When We're Thirty

by Casey Dembowski

  She took another sip, glancing at her phone again. Two notifications. She clicked on Kate’s message, which included a picture of Milo Ventimiglia’s butt. Happy birthday, chica.

  The other text was from Brian. A booty call if ever there was one. She was used to it by now—the late-night texts from her boyfriend—but they were seldom appreciated. Particularly because he always asked her to come to him.

  Only if you come here, she typed before she could consider giving in again.

  To her surprise, he answered right away. Be there in 10.

  She glanced down at her penguin pajama pants. No one wanted a booty call in penguin pajamas.

  Hannah’s phone buzzed again, this time with a friend request. She stared at the name—William Thorne. The last time she’d seen him had to have been at Melissa and Tommy’s wedding. That had been five years ago. It seemed like another lifetime. But they should’ve already been Facebook friends. She’d just seen a bunch of pictures of him from her twenty-first birthday in her Memories update. Had he started a new account or been hacked? Hannah clicked on his profile. They only had thirty mutual friends. Hannah opened her friends list and typed his name into the search bar. Will Thorne. Nothing. An inkling of a memory came back to her—graduation night, too many beers, and Will’s lips on hers for the first and only time.

  She jumped as her phone vibrated, shaking the thought of Will and that long-ago kiss from her mind. Brian was here.

  Shit, shit, shit. Hannah scrambled to clear the mess, putting the wine glasses in the sink, the pizza box on top of the garbage, and the leftover crusts in the pail. She didn’t need Binx presenting her with a dead mouse in the morning. Brian’s keys sounded outside the door as he fumbled with the dead bolt. He never remembered which key went where. Penguins could be sexy. Not that it mattered. He was probably wearing Star Wars boxers.

  “Hannah?”

  She stepped into the living room, pulling her hair back in a messy bun. Brian leaned against the back of the couch. He was beautiful—tall but not lanky, athletic but not muscular. His light brown hair fell to his ears and hid the soft green of his eyes. It did her in every time she thought about ending things. She would miss those cheekbones, those bony hips, and the flutter she got every time he acted like the man she knew he could be instead of the boy he insisted on remaining. He’d even forgone the graphic tee tonight, opting for a fitted polo. Small miracles.

  He turned to her with a smile, holding out a boutique of red roses clearly from the bodega down the street. “Happy birthday.”

  So much for pretending until morning.

  Chapter 2

  Hannah

  Binx at her side, a steaming cup of coffee, and Brian’s soft snores coupled with rain pattering against the building made for a perfect morning. Hannah had been sitting on the couch with her feet up for the last twenty minutes, bundled in her favorite hoodie that she’d stolen from Brian. The temperature had dropped overnight, but the heat hadn’t kicked on yet. She breathed in the aroma of her coffee. If only it was the weekend. Hannah loved rainy days with their built-in excuse to stay inside under the covers. The dulcet sounds of a rainstorm calmed her, eliciting memories of childhood movie nights. Her knee, however, did not appreciate the change in pressure. It hurt the most when it rained. Lately, it hurt all the time.

  Formative years filled with basketball and volleyball hadn’t done her knees any favors, and a full-on, butt-in-the-air slip on some ice right after college had only added to her problems. All that had been manageable, but then there’d been the car accident last year. Hannah had been prescribed physical therapy, but the marketplace plan she had for catastrophes didn’t cover such luxuries. At least, it didn’t cover them enough to keep both her and Binx housed and fed. Her pain had ebbed and flowed over the last fifteen months.

  Hannah had a sneaking suspicion she needed surgery. She stretched out her bad knee, pushing her leg as straight as it would go without pain. She noted the minor swelling with a sigh.

  “You really need to do something about that knee.” Brian stood in the doorway of her bedroom, wearing boxers covered in R2-D2s and C-3POs. He watched her with a concerned pout, as if that helped her any.

  “It’s just the rain,” she said, bringing her knee back to a comfortable position. “Coffee’s fresh.”

  “It’s not just the rain. You’ve been favoring it for weeks.”

  Months, actually. It had worsened since that half-marathon she had known better than to run, but she wasn’t going to agree with him.

  Brian wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s freezing in here.”

  He disappeared into the bedroom, reemerging in the sole pair of pajama pants he kept at her place and the zip-up hoodie he’d arrived in last night. It had been a battle to get him to leave any clothes there because of Binx and his alleged cat allergy. However, after a few frigid nights without heat, he’d brought over a single outfit and pajamas.

  “I’m sure it will warm up eventually.”

  He zipped the hoodie all the way up. “You really need to talk to your landlord. No one should live like this.”

  This is New York City! she wanted to scream. She didn’t have bedbugs. Her rent was a steal considering the fact that she had an elevator and a doorman. She could live with the inconsistent heating situation.

  “Is my Claritin in the bathroom?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.

  The discontent that resided under Hannah’s ribcage stirred. She lived with it much like she lived with her knee pain—never quite feeling comfortable. She told herself being with Brian was better than being alone, but right now, she felt that discontent spiraling into resentment.

  “Babe.”

  Hannah glanced toward the kitchen where his voice had come from. Maybe he had decided coffee was more prudent, considering she hadn’t heard him sniffle once in the hours he’d been at her place. Her eyes passed over the roses she had arranged in a vase next to the television. Agitation swelled in her chest. She took a breath. The roses weren’t the problem. She liked roses fine. But didn’t her thirtieth birthday deserve more?

  “Hey, babe. Come here for a second.” Brian peeked out from the kitchen, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He wore a cheesy, excited smile that meant he was up to something—something he thought was romantic or epic, or epically romantic.

  When she reached the kitchen, he was sitting at the table with his feet up, his toes hidden by her slippers, which he had apparently stolen. He didn’t say anything when she entered but simply continued to stare at his phone. She’d played this game before. Whatever it was he wanted her to see, it was most likely in plain sight.

  Nothing was on the counter except the same dirty dishes she had left there for the last two nights. The wine glasses were still in the sink, and the same banana peel was sticking out of the garbage pail from that morning. God, she wasn’t in the mood for this, particularly not at five in the morning before she’d even finished her coffee. Holding in a sigh, Hannah faced the fridge. Her eyes wandered from her yoga schedule to the sandy beach magnet her parents had gotten her on their last weekend in Cape May to the My Plans Are Better than Yours magnetic clip she used to hold tickets and press passes for whatever show she was covering. The clip should’ve been empty, but it held a pair of tickets.

  She grabbed the tickets, loving the feeling of them between her fingers. Her eyes widened as she took in the band name—Wilderness Weekend. “How did you get these?”

  Brian’s lips parted in a toothy smile. “Surprise.”

  Surprise, indeed. These tickets had sold out in six minutes, and Dave had won the straw poll to cover the show despite Hannah’s adamant protest that she’d wanted—needed—to be at the Wilderness Weekend ten-year anniversary show at Irving Plaza. But Riley was keen on not playing favorites, and any double requests were settled with drawing straws or pretzel rods, whichever happened to be closer.

  A cacophony of emotions hit Hannah—excitement, love, regret, and disappointment. S
he fought back the unexpected tears that came with them. Her heart ached at the perfect gift from her imperfect boyfriend. After all her traitorous thoughts yesterday, this. She clipped the tickets back to the fridge and planted a huge kiss on him. He responded in kind, but her heartache remained. Hope was a cruel companion. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten everything exactly right, and hope made her lose her resolve—he could change. He wouldn’t, but he could.

  “Thank you, Bri. These are perfect.” She sat on his lap, running her fingers through his too-long hair. “Now explain how you got them!”

  She felt him holding back laughter, and he kissed her cheek. “Well, I just called Leonard Nulty up—”

  Hannah swatted him playfully.

  “How do you think I got them? I was primed and ready at my computer for nearly a half hour before the sale opened. I preregistered so all my billing and shipping information was already in there. Right at ten o’clock, I refreshed and purchased them.”

  “Do you know how hard I tried to get these?” She hugged him again.

  “Yes, I do.” He laughed. “Happy birthday, babe.”

  She moved to her own chair and put her feet up on his lap. Why couldn’t it always be like this? “So, are you finally going to come see Wilderness?”

  “Uh, no.”

  And there it was—the Brian of the situation.

  “You’ll have much more fun with Kate or Riley.”

  “Riley is nine months pregnant.”

  He nodded, his expression neutral. “Somehow I don’t think that would stop her from attending a concert, but fine, Kate or Stephanie.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Kate and Stephanie were great concert partners. They were willing to get up close and personal, equally willing to find a good spot in the middle of the pack. But neither of them were Wilderness fans. Kate had gone to a show or two back in the day and would come if Hannah asked, but this show would be crazier, louder, and more overcrowded than ever—just the way an anniversary tour should be. Kate would hate it. Fans had been listening to them for a decade, and some of their songs had never been heard live before. It was a once-in-a-lifetime gift.

  “Come on,” she said, nudging him with her foot. “Me, you, and hundreds of other fans packed into Irving Plaza. It’ll be sweaty and sexy, and there’s a very good chance you’ll get laid afterward. I’ll even spring for dinner and ridiculously expensive concert cocktails.”

  She didn’t know why she was pushing. Finding someone to go with her would be easy. She worked for a music magazine, after all, and she had her “Wilderness” friends, several of whom hadn’t gotten tickets either. She knew there was no way Brian was going to go with her. He’d never attended a show with her despite all the free tickets and backstage passes she’d thrown at him. But he had bought these tickets—a pair of them. Somewhere in the fine print, it must have stated that the purchaser of two tickets could not turn down the invitation to attend, just like it was assumed that the receiver of the pair would take the gift giver.

  “You know I don’t mosh.”

  Hannah laughed, pushing herself to her feet. “I promise you, there is no moshing at Wilderness Weekend shows.”

  Brian didn’t crack.

  She took a final sip of her coffee and placed the mug near the sink with the rest of the dishes. She’d wash them before her shower. “Fine. I’ll find someone. Thanks again for the tickets, babe.”

  WILDERNESS WEEKEND, like so many things currently in her life, had first shown up during her sophomore year at the University of Iowa. They were a no-name alternative rock band—emo, if she was being honest—out of Boston on the college circuit when they’d hit her school. Six months later, their lead single had smashed into the airwaves. They’d been mildly popular since then, sticking to the alternative charts and stations, which was exactly how Hannah liked it. Wilderness Weekend and their lead singer, Leonard Nulty, had been the soundtrack to her twenties, and she didn’t see that suddenly ending as she started the next decade of her life. Every time she heard that first single, she was transported back to campus. Back to snowy days and too-drunk-to-care nights, Will and Kate by her side. She clicked on a Facebook photo album marked Sophomore Year 2. There were two of them because she was so old that albums had still only allowed sixty photos when they were created. She had most of these pictures printed somewhere, probably stashed in one of the boxes from her parents.

  Will. It was so funny that he’d popped up the night before she’d gotten Wilderness tickets, since so many of her early Wilderness memories were wrapped up in him.

  Her phone lit up, a picture of Kate silently flashing across the screen. Kate was on a date—the best way to wash away Teddy’s bad mojo, according to her theories on dating. There were many theories, but the call wasn’t a good sign.

  She picked up the phone. “That bad?”

  “I’m hiding out in the bathroom,” Kate said in a muffled voice, meaning someone else was in there. “Can you call me back in like five minutes?”

  “An ‘Oh Timmy’?” Hannah asked, continuing to scroll through pictures on her computer.

  “With a little more flair than usual.”

  The line went dead. It was bad enough when Kate called, but an Oh Timmy with flair? That was reaching stage-five-clinger level, or as Kate called them, “Herpes”—persistent and impossible to get rid of. The next episode of Bitching about Boyfriends was going to be a doozy. Hannah couldn’t wait to hear the retold version of the story, always the most thorough and embellished when Kate was doing it for an audience. Kate would probably ask Hannah to reenact her phone call with fake distress, rapid breathing, and all.

  Hannah jumped at the sound of someone knocking on her front door. No one knocked. Kate and Brian had keys, and everyone else texted their arrival. She stared at the door as if at any moment, someone was going barge in. She couldn’t decide if it would be with a knife or a cake, but it was still early for the local riffraff, and she lived on the fifth floor. Though that begged the question of who was bringing her belated birthday cake. She walked to the door, staring at it for another second. Maybe it was just one of those annoying cable salespeople. Yes, she was perfectly happy with just Netflix and Hulu. No, she didn’t miss flipping through five hundred channels for nothing to be on or to be sucked into yet another Harry Potter weekend. Fine, maybe she missed it a little, but not for the extra hundred dollars a month. The knock came again.

  Hannah opened the door. Her mind registered the man kneeling on her doormat, but all she saw was the diamond ring.

  Chapter 3

  Hannah

  Hannah’s eyes widened at the boulder-sized princess cut diamond in front of her. Her heart dropped—Brian. A few hours ago, she’d been debating breaking up with him. Was he really proposing on the dirty hallway floor? Hannah blinked rapidly, trapping tears she knew were coming. She’d brought up engagement six months ago. He’d scoffed and disappeared for a week, reemerging with a tan and few apologies. But here he was on bended knee. She turned her attention from the ring to the man kneeling in front of her—the man who was not Brian.

  She took in the older, leaner version of the boy she had once known. Memories flooded her brain—study sessions, drunken nights, Wilderness concerts, a graduation-night kiss, and finally, the image of him draped over yet another girl, this one in a bridesmaid dress.

  “William Thorne,” she said derisively. Her body buzzed, adrenaline coursing through her. She’d wanted it to be Brian—for him to have finally figured out that he wanted her for more than just the foreseeable future.

  She turned her attention back to Will. He remained on one knee but had lowered the ring. A smile, halfway between questioning and amused, played across his face. “This is amazingly uncomfortable. Why do people propose like this?”

  “Knights, courting, et cetera and so forth,” Hannah said absently, waving him into her apartment. She peeked around the door, but fortunately, it was late enough that the hallway was empty.

  Will stood
, pocketed the ring, and came in hesitantly despite his initial grand entrance. Hannah watched his eyes travel around the room, taking in the small clues littered throughout the apartment before focusing on her laptop, which still had a picture of the two of them open. Great first impression.

  “You seem surprised to see me,” he said, turning his full attention and the power of his perfect smile on her.

  She should’ve felt surprise at Will’s sudden appearance, but she didn’t. And not just because she’d just gotten a friend request from him—this was completely and utterly a Will thing to do. And really, she should’ve been expecting him.

  “Well, you are a day late.” On top of the last half a decade. Even as Hannah thought it, she knew she had a hand in those lost years. In the end, it wouldn’t matter—not for them. They would still be Will and Hannah. She knew it, and by the contented expression on Will’s face, he knew it too.

  He pulled her into a hug, lifting her off her feet. “Hannah Abbott, as I live and breathe! I’ve missed you.” She giggled as he twirled her around and set her down. He stepped back and gave her a once-over—not in the creepy way some guys did, but exaggerated and comical. “You used to be taller.”

  She rolled her eyes. Only Will would bring up the story she’d told him one snowy night on campus that, when she was seven, she’d spent a whole two months convinced that she’d been shrinking. The following April Fool’s Day, he had moved everything in her dorm a few inches higher, making several things just out of her reach.

  Hannah stepped further into the living room, keenly aware of Will’s every move as he took a seat on the couch.

  “Beer, wine, water?” she asked.

  “Water would be good.”

  She nodded and pushed the lid of her laptop closed. “I’ll be right back.” As she headed for the fridge, her eyes never left Will’s form. He sat back on the couch, his hands clasped and his eyes fixed on his lap. A part of her—the part that knew and loved Will all those years in college—felt no qualms about his late-night visit. Will was Will. Even when they were best friends, he had flitted in and out of her life, always coming back just as she started to worry he never would. But underneath that calm was a rumble of discomfort. He’d shown up at her apartment—an apartment he’d never been to. She searched his face.