by Becky Monson
We get to Ashley’s apartment after climbing six flights of stairs, which makes me realize I definitely take the elevator in Gram’s building for granted.
Ashley is packed into a two-bedroom apartment with four other girls, all of them looking to find their way into show business. The bedrooms are stuffed with twin beds and rolling wardrobe racks because the lack of closets in these old high-rises is ludicrous. It reminds me of college, only more crowded. Much more.
All of the roommates are gone tonight, leaving the apartment to just Ashley and me, which is a first, I think. Usually one of them is here.
Ashley starts rummaging through her clothes, trying to find me something to wear. After about a half hour of putting outfits together, we decide on a pair of distressed jeans (that I may never return—they’re fabulous), with a champagne-colored silk blouse and a black blazer. Feeling good about the outfit, I hit the shower to get the food smell off.
Thirty minutes later, I stand in front of the mirror, scrutinizing my makeup as Ashley curls my dark blonde locks with a curling iron.
“So, have you talked to Adam?” she asks, her eyes concentrating on my hair.
“No,” I say, wiping the side of my mouth where a little of my signature Russian Red lipstick had spread. “I don’t know if I will. Not for a while, at least.”
We are silent for a moment as Ashley continues to work on my hair.
“Thanks, by the way,” I say, breaking the silence.
“For what?”
“For not gloating about the dinner with Adam’s family. And how you were right.”
“Bridge, I wouldn’t gloat about that.”
“I know, but thanks anyway.” I smile in the mirror at her. Finished with the curling, she starts separating the curls with her fingers.
“So you and Justin going out, huh?” I raise my eyebrows, insinuatingly.
“Oh, please.” I see her rolling her eyes in the mirror. “It’s Justin. We’re hanging out. Nothing more than that. Besides . . .” she trails off.
“Besides, what?”
“It’s nothing.” She shakes her head.
“Nope, too late,” I say, turning around to face her. “Tell me.”
“Oh, fine,” she sighs. “I was going to say: besides, even if I did like him, it doesn’t matter.”
“Why?” I ask, confused.
“Because, Bridgette, you blind idiot.” She rolls her eyes.
“What? What do you mean?”
“Isn’t it obvious that he’s got a thing for you?” She looks at me as if I should know this, but I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Justin?” I say, totally taken aback by this information.
“Yes, Bridgette. Justin. How can you not see it?” She shakes her head, disbelieving my ignorance.
“Because I don’t. At all,” I say, fervently. “Justin and I are nothing but friends.” Ashley shakes her head, rolling her eyes at the same time.
“Did he say something to you?”
“No, he didn’t. I can just tell.” She folds her arms.
I close my eyes briefly, trying to rack my brain for clues. Remembering back to college and Ian and . . . maybe I’m not very good at recognizing that. There were clues with Ian, though. But with Justin, there’s nothing there. I just know it.
I shake my head. “He doesn’t, Ash.”
“How do you know? Has he said something to you?” she asks, a little heated.
“No, why would he need to? Are you mad?” I take a step back from her, seeing her face get red with heat, something Ashley does when she’s angry. It’s not hard for her skin to turn red, but I can tell by the tone of red what she’s feeling. Right now, it’s anger.
“It’s nothing.” She turns her head to the side, looking away.
I look at the clock on the wall behind her. It’s seven thirty. “Crap, Ash. I have to go.” I start walking toward the front door to grab my jacket and put my shoes on. Ashley follows me.
“This conversation is not over,” I say, leaning against the wall by the front door to balance myself so I can slide a black ballet flat on my foot. Thank goodness I brought these with me. I’m always dying to get out of my work shoes as fast as possible, so I usually bring a spare pair.
Ashley shakes her head, her skin starting to turn back to its normal shade. “Never mind. Maybe I’m wrong. Just forget it.”
I can tell by the look on her face that she doesn’t think she’s wrong, but I don’t have time to point it out. We say quick goodbyes, and I run swiftly down the stairs, careful not to trip.
Stepping out the front door of Ashley’s building into the remnants of dusk, I take a deep breath. I shake off the conversation I just had with Ashley. That will have to wait. Time to go meet Ian.
CHAPTER 14
University of Connecticut, Sophomore Year, Winter
“Oh, Ian,” the buxom blonde hanging off Ian’s arm said for, like, the gajillionth time. This time it wasn’t even over a joke. I was so over her.
From across the booth, I watched them ogle each other, and I internally gagged. I needed to stop letting Ian convince me that double dates were fun. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes they were, when I actually liked the girl he brought with him. There had been a string of morons lately (don’t get me started on Sarah the Stalker), and Kenzie was no exception. I don’t know why she bothered me so much, but she did. Maybe it was her name. So perky and cute, just like her, well, everything. It wasn’t so much her, as it was her and Ian. She was not who I imagined Ian with. I would just have to deal with it for now. Ian never stuck around with anyone for too long.
“Babe,” Brandon leaned over to my ear, speaking softly. “If you’re going to keep putting your hand on my leg, could you please stop knocking off my napkin?”
“Sorry,” I muttered. So much for romance. Brandon and I had been together for nearly eight months now. We were past the romance stage. Which was kind of weird because it hadn’t been that long. I thought that didn’t happen until at least a year. But it was comfortable with Brandon, and there was something to say about comfort.
I pulled my menu up to my face to hide the two lovebirds across from me, who were currently nuzzling noses. (Who does that?). I felt like I was in my own little cocoon behind my menu, and it kept my hand from traveling down to Brandon’s thigh, where I might accidently knock his napkin off. Heaven forbid.
“Bridge,” Ian called, pulling me away from my bubble.
I peeked over the top. “Yeah?”
“Watcha eating?” He cocked a lone eyebrow at me.
“I don’t know yet,” I said, void of inflection, and went back to my menu.
“Wanna split nachos? Kenzie here doesn’t eat meat.”
I peered over the top again, a questioning look on my face. Ian doesn’t get bothered by much, but vegetarians drive him insane.
This was an interesting development. I shut my menu and placed it in front of me. A quick glance at Brandon found him texting busily on his phone. Typical.
“So, you’re a vegetarian, Kenzie?” I said, knowing full well that this was the first time I had given her my complete attention.
“Vegan, actually,” she said.
I smiled. It was a mischievous smile, but only Ian would know that. Vegetarians drove him insane, but vegans made him down-right incensed. He and my vegan roommate, Amy, had gotten into it more than once. Oh, this was going to be fun.
“So, what made you want to be a vegan?” I asked.
“Bridge,” Ian chided, knowing where I was going.
“Well, I just think it’s how God intended for us to be,” she said, peering at me through her long eyelashes.
Oh, dear heavens, she’s brought God into it. Ian hated it when vegetarians used God as their excuse. He’d usually say something about how if God had intended for us to be vegetarians, then explain the cow. They are massive, slow, and delicious; clearly meant for human consumption.
“So you think God intended for us to be vegan,”
I said, nodding my head, prodding her further.
“Yes. You know, the whole ‘thou shall not kill’ thing.” She bobbed her head.
“So, you think that extends to animals then,” I said, looking from her to Ian. I could see a vein tense in his neck, his jaw firm. I knew Ian, and I sensed that this had not been discussed previously, and he was not liking the answers. At all.
I’m not a betting gal, but if I were, I would put a million dollars down on this not lasting past next week.
I take back what I previously thought. This might be the best double date ever.
“Yes, Ian,” I turned to him. “I’ll split nachos with you. Get extra beef this time.” I didn’t look directly at Kenzie, but from the corner of my eye, I could see her look at Ian with pouting lips.
“Sounds good,” was all he said. A humph came out of Kenzie’s mouth, but he didn’t concede in any way.
I reached over and put my hand on Brandon’s leg, out of sheer habit.
“Babe,” he reproved with his tone, as the napkin slid off his lap and onto the floor.
“Sorry,” I said, but I wasn’t really sorry.
All felt right in the world, actually.
CHAPTER 15
“No, she did not.” Ian shakes his head at me, disbelieving. The dim lighting of the café playing nicely on his face.
“I’m not kidding! She freaking stole my underwear. Who does that?” I scrunch my face, still not truly believing it myself, after all these years. I saw it with my own eyes, so I know it happened.
“I dated that girl. She didn’t seem like an underwear stealer,” he says, still not convinced.
“Well, obviously you didn’t know her that well. I mean, I was her roommate, and I didn’t even get the ‘underwear-stealing’ vibe from her, but I’m here to tell you she did.”
Ian laughs loudly at that. “Wow, I had no idea.” He reaches up and scratches his jaw, a rather handsome five o’clock shadow on his face. I love his laugh. I don’t miss that about Adam. He never laughed like Ian does. I often wondered if he just didn’t get the jokes, but now sitting here with Ian, I’m starting to wonder if maybe he didn’t get me.
Reminiscing with Ian is so fun. There are so many things about college that he remembers that I don’t and vice versa. There’s never a dull moment in our conversations. It was always that way. With Adam and me, sometimes it felt like I had to work at it, but never with Ian.
“Do you remember that girl, Sarah, who stalked me for a while?” Ian asks, and then takes a sip of his coffee.
“Oh, yeah, I remember her. She was scary.”
“I ran into her not long after I moved into the city.”
“No way. Here?”
“Yeah, not far from my building.”
“Did you get a restraining order?”
“Nah, I took her out on a date.”
“You did? Why would you do that?”
“You know . . . people change . . . wanted to give her a second chance . . . she was hot.”
“So, had she changed?”
“No.”
We instantly stop the conversation and stare at each other, a game we used to play back in college. It’s like the blinking game, only instead of not blinking, we’re not allowed to laugh or smile. We called it “laughing chicken,” which is not a very original name, now that I think of it.
It’s very difficult to play, and I seldom won. The game always began after witty banter, when we should be laughing. Somehow we both just knew by the tone of our conversation that the game was on. There was never a “let’s play laughing chicken.”
I tried to play it with Adam once. He didn’t get it.
I freeze my face in a serious expression, trying to think of something sad to keep me from laughing. When you really want to laugh, it’s nearly impossible to do. The trick is to move your mouth around trying to keep it from turning into a smile. The problem is that you’re staring at someone using the same strategy, and they look like a complete idiot. It makes it quite difficult.
I do this duck mouth that used to always get Ian, and I see the side of his mouth twitch. And then the other side twitches, and then, not being able to help himself, he breaks out into a huge smile and starts laughing.
“Yes!” I throw fists in the air. “I win!”
“That was a low blow with the duck lips,” he says, still chuckling.
“Well, you know me.” I wink at him.
“I do know you,” he says, his smiling face slowly morphing into a more serious expression.
And there are the butterflies.
We look at each other, my fingers twiddling with the straps of my black hobo bag sitting in my lap. Ian’s tapping his fingers on his cup. There’s an intensity in the air. I can tell just by looking at him that he’s thinking the same thing I am, which is how much I’ve missed this.
“Well,” Ian breaks the stare, looking to his watch. I know what’s coming next, and I don’t want to hear it. “I guess I better get going.”
Damn.
“Yeah, me, too.” I look at my phone and it’s nearly ten. I had no idea we’d been sitting here for two hours. It felt more like twenty minutes. I wish it wouldn’t end.
We walk out of the coffee shop together, not saying anything.
“Walk me to my stop?” I ask, hoping he will say yes, wanting to spend a little more time with him.
“Sure,” he says.
We start walking toward the subway. I can see the bright entrance sign not far from us, maybe a half block away.
“It was great to see you again.” I look over at him as we walk.
“It really was. I didn’t realize—”
He cuts himself off, shaking his head.
“You didn’t realize what?”
“I just didn’t realize how much I’ve missed you.” He smiles to himself, looking down at the street as we walk.
“Me, too,” is all I can say. I want to say something profound, but I’ve got nothing.
We reach the top of the stairs to the subway entrance quicker than I wanted.
“Lunch next week?” I turn my body to face him.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, nodding his head.
“Well, thanks again,” I say, starting to move in for a hug.
Instead though, Ian suddenly grabs my face with his hands, pulls me into him, and kisses me softly and gently. Then, letting go of my face and wrapping his arms around my back, he pulls me in even closer, and we kiss with more intensity.
Oh, my gosh, this. This is what kissing should feel like. I know I shouldn’t compare, even though I’ve been doing it all night, but I never had this with Adam. Kissing him never felt like this.
I’m instantly transported back to the first time Ian and I kissed. That time in my apartment when Ian told me how he felt, and I knew I felt the same. This feels so right. So amazing. So perfect.
I wrap my arms tighter around Ian as the kiss deepens even further. I want this. I want more of this.
Just before I completely lose myself in this moment, Ian pulls away abruptly. He lightly pushes me away from him and curses under his breath.
“I can’t do this.” He shakes his head as if to bring himself back from a trance. Then he turns around and starts walking away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
“Ian?” I start to follow him, but he’s walking too fast. I hear him whistle loudly, trying to hail a taxi, and I see one pull over and watch as he quickly jumps in, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t look back. And I’m left there, standing on the sidewalk, wondering what the hell just happened.
CHAPTER 16
“What do you think it all means, Gram?”
We are sitting by the window at a deli, eating sandwiches. Outside, the gray sky and random sputters of rain mock my mood.
“I’m not sure. On the one hand, he did kiss you, which should be a pretty big deal. Well, it was in my day, at least. You young kids are kissing everyone nowadays. If you ask me, it’s
quite unsanitary.” She clicks her tongue, disapprovingly.
“Gram, focus.”
“Yes, my apologies. I don’t know why he kissed you and then walked away.”
“He practically ran, Gram.” I slump back in my seat, picturing the scene in my head, like I’ve done nearly a thousand times. Well, maybe it’s been hundreds.
“So why do you think he did?” she asks, and then takes a bite of her pastrami on rye.
“Well, isn’t it obvious? He still hasn’t forgiven me for college.” I look down at my plate, feeling defeated. My turkey croissant is not exactly what I need for the emotional eating I want to do right now. What I need is that big, fat slice of chocolate cake eyeing me from the counter display case.
“Yes, you know I still don’t understand exactly what happened. You’ve been very vague,” she says, and then takes a sip of her soda.
“I know. I don’t really like talking about it. It’s kind of a black mark in my past.” I eye the chocolate cake again.
“Did you cheat on him or something?” she asks, curiosity obviously taking over.
“No. Yes . . . sort of.” I exhale loudly.
“Well, which one is it?” Gram looks taken aback by my answer. I don’t think she was expecting that.
“All of it. You know, I don’t really want to talk about it.” I look out the window at the dreary weather.
“Yes, of course. Sorry to pry.” There’s a slight look of hurt on her face that she tries to cover up.
“Oh, Gram, you aren’t prying. I’ll tell you. I just don’t feel like talking about it right now.”
We sit there in silence, Gram eating her sandwich and me staring at mine.
“I guess there’s one silver lining, tiny as it is,” I say, picking up my sandwich but still not taking a bite.
