The Cheat Sheet: A Romantic Comedy
Page 19
Outside on the sidewalk, I find the SUV Nathan and I rode in earlier pulling up, and that’s when I remember that he asked his driver to remain on standby in the parking garage until I was ready to go home. Thankfully, I haven’t had too many issues with intrusive paparazzi or obsessive fans, but I’ve also not been taking my chances by walking alone too often. Tonight though, I need the walk to clear my head.
Robert, our same driver from earlier tonight, cuts the engine and dashes from the driver seat like a NASCAR driver at a pit stop.
“Ms. Camden, wait! Mr. Donelson asked for me to drive you home.”
I look from the driver to five blocks down Cherry Avenue to where I can literally see my apartment building. Sure, it’s nighttime, but it’s well lit and the road is pretty empty. It seems a little overkill to drive two inches home.
“That’s okay. Thank you, but I’d like to walk.”
I don’t need to get in Nathan’s fancy SUV and be full of every single reminder of the night. I’m afraid I’ll short-circuit. I need to walk off my nerves and get my head on straight, because something definitely almost just happened between us and I have no idea how to feel about it. Not sure I want to feel anything about it.
I keep walking, and Robert hops into the SUV and starts crawling along beside me. I cut my eyes sideways, trying to figure out if he’s following me or not. I speed up and he does too. I abruptly stop and so does he.
I turn to him with my hands on my hips. “Robert! Roll down the window.” He complies, and now I can see his sweet smiling face. It’s hard to be mad at Robert in his cute driver’s hat. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing you home. Mr. Donelson was very specific that I need to make sure you get home safely.”
I groan. “So you’re going to follow me like a stalker all the way to my home?”
“I prefer bodyguard. And yes.” He gives me an apologetic smile. He knows he’s being annoying, but his boss pays him too well to not obey. “Unless there’s somewhere else you’d like to have me take you?”
I think about this for a moment, and then realize, Why yes! There is somewhere I’d like him to take me. To the only person who always makes everything better.
“Okay, but I’m riding shotgun because there’s way too much I need to talk about to be stuffed in the back like a snooty politician.”
I throw a rock at the window. Nothing. So I throw another little pebble. It makes a really bad cracking sound, and I’m scared that maybe I broke it. That never happens in the movies! I thought those things were supposed to be indestructible!
I’m just about to turn tail and run when the curtains flutter open and my sister glares down at me from her second-story window. I can see the shock register on her face. I gesture wildly for her to open the window like maybe she wouldn’t think of doing it on her own.
She slides it open and I quietly yell, “Rapunzel, let down your hair!”
“Bree?! What the heck are you doing here?” Lily’s so cute. She never cusses.
I point aggressively toward her front door. “Come down!”
“This is so weird! I feel like I’m dreaming.”
“Itt’sss noooot a dreeeammm,” I say in a spooky voice. “I am the ghost of Christmas—”
“Oh my gosh, I’ll be down in a second.”
Two minutes later, I’m sitting on the front porch with my big sister and laying my head on the shoulder of her fuzzy pink robe.
She nods toward the curb. “Who’s that?”
“Bob. My driver.” Only his true friends call him Bob. I sat in the front with him all the way here and we shared a bag of convenience store candy while he told me the story of how he met his wife, Miriam, forty years ago. So yeah, best friends.
“Why do you have a Bob?”
“Because Nathan wouldn’t let me walk home alone.”
“Sure. Sounds logical.” We’re quiet for a minute. “Not that I don’t love having you here with me, but can you please tell me why in the world you drove two hours in the night to throw rocks at my window and sit on my porch?”
“I thought the rocks would be cute. Just like the movies. But I think I might have cracked your window pane.”
“Are you serious?” she asks in a heightened tone that tells me she doesn’t find it nearly as cute as I do.
I grimace. “No. Just kidding.” Okay, I might have to call in a favor with Nathan and have his magic worker bees get that window replaced before my sister finds out.
“Oh.” She sighs with relief. I really hope she doesn’t check it later. “Do you want me to go put on some water for tea?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got to get Bob back home soon or Miriam is going to hunt me down.”
Lily laughs incredulously. “Okay, come on. Seriously—you didn’t drive all this way for a hug. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
I whimper and snuggle deeper into my sister’s softness, letting the reality I’ve been avoiding finally crash over me. “I think Nathan and I almost got freaky tonight.”
“WHAT! I—”
I whip my head up to level her with a stern look. “If you say the words I told you so, I will steal this pink robe right off your back and go throw it in a muddy puddle.”
“Rude! But fine. I won’t say it. Just know I’m thinking it.” She grins at me, and I feel a little bit of the weight on my shoulders lessen. “So, I’m guessing since you’re here instead of there with him this means you didn’t get freaky, as you so immaturely put it?”
“Right. I was completely in control of my emotions and able to calmly put a stop to it before it went too far.”
She coughs. “You panicked.” And coughs again.
I bump her shoulder. “Yes, fine, okay?! I completely spiraled. I tripped my way out of his apartment and promised I’d bake him a cake. I’m a complete mess.”
“A little bit, but that’s why we love you. So tell me what happened from beginning to end.”
I do. I tell her about tearing the poster (she laughs like a hyena and I don’t appreciate it at all) and then I tell her about going back to his apartment and how he’s seen me naked (oh gosh, I totally forgot about that part until just now) and then I tell her about the stripping and how I cut it off. At that point, she pinches me hard under the arm.
“OW! What was that for?!”
“For running out on him mid-striptease!” Her cheeks are seriously red. She’s so mad at me.
“Don’t say striptease like that. You make it sound like there was gyrating and helicoptering of clothing.”
She shakes her head. “Next time there should be. Oh my gosh, a man like Nathan Donelson giving you a striptease! And you stopped him! How are you my sister?”
“I’m going to go wake up Doug and tell on you if you don’t stop being so creepy.”
“Doug would back me up! I’m genuinely mad at you. I need a minute.”
I raise my eyebrows and fold my arms, waiting for my sister to calm down from her conniption fit. Finally, she takes in a deep breath and releases it. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“You good?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Great, now can we stop making this about you, please? Because I’m on the brink of a big life decision here and sort of need your support.”
“Fine, yes, I’m sorry. Proceed.” She tightens the pink tie of her robe primly like she wasn’t just encouraging me to turn Nathan into a Chippendale dancer.
“I think…I think I want to rip up my rules and see what happens between me and Nathan. You know, what do the hip kids say nowadays? Go with the flow? I’m sick of being just friends with him. I’m ready to hope for more.”
Lily raises her hands like she’s sitting in church and the Holy Spirit really spoke to her. “Praise be. We’ve all been waiting long enough!”
I close my eyes and finally let my mind race back to that moment in his living room. It’s time to dissect every tiny feature of his face to make sure I’m making the right decision. I use this memory to track the
movements of his body, not out of desire (though that’s there too), but like I’m studying a new language, trying to decipher its meaning.
In this recollection, Nathan doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t look away from me once when I ask him to remove everything protecting him and stand in front of me exposed. There’s trust in his eyes. I use the fancy CIA-level surveillance system in my brain to zoom in on his skin. ENHANCE! Chill bumps line his arms. But then, lastly, when he looks up at me while helping with my heels, his hand wraps around my ankle—there, I pause the image and point to the screen—in his face is the look of a man with feelings. I’m not sure how big those feelings are, but they are right there on the surface.
I open my eyes, courage filling me up like a balloon. I can’t hide from risk anymore or I’m going to be sitting all by myself inside these protective walls—lonely and disappointed—for the rest of my life.
I look at Lily, squaring my shoulders. “You know what I’ve realized? It’s time to hope for more with Nathan, because hope is healthy. Even if I prepare myself for the worst in life, it will never make the fall hurt less.”
Her mouth falls open in shock, and then she smacks my arm. “I’M THE ONE WHO TOLD YOU THAT.”
I scrunch up my nose. “I don’t think so.”
“Yes. It was me.”
“I think it was an inspirational graphic on Instagram.”
“IT WAS YOUR GENIUS BIG SISTER!”
I laugh, wrap my arm around her fuzzy-pinkness, and kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you, big sister. You are a genius.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
We sit like this for a little while longer, talking about life and her boys and Doug’s recent promotion and the upcoming birthday party she’s throwing for my oldest nephew (of course I’ll be there). Lily is truly happy, and that fills me with joy to no end.
Finally, she asks, “So what’s next? Are you going to call Nathan tomorrow and tell him you have feelings for him?”
“Call him?! I might have had an epiphany tonight, but I’m not ready to place my heart on the chopping block completely yet. I’m going to lay it on thick under the protection of our fake relationship and see how he responds first. I’ll hope privately in my heart.”
Lily looks horrified. “What does ‘lay it on thick’ mean?”
I gawk at her. “You know, flirting! Being sexy.” I shimmy my shoulders on sexy.
“I’m concerned that you don’t know how to do either of those based on the phrase you just used and the thing you just did with your shoulders.”
“Oh stop. It’s so sexy. Hey, Bob! Does Miriam ever lay it on thick?!” My new BFF will back me up.
He rolls down his window with a beaming smile. “Oh yeah! She never skimps on the mayo for my ham sandwiches.”
I grimace, and Lily gloats. Fine. My sensual phrases need some work.
Just before I stand to leave, I remember something. “Oh! Wait, I have something for you!” I tell Lily while digging in my purse.
“Is it a Breenket?! Please say it is. Nathan is starting to collect more than me and I want to squash him next time we compare.”
I pull out a tiny little Barbie. It’s wearing a—
“Pink robe!” Lily says with a huge smile as she runs her fingers over the tiny little plush garment.
“I saw it in the grocery store the other day when I got distracted on the knickknacks aisle, and I was missing you so much I had to buy it.”
Lily’s arms wrap around my shoulders and squeeze. “Thank you, I love it. And now I’m going to own your man.”
“Not my man yet.”
She laughs. “Bree, darling, he’s been your man for years.”
“Food fight? You actually did it?” Jamal asks, looking up from a sheet of paper I printed off with all of our line items on it. I’ve crossed out the things I’ve already tried. I put a check mark next to things that went well and an X by the ones that were a no-go. “How was it?”
I nod toward the sheet. “What do you think that X means?”
Derek slaps Jamal in the chest with the back of his hand. “Told you it wouldn’t work.”
“You have nothing to gloat about,” I say, sitting forward so I can see Derek. “Your wink tanked big time.”
Lawrence leans around Derek so he can snatch the paper out of Jamal’s hands. “Let me see this.” He runs his finger down the list, and I know what he’s hunting for. His face splits into a victorious smile when he finds it. “I knew randomly slow dancing would work. You can trust everything that happens in The Notebook to be romantic as shit. You guys need to listen to me more often.”
“I liked you better when you were the quiet, sullen one,” Jamal says to Lawrence, tapping his fingers on the armrest primly.
Price chimes in from my left. “Why? Because he’s stealing your thunder?”
Jamal narrows his eyes with a mocking smile. “Keep it up and I’ll come over there and smudge your toenail polish.”
“Definitely not a threat I ever expected to hear in my lifetime.”
I look down at my own feet, propped up on a folded towel so my black and silver toenails can dry. Yeah, we came to a nail salon today because after Bree painted our nails for the first playoff game and we won, we got pretty superstitious about it. As long as we continue winning, we’ll continue painting. I would have asked her to paint them again today, but I also needed to brainstorm with the guys. So here we are, just five big dudes destroying stereotypes, getting our toenails painted in our team’s colors, and enjoying the hell out of ourselves. Did you know they serve champagne at these places? I’m honestly hooked. I need to bring Bree back here.
Jamal somehow wrestles the list back from Lawrence. He wants to reclaim his thunder. “Okay, so judging by this list, it’s time to step up the physical touch a notch. You’ve held hands. Touched her arm while talking.” He’s ticking these off on his fingers. “Brushed a strand of hair back from her face. Rubbed her feet…yeah, I’d say it’s time to make out a little if she seems up for it.”
Item number 20. Yes, I have them memorized. And yes, I’ve been looking forward to this one more than the rest. Mainly I’ve just been hoping I’d make it to this one without Bree shutting down on me and having to abort the whole plan. So far, all signs have pointed toward: Yeah, she’s feeling it too. I’ve never been full of so much hope. Or dread for if this all goes well and I have to tell her I’ve been working from a cheat sheet this whole time. But we can cross that bridge when we get to it.
“How though? I can’t exactly make out with her on my couch at home and use the fake relationship excuse. And we don’t have any events coming up.”
“I’ll throw a party,” Derek says from his end. “After the game tomorrow. If we win, we’ll call it a victory party. If we lose, it’s a consolation. Parties are the perfect excuse to make out. Everyone’s always slipping off to a dark corner.”
I grimace, feeling sort of gross to be premeditating a make-out with Bree. “Actually, I don’t want to plan that one. If it happens naturally, it happens. I’m not going to force it.”
Derek rolls his eyes. He thinks I’m such a prude. “Fine. But it’s still a good place to act as a springboard for a few of these other ideas.”
“You just want an excuse to party,” says Jamal with a tattletale grin.
Derek is the resident playboy/troublemaker/media magnet. He’s always getting into trouble, which is why during the regular season, I keep the guys on a short leash. There’s nothing I can actually do to stop them if they want to party, but for some reason, they look up to me. They want my approval. Which is why he has been chomping at the bit to get into a little trouble.
Derek clasps his hands below his chin like a pleading toddler. “Pllleeeasseee let me throw a party, Dad.”
“I actually think Derek is right,” Jamal says, thumping the back of his knuckle against the sheet of paper. “A party is a great place to unexpectedly short-circuit a fuse and have to light a bunch of candles.”
Derek is already ripping his phone from his pocket and his thumbs fly across his screen. Jamal chuckles under his breath beside me and starts reading down the list again.
“Wait—did you really get stuck in an elevator?”
I tip my shoulder. “I paid my apartment’s security guard to stop it while we were inside it.”
Jamal’s eyes glimmer. This was another one of his ideas. “And? Did you get cozy?”
“She had to pee and started obsessing about possibly having to urinate in the corner of the elevator. I texted the guard and told him to get it running again after two minutes.”
He groans. “Don’t tell Lawrence.”
It’s Sunday night, and Bree and I are on our way to Derek’s victory party. That’s right, we won the game. Only one more to win to secure a spot in the Super Bowl. More importantly, whether we win or lose this next game, the Super Bowl will still happen, which means the commercial will still air, and this fake relationship will have no reason to continue on. No reason, unless…it’s not fake anymore.
Currently, Bree is sitting in the passenger seat of my truck reading me all the outrageous DMs she’s been getting from prying fans while on our way to the party. I only have a few weeks left to convince Bree of how great we could be as a couple, and I need to attend every public event I can so I have excuses to woo her.
“…and THEN she asks if I would snap a picture of you in the shower and send it to her! Can you even believe that?! Naturally, I asked how much she’d be willing to pay for it.”
I cut her a glance, and she just laughs and continues reading. We go on like this for twenty more minutes because Derek lives in a ritzy suburban community full of mansions a little outside of Long Beach. I’m exhausted from playing earlier today and wish we were headed back to my place instead of a party where I still have to be on, but this is important. Item number 20 important. Which, I’m still not planning. Only open to the possibility should it arise.