw me do it. I did take note that Ian’s gut was not a gut at all, but basically a stone-hard brick that could be felt even through the white graphic tee shirt he was wearing. Not like I had never noticed before. I suppose I had forgotten since Brandon’s gut was, well, like a gut.
The librarian stepped away from her perch, thank goodness, and we went back to studying, or whatever Ian was doing. I had no idea why he was even here, except to pester me. He didn’t even have his laptop. Just a book open to something random.
I rubbed my arms again. I was going to have to find an alternative heat source.
“Still cold?” A mischievous grin took over his face.
“No,” I lied.
“Liar,” he said, and before I could stop him, his hands were all over me, tickling me on my sides and under my arms.
I was unable to hold it in at all this time. I might even have screamed. The fact that I was in the library was a minor consideration in the back of my mind. Ian and I were in our little cocoon we often went to, and the main thing on my brain at that moment was to retaliate. He was relentless, and it took me a minute to find a breath so I could get him back, but once I found it, I took it and ran. I knew exactly where Ian was ticklish, and I went right for it. I reached for his neck and tickled him behind the ear, and he flinched long enough for me to get him on his sides.
That’s when it all got a little crazy. It turned from fun tickling into a full-blown tickling fight, and it wasn’t until Ian’s chair fell back with him in it, making a loud thud when it hit the floor, that I jerked out of retaliation mode and back into reality.
Of course, along with reality, it also dawned on me that the librarian had come back and was standing not far behind the fallen chair. My eyes went wide, and I threw out a “sorry” while I tried to help Ian right himself. Ian was laughing, so apparently not sorry at all.
“Please gather your things and leave,” the librarian said, a look of fierce PMS on her face.
“Really?” Ian protested. I did my best to say “shut up” with my eyes and then turned toward the librarian. Taking notice that her nametag said Karen, I gave her my best please-forgive-me smile.
“I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.” I said. Karen the librarian’s face didn’t budge.
“You’re right, it won’t. Not tonight at least,” she said, a smug smile on her face. “Please gather your things and leave,” she repeated.
I could see Ian beginning to protest, but I stopped him with a shake of my head. We started grabbing our stuff. Well, Ian didn’t have anything, so I packed all of my stuff in my bag, giving Ian a death stare.
“You’re mad?” Ia
n asked, as we walked toward the steps that exited the library.
I didn’t say anything. I just kept my head forward as I walked down the steps of the library out into the night air, which under normal circumstances would have felt nice compared to the library. But my face was heated from embarrassment, so it just felt warm.
Ian picked up his pace so he could get ahead of me and turn around to face me. He grabbed my shoulders.
“Bridge, you can’t be mad,” he said, trying to meet my eyes.
“I’m not mad.” I looked up at him, keeping my face serious. “I’m glad we got kicked out.”
“You are?” he asked, scrunching his face, confused.
“Yes. Because I wouldn’t be able to do this if we were in there.”
Before it could register on his face, I dropped my school bag on the ground and pounced on him like a tiger on its prey. Tickling with no mercy, I knew I could only get in a few good moves before he would strike back. He was stronger than me, after all.
I made the mistake of relenting, just slightly, and he took full advantage of it. Grabbing me, he pushed me toward the grassy area only a foot or so away from us. We were both laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe. I was able to get away from his grasp for a moment, and I tried to take off running, but he was too fast. He grabbed me and tackled me to the ground. I fought back, kicking and laughing, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from pinning me under him. He was leaning over me and had both of my wrists pinned above my head, my legs locked underneath his. He was a master, probably from practice with his older brother. My sister and I only got into fights that were more like cats—scratching and screaming in a rage, most likely over clothes or makeup.
“You moron,” I said through heavy breaths while I tried to figure out my next plan of attack. “How’re you supposed to get me now?” I questioned him, motioning with my head to our hands intertwined above my head.
“You underestimate me.” His eyebrows raised once, quickly.
Oh, crap.
Before I could gather enough strength to push him off with my feet, his chin was on my neck, tickling with his shadow of a beard, and this was worse torture than any of the other ways he had tried to tickle me. I was laughing so hard my sides hurt and my face ached.
“Okay!” I screamed when I couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay, you win.”
He lifted his face so it was inches away from mine. “That was too easy,” he said, and I held back wanting to headbutt him, annoyed that he thought the task was so simple. I thought I put up a good fight.
“Get off me,” I said, trying to wriggle my legs out from underneath him. But he wasn’t budging.
I looked into his eyes, pleading with him to move. Our breathing was rapid from all the exertion. He stared at me and I stared back. Then the victorious smile that was on his face slowly morphed into something more serious. My breath hitched in my chest as the air immediately, and without warning, changed between us. Our eyes were locked, and slowly he lowered his face toward mine. My heart raced faster and faster.
His face moved even closer to mine, our eyes still locked. It wasn’t like we’d never been in this position before. Ian and I were known to wrestle and play-fight more often than not. But this time there was something different. My brain was screaming in my head for him to stop, but for some reason, I didn’t want to. In that moment, I wanted it.
“What are you two freaks doing?”
“Brandon!” I said, pushing Ian off me, the trance ending immediately.
“Hey, man,” Ian said, his butt on the grass, leaning back on his hands. I looked at him, searching his face, and he locked eyes with me, his annoyance apparent on his face. We both started to move to standing, trying to find our balance.
I felt something along the lines of nervousness but also mixed with confusion. What had just transpired between Ian and me? And what did Brandon see?
“Why aren’t you in the library?” Brandon asked as I walked toward him.
“This jackass got me kicked out,” I said, pointing a thumb behind me at Ian.
“Figures,” Brandon said, and I caught an eye roll as I neared him.
As I got closer, I definitely was feeling nervousness, like I’d been caught. But two things worked in our favor that night. It was dark, so Brandon wouldn’t have been able to see our faces locked like they were. And also, this was not an abnormal thing for Ian and me to be doing. Brandon was used to it. If it bothered him, he never let on.
“Wanna go get something to eat?” Brandon looked from me to Ian.
I looked back at Ian, and our eyes connected for a moment before he looked away.
“I think I better head back,” Ian said, shaking his head briefly.
I felt a mixture of relief and sadness that he didn’t want to go. Whatever just happened was weird, and I knew I needed time to think about it, but I also wanted Ian with me. I felt like only part of myself when he wasn’t there.
Brandon looked to me, wordlessly seeking my answer about grabbing some food.
“Yeah, sure. Sounds good,” I said, leaning down to grab my bag.
“You sure you don’t want to come?” I said, turning toward Ian, my best friend—the man who knew me better than I knew myself, but, right now, sort of felt like a stranger.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve got stuff to do.” He gave me a warm-eyed smile, and I instantly felt better. But his smile quickly morphed into something else as Brandon pulled me into him and leaned down to kiss the top of my head.
“See you later,” Ian said, his voice and face full of irritation.
“See ya,” Brandon said, not noticing a thing. But I noticed. Of course I did. I knew Ian better than anyone else did, after all.
Without a word, Ian turned and walked away.
CHAPTER 13
“Would you shut up, Justin?” Ashley whacks his arm with the back of her hand.
We’re sitting in our favorite café after working a luncheon. We spend more time together here than any other place. It’s simple, nothing fancy, has pretty decent food, and is open late, which is perfect for our work schedules. We’re not on a first-name basis with the staff, but they recognize us.
“It’s fine.” I let out a sigh. “We can talk about it. I’m good.” I swirl a French fry in some ketchup and shove it in my mouth.
I look up to see Ashley giving me a look that says she doesn’t believe I’m fine. I honestly am. I didn’t even nibble on my bottom lip when I said it, so it has to be true.
“No, but seriously, Ash, you should have seen that place. It was like something out of a magazine,” Justin continues, obviously not caring whether it bothers me or not.
The Dubois family condo was featured in New York Spaces a while back, but I’m not going to tell them that.
“I’ve gotta find myself a rich girl.” Justin leans his head back against the booth.
“Oh, geez,” Ashley says, rolling her eyes at him. “And why would a rich girl want you?”
“Hey, I’ve got a lot to offer.” He holds up a skinny arm, flexing it to show off his muscles, which, in-fact, are quite toned, but definitely lacking in girth.
Ashley and I look at each other and then burst out laughing.
“Whatever, you guys. You’ll see; I’ll show you.”
“Yes, you just showed us, and we were not so impressed.” Ashley smirks at him.
“Well, maybe I have more going on than meets the eye.” He smirks back and adds a wink.
“Ew.” Ashley scrunches her face, looking repulsed.
“Enough, you two,” I say, trying to end the banter. Those two can go on and on. If I didn’t know them better, I would think it was flirting. “Tell me what I should wear tonight.” I turn toward Ashley, since Justin couldn’t care less about clothes or fashion.
“Where’re you going tonight?” he asks, curious.
“She has a coffee date with Ian, which she’s already told you about. Do you listen to anything?” Ashley gives him a disapproving look.
“We’re not going out. It’s only coffee. And anyway, I’m glad to have Ian back in my life.” I smile slightly.
“Oh, I know,” Ashley says, “you should wear that shirt we got at H&M. The one with the flower on it.”
“Ooh, yes.” I nod my head, remembering the shirt. “Good choice . . . but wait.” I look at the time on my phone, realizing that I haven’t checked in a while. “Crap, it’s nearly six! There’s no way I’m going to have time to get home and back to meet up with Ian. What do I do?” I say, panic rising in my voice. I’m wearing my work uniform, and I smell like food, and not in a good way. I’m not a pleasant sight or smell.
“Bridge,” Ashley says calmly, seeing my panicked look, “I’m walking distance from here. Just come back to my place and get ready.”
I feel instant relief wash over me. “Right. Good plan, Ash.”
“We’d better get going now. It’s going to take us a while to get the food smell off you.” She smiles slightly. “You coming, Justin?” She looks over to him for an answer.
“Oh, totally, for sure,” he says, taking on a girly voice.
“Fine. Whatever.” Ashley rolls her eyes at him. “I’ll see you later?”
“Yep,” is all he says.
“What’re you and Justin doing later?” I ask a bit after we part ways with Justin. It’s always been the three of us since Adam and I broke up, so to hear that the two of them have plans is slightly off-putting. It’s not in a bad way, though. In a confusing way.
“Oh, we’re going to see a movie,” Ashley says breezily. “Justin picked out something.”
“Oh, fun,” I say, suddenly very glad I have plans with Ian.
If I never have to sit through another movie that Justin picks out, it’ll be too soon. He has this weird taste for the artsy and strange ones. They don’t even show them in mainstream movie theaters. We have to go to smaller theaters that are so pretentious that everyone looks appalled when I call them theaters. It’s “cinema,” apparently. Most of the movies are so dreadfully slow, or have horrible endings, or both. I don’t know what he sees in them.
