by Isabel Jolie
Olivia
“Hey, Olivia. What’s up?” Lindsey plops down in the chair across from me. It’s Thursday, early afternoon, and I’ve been plowing through reading assignments for the past two hours. It takes a few seconds for my vision to adjust when I look up from my laptop.
“Hey. Homework.” I check my watch for the time out of habit. “About to head downtown for my internship. How about you?” I’ve seen Lindsey quite a bit this week. Sometimes on campus, but mostly here since we both love the same coffee shop.
“Same thing. Have an exam this afternoon. Stopped by for some energy. So, you never told me. How are things going with the guy? Tell me I was right. He wasn’t blowing you off.”
I sigh as I gather my things together. “Unfortunately, I was correct.”
“Huh? No way!” Disbelief radiates off her. Frizzy pieces of hair stick out all around her head, giving her this crazed, rolled-out-of-bed appearance.
“Yeah. Crickets.” He ghosted me. Yes, he’s away on business, but it’s Thursday, and I haven’t heard a word since he waved goodbye Monday morning. If that’s not a blow-off, I’m not sure what is. You don’t have the kind of weekend we had and then go into radio silence. Unless you’re a flavor of the week kind of guy, which, according to Delilah, he has that reputation.
Lindsey smiles and tosses her hip out to the side, getting comfortable in her stance. “I don’t believe it. Wait and see. He’ll be in touch.”
“No. Trust me. I have this knack. It’s a talent. Jerk magnet. Right here.” Only he didn’t seem like a jerk. He seemed so real. Not like a player. Damn me and my judgement.
“Well, is he not answering your calls and texts? I don’t understand.”
“Lindsey, I’m not calling him. We had a date on Sunday. It’s Thursday. He hasn’t called me.”
“Oh, you’re one of those girls.”
“What does that mean?”
“You put it all on him. Wait for him to call.”
“Well, yes. I’m not going to chase a guy. He canceled our date on Monday, and I haven’t heard a word from him since.”
“You should text him. Isn’t he some super business guy? He’s probably just been busy.”
I roll my eyes. I’ve been feeding myself the he’s probably just busy reasoning for days. That’s bullshit. You make time for your priorities. It’s not surprising that I’m low on his list. I’ve been low on other people’s priority list my whole life.
I throw my backpack on my shoulder and stand. Lindsey jumps up and stands close to me. I take a step back, reclaiming my personal space. She places her hands on my shoulders, effectively holding me in place. “Listen to me. Trust me. Send him a text. Reach out. He’ll appreciate it.”
She looks like a train wreck. Smeared eyeliner. Eyebrow hair growing all outside the lines. Has she been going to raves all week? “Thanks for the advice, but that’s not my style.”
Still gripping my shoulders, her lips curl into a devious grin. “You could offer him a threesome. That would get him to call you.”
I break away from her and head out the door. Her suggestive grin sends a bolt of nausea through me. It’s time to drop this little joke. “Bye, Lindsey!” I shout as I head outside.
I’m wearing my prized, comfortable black Prada heels which were a gift from my grandmother, jeans, a white t-shirt, long necklace, and a blazer. It’s my ‘yep, I’m a hip intern’ outfit. I need to drop off some research I completed for Esprit Corp and then walk the couple of blocks to get to the office.
My stomach somersaults as the elevator rises. I focus on breathing to quiet my nerves. He’s still in San Francisco. I should not be nervous. I’ll leave them with his admin and head right out.
Janet won’t know he’s blown me off. Maybe that’s why my nerves are rumbling and I’m feeling on edge. If Janet does know he’s ghosted me, I’ll get that pity look. The look I hate. I do not want pity.
Yeah, I was aiming a little too high when I thought something could happen between Sam and me. But I don’t need pity. We went out, like, twice. We are still in the perfectly acceptable blow-off stage.
I walk down the hall and see unmistakable surprise on Janet’s face. Oh, yes, security didn’t call up to let her know I was coming up. I’m on the vendor list now and told him I was dropping a package off, not meeting anyone. I give her a warm smile, aiming to set her at ease and get the hell out. I hold out the thick envelope. “Hi, Janet. I’m delivering research from Goldwater Brooke.”
She returns my smile and takes the package. “If you wait a minute, Sam’s about to finish a meeting. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
I draw in slow, steady breaths. So, not out of town. “How did his trip go?” I ask. Her confused expression tells me everything.
“What trip?”
That motherfucker. Wow. I mean, I knew he was blowing me off, but it didn’t occur to me he lied about his business trip to get out of our date. I don’t answer her but spin around and rush to the elevators. I’m reeling. I push the button to go down. As the elevator doors open, so does Sam’s office door. He smiles when he sees me, then his face transitions to alarm when I glare back at him.
There are women who would smile and act like all is okay, but that’s not who I am. It’s not okay to act like you are completely into someone and then not call or text. I deserve more than that. Fine if I’m not his priority, but if he wanted to cancel our date Monday, he could have told me. Something like, “Hey, this is moving too fast. I need some time.” That would have been acceptable. Not the emergency business trip lie. Motherfucker.
I’m a couple of blocks down on Broadway when I hear my name. I turn and see Sam speed-walking down the sidewalk.
I turn back and sprint toward my destination. Tears sting my eyes. I do not need this. He wanted to ghost me. The least he could do is let me leave without confronting me.
I almost fall backward when he grabs my backpack and pulls hard. I spin, ready to fight. “What the fuck are you doing?” I shout. The street vendor selling nuts peers over at us. We’ve got an audience. Good. Let’s go, asshole.
He steps back, arms out in a defensive gesture. “Hey, Olivia.” Concern etches his face. “What’s wrong?”
Is he fucking kidding me? “You lied to me.” Thank the gods I actually know he lied to me about his trip. Telling him I’m pissed he didn’t call would make me sound weak.
He angles his head and squints, and wrinkles form on his brow. “About the trip?”
“Yes, about the trip!” What else has he lied to me about? “If you didn’t want to go on a date with me on Monday, you could have just said so. You didn’t have to lie to me.”
“No, look. I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can.” I turn and charge toward my internship. I don’t need explanations. A lie is a lie. I’m just glad I saw through his whole act before I fell for him.
He rushes along beside me. He grabs my arm, but I snatch it away and yell, “Do. Not. Touch. Me!”
Matching my stride, he keeps up with me along the sidewalk.
“Stop for one minute. Just one minute.” His tone is just shy of demanding.
We are approaching the entrance to Goldwater Brooke. If I run inside, he will likely follow me, and I’ll either have to listen to him or risk making a scene. Or I can give him a minute outside. Ensure no one I work with sees us. I stop and step to the side near the building. I hold out my index finger. “One minute. One.”
“Okay. Damn, spitfire.” He grins.
“Forty-five seconds.”
“I thought you were in danger, and I needed some time to think through what to do. Risk assessment. I should have called you, but I wasn’t sure I could see you without putting you at risk.”
“What?” I’ve dated some losers before, but this story has to take the cake. At least the fucker didn’t tell me to calm down.
“Can I explain?”
I look at my wrist, more for dramatic effect than to actually learn the time. “I a
m due for my internship in five minutes.”
“That works.”
I roll my hand in a silent gesture for him to begin while glaring at him.
“I’m not quite sure how to start.”
I huff. I don’t have time for this. Excuses. Male excuses.
“I’m gonna blurt it out. No sugar coating. There’s a woman who became obsessed with me. Almost two years ago. I have a restraining order against her. I have security following me because of her.” He turns and looks down the sidewalk and stretches out his arm. He’s pointing at a man in a black suit standing at the intersection farthest from us. He nods at Sam.
I am familiar with the need for security. My uncle has hired security before for events. He’s never had security for himself, but I know at one point he considered it for his wife and kids. My aunt vetoed it.
I study Sam. My anger starts to subside, but I still don’t see how any of this explains this week. Is this woman a danger? To him? “Is she dangerous?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. She has an obsessive personality. She stalked me for around two years, to the point she lost her job. She’s antisocial. Delusional. I don’t know if she would ever turn to violence, but it’s a risk my company mitigates by hiring security for me.”
“What does this have to do with you lying to me about going on a business trip?”
“Bill believes she has started following you.”
“What?”
“I found out Monday, and my first reaction was to put some distance between us. I don’t want to put you in danger.”
“Let me see if I understand this. You think this woman might be a danger to me. Because of you?”
He slowly nods.
“And so you don’t want to see me because you don’t want to put me in danger?”
“Well, that’s what I was thinking. But then my buddy Jason and I were talking, and we came up with a different plan.”
“Go on.” If he’s making it up, it’s an outlandish excuse. Creative. I’ll give him that.
“Yes. I’m gonna hire security to follow her. I don’t want security trailing you. I hate knowing some guy is always watching me. Hate my loss of privacy. You’re in grad school. I don’t want to invade your life.” He reaches out and caresses my face. “I want you to be untouched by this. I don’t think she’s dangerous, but I can’t risk you getting hurt. Can you get that?”
“Yes.” He’s making sense. His touch soothes me. My muscles relax, and the anger that had been about to violently explode within me dissipates. He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me.
His story replays in my mind. I don’t want to be the whiny girl. But I have to ask. “Well, I get not wanting to be seen with me while you figured this out. But why didn’t you call me? Or text?”
He bites his lower lip before answering. “I wanted to. So much. At first, I didn’t see how I could still see you, but I didn’t want to tell you that or tell you what was going on. I didn’t want to scare you. I thought not talking to you was the best plan until I figured it out.”
“When did you figure it out?”
“Last night.”
“It’s almost the end of day Thursday.” Now I’m whining, but I’ve spent the whole week thinking he was ghosting me. I went from being in the clouds to the pits.
“Yeah, well, I wanted to clear my plan with Bill.”
“Who’s Bill?”
“Our head of security. You’ve met him.” Oh, yeah, I remember the interrogation. Mr. Gun Holster. “I also thought that given I’ve been MIA, a little surprise might be needed to win you back over.”
“A little surprise?”
“Can you miss class tomorrow?”
“Not my morning classes.” I could miss class. Tomorrow, I happen to know my professor is out and the TA will essentially be reading notes that will be emailed out. But I’m reeling from what he’s told me. I’m not willing to cancel my plans to make time for him. I need space to think it through. Evaluate. I can’t trust my emotions on this.
“What time tomorrow can I pick you up?”
“Pick me up?”
“I want to take you away this weekend.”
“Where?”
“A surprise.”
He leans down and kisses me. My barriers break. Those blue orbs mesmerize me, and I find myself wanting to dive in.
“Okay.” It’s just a weekend.
“And what about tonight? Can I take you out to dinner?”
Alarm bells go off. My muscles tense. No. I can’t let him think I’m readily available. If I hadn’t caught him in his lie, would he even be asking me out for tonight? No. Going away for a weekend is enough. “No. I need to study.” Now who’s lying?
He studies me. Then he backs me up against the wall and kisses me as if I’m his long-lost love. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.” No. I walk backward, away from him. I’m not going to let him change my mind on this. I need time to figure this out without a flurry of emotions twisting reason.
“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at your apartment. Noon?”
I nod then wave goodbye as I enter the building. A sense of frustration rises that I didn’t stand up to him. That I agreed to a weekend away. I tell myself I’ll evaluate it all this evening, when I’m calmer. If I don’t feel good about it, I’ll text him and cancel. If he can text and cancel, so can I.
Chapter 17
Olivia
This unexpected trip out of town has me scrambling to wash laundry and missing my Friday morning classes. Now, with laundry done, I’m standing here looking at my clean clothes with no idea what to pack and less than an hour before he picks me up. He told me to pack comfortable, warm clothes. Therefore, he’s not flying me off to an island. It could be Paris or almost anywhere in Europe. November calls for warm clothes in many European locations. Of course, it could be Chicago or San Francisco. He goes to San Francisco all the time, and he did mention he has one business meeting to attend. The temptation to cancel rises. Avoiding this whole colossal time suck would be smart and a much more relaxing way to slip into the weekend.
Three dresses, four pairs of jeans of varying shades of blue, a lingerie mishmash pile, several sleeveless silk tops, mini-skirts, long skirts, and long sleeve tops crowd my bed and chair, and boots, sandals, fuck-me heels, running shoes, and platform options litter the floor. The jumble of clothes, my attempt at finding suitable outfits to pack, reminds me of my childhood room. My mom snapping, “Clean that room.” When I was sixteen, I’d had a similar clothes fiasco when trying to pick out my outfit for my first date, suffering from a world of indecisiveness.
“What’s going on?” Mom stands in my doorway, striking her toe on the hardwood, a light tap emphasizing the slight jerks of the pointed heel.
Tim will be here in twenty minutes, and I have no idea what to wear. My first date. Ever. With a senior. Every outfit looks too young, too sophomoric, too nowhere-in-his-league.
“I thought you were going out tonight?” Anger saturates her words.
I finger a white blouse I’d been considering wearing. “I am. What do you think of this with jeans?” I’d already had it on once but worried it might be too plain.
She stares at the blouse for one quick second then rolls her eyes, annoyance radiating through her frown. “It’ll do. I need you gone in thirty minutes. I have a friend coming over.” She spins away, sending a flurry of platinum blonde hair fluttering behind her shoulder. As she charges down the hall, she bellows, “And clean that room!” Of course she has a friend coming over. My father is out of town. By the time Tim arrives, my cheeks are red and splotchy, but I am no longer crying.
I hear a knock on my door and freeze. Sam wouldn’t show up early, would he? I’m nowhere near ready. The knocking gets louder. Loud enough to be heard by my neighbors. I rush to the door and swing it open.
Delilah tosses her arms in the air and half shouts, “Surprise! I’m here to help.”
I should tell her t
hat she’s being silly, she shouldn’t be using her lunch break to come up to the upper east side and help me. But there’s another part of me that feels immediate relief that I have someone to run my packing decisions by. That part wins out, and my arms wrap around my friend, so extraordinarily grateful.
“Thank you so much. I’m second-guessing everything.” I grab her hand and pull her back to my bedroom. The room looks a bit like someone opened my closet and threw everything out on the bed and across my chairs. “This is insane. I rock at packing. Like, I could teach classes on effective packing. And look at this.” I stomp my foot as frustration overwhelms me. This is not me. Why am I letting this guy get me so worked up?
Delilah exudes calmness and control. “We’ll get it done. Take me through the outfits you’ve packed so far. And you don’t know where you’re going, but he says to pack warm clothes, right?”
I nod. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this side of Delilah. She’s all business. She taps her cheek with her index finger as she speaks. “No ski trip, wrong time of year. He’d tell you if you needed bathing suits. I’d bet he’s taking you to a city, so let’s plan for that. Gotta be flexible in case you’re going to some remote location where you never leave the cabin.”
She makes a few adjustments to what I’ve set aside. In less than twenty minutes, I’m zipping up my suitcase, shoulders back, standing tall. I’ve packed interchangeable pieces, mostly prepared for a casual weekend, but ready for a restaurant scene too. I’ve even packed running clothes. Thanks to my friend, I’ve got this.
“You are the best. The absolute best.” I hug her to make sure she understands how much this means to me. I didn’t ask her to show up and help. In fact, she offered, and I told her not to bother. She heard the panic in my voice, I guess, because she disregarded everything I said and showed up in my time of need. Not many people in my life do that for me.
“Yeah, you and Anna are saying that this weekend. You two are gonna owe me. I’ve just gotta figure out how I’m gonna get payback.” She grins.
“Anna? Is everything okay?”
“Dog sitting. It’s me and Chewie all weekend. Jackson’s taking her away this weekend too.”