Mimi, who picks up on my silence as evidence that I’m having a moment, tries to bring the conversation back to life. “So, Conner, why are you in town?”
“I’m packing up my mom’s stuff and getting the house ready to be put on the market since she’s moving to New Hampshire to live with my sister and her family.” Conner drinks the last of his beer and then puts the bottle on the bar. Mimi asks he if wants another, but he politely refuses. “No, thanks, I actually have to get going since I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”
“How long are you in town for?” I ask.
“A couple of weeks or so. Maybe a little longer or a little less, depending on how quickly I get everything done. Luckily, I was able to take some time away from my residency to help out my mom, which was the least I could do considering all that she’s done for me over the years.”
“Well, it was really nice to meet you, Conner,” Mimi says, putting out her hand for him to shake. “I really do have some side work to get done if I want to get out of here tonight. Katy, I’ll see you at home.”
She darts away as Conner stands up and takes a few bills out of his wallet to leave on the bar. As he tucks it back into his pocket, he asks, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.”
“Um, nothing.” Then I realize I usually play beach volleyball mini tournaments with Dylan one Saturday a month. And tomorrow is that Saturday. “Wait, I have a volleyball game on the beach tomorrow.”
“Can you skip it?” he asks.
Can I? Would I skip it is more the question to ask myself. I’ve never missed a Saturday volleyball tournament before. But it’s not like it’s the Olympics or anything, so it wouldn’t be a big deal, right? Then I think Conner is only visiting for a little while, and Dylan would understand if I wanted to spend time with an old friend. So yes, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a big deal.
“Yes.”
He puts his hand out to help me up from my bar stool and then bends down to grab my messenger bag for me. As I pull it over my head, I can feel Conner staring at me. Not in a creepy way, but in the curious, trying-to-figure-me-out kind of way again.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I ask, half laughing, half serious. “You’re giving me the heebie-jeebies.”
He shakes his head and chuckles through a sigh. “It’s nothing. I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you’re a grown-up.”
“Ditto.”
The silence stretches between us for a few beats until he says, “Okay, so tomorrow. Can you meet me at my mom’s house? Say around eleven? And don’t worry, I won’t make you do you any heavy lifting.”
“Sure, sounds good.”
The time has come when we’re supposed to say good night to each other, but what is the protocol? As kids, we’d just bump fists or give each other a high five. But now it’s weird. Do we kiss on the cheek and hug again? I’m not sure what to do, and by the look on Conner’s face, neither is he. Glad to know that I’m not the only one perplexed by this situation.
Finally, Conner takes a step toward me, and I think it’s to give me a hug good-bye, so I step in a little closer too. Our signals are all kinds of crossed, because he leans forward as my arms wrap around his neck for a friendly hug. My face is tilted up when he attempts to kiss me on the cheek, only to end up kissing me on the corner of my mouth because I didn’t move my face in time.
We’re both laughing at how awkward that was. But I can’t lie to myself about not enjoying the tiniest feel of his lips on mine finally, for the briefest of seconds and if only the one time.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s okay. We might need to work on that a little,” I joke.
Conner raises an eyebrow. “So, tomorrow? Eleven?”
“See you there.”
Then he goes to leave, turning around one final time when he reaches the door to wave good-bye. I stand there frozen in the same spot where he left me at the bar, staring at the door for a few seconds after he’s gone. As if I’m waiting for something else to happen. What that something is, I don’t know. And it isn’t until I hear a bottle shatter on the hardwood floor somewhere in the distance that the spell is broken.
My attention goes to Mimi behind the bar, and I see that she’s busy, so I simply shout out a quick good night to her. I drive home consumed by the idea of spending the day with Conner. I do manage to snap out of my thoughts of him long enough to finalize the article I had been working on and email it over to Dylan for approval. When I receive his return email ten minutes later saying that everything looks great, my mind goes right back to Conner. The thought of him brings a smile to my face, and it stays there as I get under the covers to sleep.
Just the two of us again.
Like two peas in a pod.
CHAPTER NINE
I’m awakened by the best smell ever: freshly brewed coffee. I’m shocked and delighted, since Mimi is not one to brew a pot of coffee ever. There must be a special reason or it’s the end of the world. Whichever it is, it gets my eyes open after sleeping in longer than usual on a Saturday.
The bright Florida sun peeks through the blinds on the window over my bed, and it takes me a second or two to adjust to it. Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, I kick my feet out of the bed and into my slippers. With a quick stretch, I’m off to have my morning cup of joe.
“Well, well, well,” Mimi says. “If it isn’t Sleeping Beauty.”
“Good morning to you too.”
Opening the cabinet that has our huge collection of coffee mugs, I grab one and put it under the coffee machine, then press the lever down so that it will dispense a full cup of morning goodness. Behind me, I feel Mimi’s impatient stare, followed by her foot tapping on the floor.
When I turn around, she has her hands on her hips.
“What?” I ask. “Why are you looking at me like you’re going to kill me?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. What did I do?”
“Um, hello! Conner. Last night. Bar. Tension. The sexual kind. And no, I’m so not wrong on this one.”
I almost choke on my coffee. Once I clear my throat, I stare at her in amazement. “What the hell are you talking about? Tension, the sexual kind? There was no sexual tension. He’s just an old friend.”
“Thank God you have me in your life,” she says, looking up at the ceiling.
I have to laugh. “What does that mean?”
She comes over to where I’m standing and takes the mug out of my hands. As if placing a newborn baby down for a nap, she ever so gently puts it down on the counter between us. Then she takes both my hands in hers and with the most serious face I’ve ever seen on her, proceeds to tell me whatever is on her mind.
“Sweetie,” she says in a sugary voice. “That man—and girl, he is soooo fine, I don’t blame you one bit for being hung up on him—he’s attracted to you. He wants to get into your pants. He wants to know if the carpet matches the drapes. He wants to make you howl at the moon like a dog from behind. He wants to—”
“Are you high?!” I step away from her. Yanking my hands from her increasing death grip, I add, “I mean, seriously, did you take, like, an Ambien or something and mix it with a Red Bull? Because you are freaking nuts!”
“I’m just trying to help you out.”
“With what, exactly?”
“With seeing the signs.” Mimi climbs onto the counter and crosses her legs with all the flourish of a flamenco dancer. “Listen, he is not the same guy you knew. He’s older, wiser, definitely hotter, and I’ll bet you a million dollars that he’s one hundred percent kicking himself for not having taken your V card when he had the chance.”
“He is not.”
“Yes he is.”
“No, he’s not, Mimi.”
“Oh yes he is, Katy.”
I sigh and lean against the counter. “Okay, I give. What makes you think all of this?”<
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“The way he whispered that little hint in your ear. Or the way he winked at you all playful and was totally flirting with you.” She puts both her hands underneath her chin and then blinks hers eyes in quick succession. “Oh! And the way he noticed that you definitely aren’t a little girl anymore.”
I was there when all of this happened. Either I’m the world’s biggest idiot or I’m completely clueless, because not once last night did I get the impression that Conner was into me. Did he mention how I’m all grown up a couple of times? Sure, but that doesn’t translate into being interested in me.
“Nope, I don’t see it, Mimi.” I reach for my coffee mug again. Holding it at my lips before taking a sip, I say, “I’ll prove you wrong when I see him today.”
“Hold the fucking phone! What did you just say?”
“I said, I’m going to see him today. And I’ll prove you wrong.”
“Wait a second. Back up to when he asked you out. Because I missed that part of the conversation,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “There’s really nothing to tell. He asked me to come over to his mom’s house today. He’s helping to pack up all of her things since she moved to his sister’s in New Hampshire. That’s it. No funny business.”
She stays quiet for a few seconds. Then she smiles wide. “I’m not going to say another word about it. But promise me one thing, okay?”
“Fine, what?”
“You’ll tell me when it’s okay to say I told you so. Because as sure as the day is long, I will be saying I told you so sooner than later.”
Right then, the doorbell rings, and we both look at each other in confusion. That is, until I glance at the clock on the microwave over Mimi’s shoulder and it registers.
Dylan.
Oh God, I am the worst friend in the universe.
Mimi hops off the counter to answer it. When she opens the door, she announces, “It’s one of your men, Katy.”
Inwardly, I groan, because for the millionth time I’m going to have to explain to her that: (A) Dylan is not one of my men, (B) I have no other man to have a list going all of a sudden, and finally, (C) Dylan is a friend, just like Conner.
Dylan is so good-natured about Mimi’s ribbing. He’s been in on it for as long as I can remember, so it doesn’t even faze him.
“Mornin’ ladies.”
Dylan strolls into our apartment as he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head. He’s dressed to play beach volleyball. In one hand he’s spinning his keys and in the other is a to-go cup of Starbucks coffee. He takes a couple more steps toward me in the kitchen and looks over my pajamas and bedhead.
“Why aren’t you ready?” Dylan asks.
“Humph, and you say he’s not one of your men.” Mimi says this as she turns on her heel and walks down the hallway to her bedroom. Then she shouts suddenly, “Make it work!”
He jerks his thumb over his shoulder and says with a chuckle, “What does she mean one of your men?”
I smile. “Forget about her. She’s just being crazy as usual. Listen, Dylan, when I turned in the article last night I meant to tell you that I needed to cancel our plans today.”
His bright green eyes scan me from head to toe in one fell swoop. I immediately regret not putting on my robe after I got out of bed, since I’m sure my boobs are on full display through my thin white tank top, and I have on barely there shorts. I’m practically naked, so I immediately cross my arms to cover my chest. Granted, he’s seen me in a bikini before, but there is something more intimate about bedclothes and undergarments. Especially when it’s a man who’s taking it all in.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” I catch his gaze quickly going from my now covered chest to my face. “Do you need me to run out and get you some medicine or something?”
Seeing him all anxious to please me—as a friend, of course—and even if it is simply to get me medicine for an ailment that doesn’t exist, makes me feel incredibly guilty that I’m cancelling our plans. But when I got home last night, I had to give my article a quick once-over. Then I pressed Send and that was it. Not to mention that the idea of spending the day with Conner was kind of at the forefront of my mind, blocking out any and all other thoughts before falling asleep.
“No, I’m totally fine.” I hesitate before telling him the rest for some reason. “I’m spending the day with an old friend who is in town for just a couple of weeks.”
He relaxes a little, the tension visibly leaving his face, and he smiles brightly at me. “Do I know her?”
“Her?”
“Yeah, your friend that you’re spending the day with. Do I know her?”
Of course he would assume he might know my friend since we’ve been friends for so long, and I have such a very small circle of friends. Actually, I really only have Mimi and Dylan . . . and I guess my brothers. Who don’t count since, well, they’re family.
Nervously, I take a chunk of my hair and start to tie it in a loose knot before undoing it, then immediately do it all over again. “Um, no. And it’s not a she. It’s a he.”
“Oh.”
There’s a noticeable shift in the room with his one-syllable answer.
Unsure of what to do next, I try to think of something to say to fix this. But I struggle to find the right words. “Listen, Dylan, I—”
“Yup, sounds about right,” Mimi says under her breath as she storms back and grabs her coffee mug. “Forgot my coffee.”
“Shut up, Mimi.” Turning my attention back to Dylan, I say, “Ignore her.”
“It’s fine, Katy. I can get someone else to sub for you. Go ahead and have a great time catching up with . . .” He makes a face like he’s trying to remember something.
“With Conner,” I say.
“Right. With Conner.”
I could swear he says Conner’s name as if he has a wad of peanut butter on the roof of his mouth and can’t quite get his tongue to let the word roll off of it. But that’s probably because I’ve put him out this morning by driving out of his way to pick me up. And in reminding myself of this fact, I start all over again with the self-induced and well-deserved guilt trip.
“I’m really sorry, Dylan. I really should have told you last night or at least called you this morning.”
Dylan’s demeanor changes and he laughs off my screwup like it’s nothing. “It’s not a big deal, Katy. Go and have a great day with your friend. We’ll catch up later.”
I let go of the chunk of hair I’ve been twirling and knotting. “Okay, so I’ll see you in the office on Monday?”
He’s already walking to the front door. It’s not a huge apartment, but it seems like for every step he takes, I have to take at least four to keep up with him.
He still hasn’t answered me, so when I catch up to him and hold the door open, I ask again, “Dylan, I’ll see you Monday, right?”
Reaching out, my hand latches on to his forearm before he walks past me. His skin feels both soft and warm under my touch. When we look down at the same time at the point of contact, I quickly snatch back my hand. And if I’m not crazy, it makes this moment feel more uncomfortable than it already was.
“Yeah, sure. Of course. I’ll see you Monday.” He tells me this while backing farther away and through the door I’m still holding open for him.
And then he’s gone. Practically racing down the walkway to his car, barely sparing me a second glance and no wave good-bye.
“I’m such a shit,” I say to myself quietly.
Closing the door, I lean my forehead against it and sigh out loud. Then a thought occurs to me, and I smile to myself. I’ll take Dylan out to lunch on Monday when we’re back at the office, my treat, to his favorite place to make it up to him.
Standing up straight, I instantly feel better about the whole thing and put it right out of my head. But then another thought pops in, this one is infinitely trickier, at least according to Mimi . . . Conner. I look over my shoulder at the clock on the microwave again and see that I have a couple of hours
to (1) find an outfit to wear, and (2) get myself to his mom’s house by eleven o’clock. To accomplish this, I’m going to have to bite the bullet and ask for advice from the one person who has way better fashion sense than anyone else I know.
With a reluctant groan, I shout out her name.
I hear her happy little jaunt into the living room before I see her and try to put on a straight face. “I need your help.”
“With juggling your men? Girl, you are on your own with that hot mess.”
“No, and would you cut that out already,” I tell her. “I need your help with finding something to wear to see Conner.”
Her eyes go wide. Her mouth drops open a little. And then finally, she makes a strange strangled sound.
“Mimi, are you okay?”
She comes out of her stupor, then runs off down the hallway, yelling out to me, “I thought you’d never ask.”
CHAPTER TEN
When I arrive at Conner’s mom’s house, I’m already regretting my decision to let Mimi dress me.
She chose a pair of very short shorts in a royal blue that if I were a year or two older, I would not be able to get away with wearing. Above them is a black linen swing tank top that makes me feel more uneasy than the shorts, believe it or not, since it forces me to wear a racerback bra that puts my cleavage uncomfortably on display. This paired with black flip-flops that have a simple decorative flower on them, as Mimi says, for effect. I drew the line at jewelry, because if there is one thing I can’t stand to be bothered with, it is an accessory, or two, or three. The worst part is that she didn’t let me bring one hair tie to pull my hair up, which is my natural inclination within minutes of leaving my house and going anywhere. I officially feel more self-conscious than ever about my appearance.
But when I turn my attention to his childhood home, I’m calmed. The dozen or so amaranth plants I had helped Conner and his mom plant years ago are in full bloom. Their deep wine-red leaves are spilling over and look beautiful against the plain, cream-colored stucco of the ranch house. I park my car behind what I assume must be his rental during his visit and step out into the blazing midday sun.
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