by Claire Adams
"Stuff's a little weird right now," I said.
"How so?"
"I would have to reenroll if I wanted to play for the school again, but since I took time off, I don't know whether it would be worth trying to get drafted this year. Football was always what I wanted to do. I feel like I'd rather concentrate on that than split my time with academics."
"That sounds risky," she said.
"It is. Any professional sports career is risky. Barely any of the people in college for football actually end up in the league."
"Only the best?"
"Yeah, and the ones lucky enough not to get injured.”
"I hope you get in. I know how much being making it into the pros meant to you." She broke her brownie in two, eating another piece.
"Thanks. I hope so, too."
"Looks like we're both where we want to be," she said with a small smile. If she meant here with her eating brownies, then yeah, I agreed.
"In some ways," I said. I thought I saw her blush.
I asked her what courses she had picked up for summer session. I liked to think I had at least a slight working knowledge of psychology from talking to her about her school stuff. She avoided talking about my deployment when I'd mention it, but loosened up. The sun moved and we moved the blanket with it. The timid way she started lingered, but it wasn't unbearable. Two hours later, she had to head home.
"I had a good time," she said. She helped me fold the blanket back up.
"Thanks for coming. I want to see you again, Ron." Uncertainty crossed her face and she bit her lower lip a little.
"I don't know," she said.
"Anything. I'll take anything, Ron. I'll walk you to class in the morning if you'll let me. I just want to see you again." She paused. What was she about to say? I wasn't too good to beg her for this.
"Are you free Friday night?" she asked. I had to wait a couple beats to stop myself from cheering.
"I will be," I said. "Dinner?"
"As friends," she said firmly. I bit my tongue. Don't argue with her, she already said yes. Don't make her change her mind.
"I'll pick you up," I said.
"No, I'll drive. Wait a minute. How do you know where my new place is?" she asked.
"I asked Tiff," I admitted.
"What else did you ask her?" she asked.
"Whether you were happy." She paused again, looking down for a second.
"Why would you want to know that?"
"Because I care about you. I needed to know-"
"Whether I ever got over when you dumped me?" she interrupted. Her voice wasn't accusing me of anything; she sounded neutral, but some pain came through.
"How you were doing since I hadn't seen you in a long time," I said. "Ron, I need you to know that I never stopped caring about you. I know what I did, and I can't apologize enough for making you think there was a time that I didn't."
"I just don't want you to have expectations for this," she said. "I agreed to see you, but what happened isn't going to be reversed after one date."
"I know that. I'm just glad that you're giving me a chance. Since it's a date, let me pick you up," I tried. She sighed, running her hand through her hair. I wanted to do it, too, but I had lost the privilege to touch her like that a year ago.
"Okay," she said. Thank fuck she was on board. I told her I'd pick her up at seven thirty Friday night. She nodded – not that enthusiastic, but it was still a yes.
"Can I walk you to your car?" I asked.
"Sure, we're going the same way anyway," she said. We walked side by side. My hand brushed the back of hers accidentally, and she silently crossed her arms across her chest. Fuck, that stung, I realized, miles away from this girl who was right next to me where the hell I was. I was back to square one, maybe less than that. I was sure of what I felt, but that was because it was easy for me. I hadn't been the one who had had to hear from my boyfriend of almost three years that he didn't love me anymore out of the blue.
"Thank you for coming to see me," I said again as we walked up to her car.
"I'm not going to lie to you. Up until one thirty, I wasn't sure I was."
"Can I ask what changed your mind?" I asked, wishing I didn't as soon as it came out of my mouth. But I needed to hear it. The lies I had told her before I left were the reason she was here like this now, scared of me.
"Something told me you were being sincere. For that, I figured you at least deserved a chance to say what you needed to say."
"What about the date?"
"If you wanna test your luck, I'll cancel it," she threatened. She was smiling a little and her voice was light. It was something. I'd take a tepid smile over tears any day. That bit of fire, too? That was her, my girl. We said our goodbyes, and I waited till she had driven away to get into my car and head home.
I dropped the basket onto the kitchen counter when I got home. First day it wasn't full of food I'd have to eat myself. Today was a good day, I thought. It was a win. A small one. One which depended on what happened Friday, but I was taking it. I was back in.
Chapter Sixteen
Veronica
Tiffany had called me saying she was coming over that afternoon. The knock at the door came right on cue. I turned the television off and went to get it. Since it was only her, I didn't care that I was in my pajamas with my hair in a bun. She breezed in, dressed like she had had places to go during the day. I had had places to go during the day, too, but my apartment was a strict comfort-only zone. The jeans and bra came off the second I walked through the door.
I was about to ask her how she was when I noticed the look on her face. She was grinning so hard she could split her cheeks.
"Why are you in such a good mood?"
"Why aren't you in a better one?" I looked at her blankly. "You have a date tomorrow."
"I know, that still doesn't tell me why you’re so thrilled."
"So, you aren't excited?" she asked. We made our way to the couch. My dining table was crowded with books and photocopies, but I was taking a break.
"It's your brother; we went out for almost three years."
"That was in the past, you're new people now."
"Different versions of the same people," I said to her, "so no. He can't surprise me at this point. I know him pretty well."
"A lot can change in a year," she said.
"If you know something, tell me now."
"Nothing," she said innocently, "I'm just excited.
"You know that's not normal, right?"
"I've been rooting for you since the beginning. I'm excited the two of you are finally talking again."
"That's all we're doing – talking."
"Of course it is," she said, grinning.
"Stop looking at me like that."
"Just admit you're excited, too."
"I'm not. This isn't new. He isn't new. It's just been a long time."
"So you haven't been thinking about what you're going to wear?" she asked.
I paused. I had a pretty solid wardrobe. I didn't like spending on new stuff, just getting a couple investment pieces a few times a year. But now that she had mentioned it, I hadn't really thought about what I was going to wear.
"I'll dig something up," I said lightly.
"This isn't a date that you just dig something up to wear.”
"We used to go out together. I'm not trying to make a fake first impression. He knows what I look like with no makeup on in pajamas. I don't need to impress him."
"That's no excuse not to try. You have to make an effort. That is how you keep a man," she said matter-of-factly.
"How do I keep something that isn't even mine?"
"Not with that attitude. First, you need to open your eyes because you still somehow think the two of you aren't getting back together."
"We'll see what happens when it happens," I sighed. I didn't want any pressure. That was one of the conditions of this date even happening. It had to be casual, no expectations more than just talking and shari
ng a meal as two people who had been close in the past.
"You still have to try," she said.
"I will. Tomorrow, I swear I'll wear false lashes."
"I mean for real. Let's go out and buy something."
"A new dress for this? No."
"Come on."
"What’s wrong with what I own?"
"He's seen it all before, that's what," she said, smirking.
"No. Not a good enough reason to do it."
"We could make it a whole day. Shop, get our nails done, it'll be fun."
"I'm not spending money on a new dress."
"You've barely quit working since school let out, and then you'll be right back in class on Monday again."
She had a point. I sort of hated that she did, but class was starting next week and it had been a little while since I had spent money on a manicure. I was happy to do my nails at home since I could save money that way, but it was nice to let people take care of you sometimes. Getting them done today, just before the date with Roman, didn't mean that I was doing it for him. No. I was doing it for me, like Tiff said. There was no shame in doing something nice for yourself when you deserved it.
"I'll come with you, but I still won't spend money on a dress," I insisted.
"That's all I want," she said, popping up to her feet. "Grab a shower, and we'll leave." I resented that she thought I wasn't clean just because I was wearing pajamas, but let her have it. I changed and coaxed my hair into a simple up-do, not really wanting to brush it out into a lion's mane. We took separate cars, starting at the nail salon.
We ended up at the mall next. I didn't want to really buy anything, so I just followed Tiff's lead, following her into a boutique where she claimed she had seen something that she wanted to get. She was tall, long limbed, and willowy, so she could have just skipped the school thing entirely and taken up modeling. Shopping with her was fun, but clothes just didn't sit the same on me. I was slightly above average height, but still three inches shorter than her. I wore a size six, but I wasn't walking down anyone's runway anytime soon.
I kept her company as she looked through the racks, looking a little, too – at least that much was free. She pulled a coral-colored dress off a rack and held it against herself to see how long it would be.
"What do you think?" she asked me.
"A little short," I offered. On a shorter girl it wouldn't have been, but on her, it would border on salacious. She had the legs for it, though. She sighed and put it back on the rack. I remembered her saying she had wanted something specific, but it seemed to me that we were just browsing at this point. I wasn't complaining, just a little suspicious. She had taught me already that she couldn't be trusted when it came to her brother.
"What about this?" she asked, holding out a red one. It had a keyhole cut out in the chest and one similar in the back. It looked about knee length and the skirt had some movement to it.
"Same problem as the last."
"What about on you?" she said, holding it up against me.
"I told you I wasn't getting anything."
"Just try it on," she said. "That's free."
I didn't want to be grouchy, so I relented. I’d try it on if that meant she would leave me alone about getting a new dress. She waited outside the changing room stall for me as I slipped into it. It was my size, which didn't matter since I wasn't getting it anyway, but I looked at myself in the mirror wearing it. The skirt skimmed over my hips and hit me two or three inches above the knee. I could see my bra from the rear and front cutout details but I could always go without. I did a slow spin, checking myself out.
I looked kind of hot.
"Can I see?" Tiff asked, poking her head into the stall. Her jaw dropped. "You have to get it."
"How much does it cost?" I asked warily. My resolve to not get anything at all had shaken a little bit. She checked the price attached to the label for me.
"It's an investment," she said instead of giving me a number. I pulled it off, checking myself. Sixty eight dollars. It could have been worse. but that wasn't good.
"Seventy dollars for a dress?" I said to her like she was the one who had priced it.
"It's for a special occasion."
"Not that special."
"You have to get it. Just take it home and see how you feel tomorrow. Keep the tags on and if you regret getting it, return it," she said simply. I got dressed, putting the dress back on the hanger. I didn't want to tell her that I liked her idea. The dress was calling to me, and her plan would work great if I stayed within the return window. She waited for me to come out of the dressing room.
"So?" she said expectantly.
"I'll get it," I said grudgingly, like it was really hurting me that much to buy myself a beautiful dress. From the feel of the fabric and its construction, it seemed worth the almost $70 price tag, but we'd see whether I ended up here tomorrow giving it back. Tiff did a joyful little jump and cheer like I was getting it for her. It was nice that it made her happy; she just wanted me to have fun. I didn't know what that meant and a lot of the time didn't care to unwind. I knew she was looking out for me in her own way.
"What now?" I asked, letting her joy lift my spirits.
"Now? Shoes."
It was just getting dark by the time I got back home. I let myself in and dumped my purse in my room with the shopping bags. I never splurged like this on clothes. I had ended up getting a pair of heels under Tiffany's coercion to go with the dress I had gotten. After getting the dress though, she didn't really have to convince me that hard to get them. I picked up the first bag and pulled the dress out again. It had been pretty in the store and fit like a dream. I looked at it now, waiting for it to feel frivolous or for something in me to rebel against it.
The soft, high-quality material felt great under my fingers and made me feel amazing when I had it on. I had gotten it for a date, but if I wanted, it would work great for any semi-formal function that had to attend. Dressed up or down, I could even wear it to drinks or a casual meeting.
I stood in front of my mirror and held it against myself, smiling at my reflection. He'll love it, I thought. Woah, where had that come from?
It didn't matter what he thought. Not really, but now I was sort of looking at the dress and wondering what his reaction would be when he saw it. It hit me right a couple inches above the knee, and I coyly pulled it higher up my body to raise the hem a little. I started thinking about what underwear I had to wear with it since the cut-out would show my bra, whether I really wanted to wear the heels that I had gotten to wear with it or use a pair I already owned.
I started thinking makeup and hair, worrying suddenly what he would think when he saw the whole thing altogether. I was nervous. I had been on dates since the breakup, I had even gone out with Roman, thinking it would be another guy, but I hadn't gotten butterflies thinking about what a guy would think about my outfit like this before.
It wasn't a big deal, I had been on dates with Roman before, but something about the newness despite the fact that we knew each other better than anyone else made me giddy. I felt like I was going on a first date with the boy I had been crushing on for months. It felt innocent and exciting. I liked it.
Chapter Seventeen
Roman
We were going out for dinner, and I was picking her up. There was no way she could act like it wasn't a date now. Friends my ass. We were friends, I considered her my best friend but I wasn't stopping there with her. We were going the whole way. I wanted it all.
Tonight was the night. We'd be alone together, and she'd feel like nothing changed, like we could just go back. We hadn't changed enough to not want each other anymore, to not be compatible anymore. It didn't matter what had happened over the year that had passed – what we felt was still the same and if it was, then we'd figure the rest of the shit out.
I buttoned my shirt up and tucked it in, heading for the door. I felt good. I thought I'd be nervous, but I was just excited. Any time I spent with Veronica w
as time I enjoyed, but I had a good feeling about tonight. She had been open about seeing me again, that meant maybe that old magic would kick in and she'd just go with the flow, let go and let me remind her what it had been like with us, why we had to get it back.
I got into my car, heading to her place. This was just one of many to come. I had my fingers crossed. Knowing it wouldn't hurt, I stopped by the grocery store and picked up some white roses. If I had to woo her all over again, I would do it.
It was a little early when I knocked at her door, but she answered it almost immediately. She was in a long, silky nightgown. Her hair was straight which had always thrown me off a little when she did it. It was curly naturally, long gold and honey strands, soft as silk.
"You're early," she said.
"Should I leave and come back?" I asked, smiling. She returned it.
"No. I just need to put my dress on. Do you mind waiting?" she asked.
"Good things take time, I get it. These are for you," I said, handing her the flowers. She took the bouquet, her cheeks blushing pink.
"Strong start," she said. "Keep it up, flattery will get you everywhere." She let me walk into her apartment. It was small and clean. On one side was the dining area with a table that looked family sized and on the other was her living room. There was a patterned rug under the coffee table, a couch, a TV, bookshelf, and some end tables. She had disappeared into what I guessed was the kitchen before coming back out with a vase full of water for the flowers.
"I take second chances seriously," I said.
"Good. They only come around once," she said. I closed the couple of feet between us where she was near the dining table putting down the vase.
"You look beautiful," I said because she was.
"I'm not even dressed yet."
"Doesn't change the fact that it's true." It was still a little surreal, being with her again. Standing there with her, her green eyes looking up at me, I couldn't help reaching a hand out and tucking her hair back behind her ear. It had been way too long since I had touched her.
"Thank you," she said quietly. The tension wasn't uncomfortable, but it was building. "Give me five minutes, I'll be right out."