Blank Pages

by Alice Darlington

  “While I one hundred percent agree with you, guys don’t usually think like that, nor do a lot of girls these days. Dating is a different ball game than what you’re thinking.” Though I was sure Jules was just trying to be the practical realist, I had the urge to roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at her in all her infinite twenty-first century knowledge.

  “Not everything is so black and white, Lex. I agree with you, I do, but Jules is right, too. I think you need to talk to him—talk and actually listen to what he has to say. Give him a chance. Even if you don’t get together, you can keep the door open for the future. You obviously like him.”

  “I guess,” I finally agreed, if only partially.

  “You went to the freaking Halloween party. You hate the Halloween party.” Jules half laughed.

  “What did she call it last year? ‘Victoria’s Secret’s B-list fashion show’?” That made me laugh just a little.

  Although their words sank in for days and I did decide to give Ben the benefit of a conversation, I wasn’t about to call him or see him to extend the invitation. I skipped history on Thursday just to stay away from him. It was childish, but I couldn’t drag myself in there with enough strength to face him. Obviously, I couldn’t keep that up if I wanted to graduate.

  CHAPTER 13

  AS I CONFINED myself to our apartment, Jules was there less and less. When she was there, she bounced around, delighted with life, continuously annoying me. There was only one thing that could make her that cheerful. She had herself a new man. They had met at—you guessed it—Smashed a couple Thursdays ago and had been out five times in three weeks. For Jules, that was basically engagement.

  I was happy for her, in the normal best friend way where I’m glad she’s happy but secretly a little sad because I needed her home with me. It’s a lot easier to be a single man-hater when your friends are single man-haters. Solidarity, sister. There is strength in numbers, and currently, my number was only one.

  When I came home after a long journalism class and an even longer session with Sherri, expecting to find the silence of an empty apartment, I was surprised to find Jules there, smiling wide and dressed to impress. Actually, it was more like dressed to provoke some serious cardiac arrest judging by the length of her black dress—or lack thereof.

  “You must really like him,” I said as she took the curling iron to her already perfect hair. She hardly ever broke out the big guns. The big guns I was referring to were the two massive ones attached to her chest, which were now effectively broken out and standing at attention.

  “Oh, Lex, he’s great. He’s really great.” I was almost certain she blushed, and I was even more certain I’d never seen her blush before. This was different for her.

  “He must be for you to skip biochemistry,” I teased.

  “Well, he’s super busy at night, so it’s the only time I can see him.” Her explanation made the hairs on my arms stand up. Call me paranoid or bitter from the televised relationship woes I was much too invested in, but it just didn’t sound right.

  “What’s he doing at night? I thought he worked at a bank. They usually work days,” I pointed out.

  “He’s been working late. He’s got a big project due,” she said easily, without a doubt in her mind. She was already hurrying out the door, but I made a note to ask her about it later. Jules had a tendency to be naive when it came to men, naive and trusting.

  I was binge-watching medical dramas on the couch when she finally made it in. My eyes were strained from forcing myself to stay awake, even though it wasn’t even seven yet. My blankets were too cuddly. All in the name of friendship, I kept telling myself.

  “How was your date?” I asked as she took off her heels and fell onto the couch with me.

  “Wonderful,” she gushed. “He’s borderline perfect, and you know I don’t throw that word out lightly. He’s charming and chivalrous. He opens my doors, pays for my meals, and lets me pick the dessert we share. For real, I’m almost ready to pop out the L word.”

  For Jules, that was a big deal. As far as I knew, she’d never used the L word with a boyfriend. She reserved love for pizza delivery and buy one, get one free sales.

  “Wow, you really like him.”

  “What’s not to like? He’s perfect.” I sincerely had my doubts. I’m not a skeptic—most days—but I trust my gut instincts, and my gut instincts were telling me this guy was a little less than Prince Charming. I made the decision right then to meet him so I could get a better idea of him and all his infinite perfectness.

  I was gifted the opportunity the next week when Jules came home from class and zeroed in on me with a goal—if, you know, gifts come in the form of unwanted dates.

  I was catching up on some homework with Tay when she aimed her focus at me. “I sense you are here with hidden motives. Be gone from me, peasant!”

  “You’ve been watching that show again. Lex, repeat after me: ‘It is not 1958. I am not royalty. There are no peasants.’”

  “And yet here you are, begging.”

  “Okay, so I was thinking—” Jules began.

  “No.”

  “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

  “I don’t need to. You’ve got that begging face, and the only reason you’d beg is if I really wouldn’t want to do it, so no.” I’d been on the receiving end of that face too many times. I was ashamed to say it was rather effective.

  “Please, Lex! His brother’s in town, and the only way he can see me tonight is if it’s a double date. If you’re not going to date Ben, you might as well go out with this guy.”

  “No, Jules. Sorry, but no.” Not sorry, not even a little bit, especially after she brought up Ben, who’d I hadn’t seen for a week and a half.

  “Come on, you never date. You need the practice.” She really was begging, her hands folded prayer-style in her lap.

  “See, you already know this is going to be a disaster.”

  “Okay, so he’s a little overweight…and losing some hair, but since he shaves it all off you can’t really tell.” As if that didn’t put the nail in the coffin of my hope that was now dead, dead, dead, she just kept talking. “And he may or may not have just gotten divorced.”

  The scoff came out with no hopes of me holding it back.

  “It’ll make a good story at least. It’ll be something good to write about one of these days. Call it inspiration.”

  “You can call it what you like, but I refuse to be subjected to a date that has zero potential. I’ve told you, I can’t deliver the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ line. It’s totally him.” I was already going—I knew that, and she probably knew it too. What can I say? I’m a sucker for my best friends. It would, at least, give me the opportunity to spy on Mr. Perfect.

  “Please, please, please!” Her bottom lip was popped out in a pout. “You haven’t had a good date in forever. I’m not even sure you remember how to date. You really do need the practice.” Insulting me was not the way to persuade me.

  “I know how to date,” I replied defensively. She only raised her eyebrows at me. “Seriously? I know how to date. Don’t I?”

  I looked to Tay for confirmation. She’d been silent so far. She looked at me and kind of laughed with a sigh. “I don’t know, Lex. I think maybe you’re too open on first dates. That’s not how people date these days.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked her.

  “Tuck in the nerd—tuck it in tight,” Jules answered for her.

  “Why would I do that? It gives false impressions.”

  “Not all the way,” Tay corrected. “There has to be some truth to it. It’s just, I think you come on too strong and scare them off. The first date is just to determine if you have chemistry. Maybe by the third date you can decide how open you can be with your obsessive nerd qualities.”

  “Trust me, he’s holding back his bad qualities, too,” Jules insists.

  “But if he’s being fake and I’m being fake, how do we know if we even like eac
h other?” This was why I didn’t date—these stupid games that made dating seem like calculus and psychology got together and made a very complicated evil baby spawn.

  “It’s not being fake. It’s more like learning the good qualities first in hopes that when the bad ones come out, they won’t seem so bad.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Yep,” Tay agreed, “but it is how dating goes these days. You hide the bad and exaggerate the good.”

  “The nerd is the good, though, and I don’t want to waste my time on a second date with anyone who thinks otherwise. The brain is the most important sex organ,” I protested. Yeah, maybe I was a little nerdy. Maybe I owned a wand from Ollivanders and maybe I partook in second breakfast. Maybe I adored Annikan Skywalker, pre-Darth Vader. Maybe I was Team Edward, and maybe I was Divergent, and maybe I believed in the Mockingjay, and maybe I fell down a rabbit hole from time to time. That nerd part of me, which I admitted made up a good portion of my DNA—it made me who I was, and honestly, I had no patience for anyone who didn’t appreciate that. There were things in a relationship I was willing to compromise on. My die-hard nerdiness was not one of them.

  I refused to dumb myself down to get a guy, and if a guy wasn’t attracted to a strong, independent, slightly nerdy woman, he was no man for me. He was no man at all. Dumb isn’t attractive. Maybe my standards were too high, but if we don’t raise our standards, men won’t raise their effort. It’s cause and effect, a cat-and-mouse game.

  Unfortunately in this world, I was the mouse. Maybe there were no cats interested in chasing me; I got it, but those cats would tire of chasing those easy mice, and they’d eventually rise to the challenge. Probably not in college, though, and I needed to come to terms with that. It takes a man to pursue a lady—a lion, not a pussycat. College was full of pussycats.

  CHAPTER 14

  I was seriously one bad date away from adopting twenty-two cats. I couldn’t resist those moody felines. I hadn’t chosen the spinster life, honestly. It had beaten me into submission. I should have taken up knitting and fully embraced the lifestyle.

  Even if I hadn’t already been hating the day, the thought of sitting through a history class with Ben was enough to make me give up on happiness, at least until I could squeeze in an afternoon nap. When he came through the old wooden door, pulling his dark shades from his face, my heart did something. Spasm? Seizure? Was that a flutter? Some serious sign of desire that I planned to keep firmly locked away in denial?

  Blame it all on the hormones.

  History dragged on. The chapter we were on was about the creation and implementation of the American government. I should have been paying attention, knowing there would be a quiz on it, but instead, all I could concentrate on was Ben sitting behind me, which seemed to be his self-assigned seat even if I was ignoring him.

  He tapped me on the shoulder as Dr. Kellar dismissed us. I stayed seated as my friends packed up and filed out, abandoning me. Okay, so they weren’t really my friends. I wasn’t even sure of their names, only what I called them in my head: girl with the pink backpack, spiked hair guy, guy who sleeps through lecture, and girl who very publicly makes out with her boyfriend before class. Okay, definitely not friends per se, and not even acquaintances. They were more like kindred spirits, and I wanted to beg all of them not to leave me alone. Couldn’t they read the sheer panic on my face? Maybe if we had actually been friends they would have been able to.

  Ben stayed behind me, waiting patiently for the last person to leave. When it was just the two of us left, I turned to him and started before he could. “You have to understand that I’m not good at this,” I told him, putting on armor for my weak heart. “I’ve never dated anyone for more than a couple months”—even that was a stretch—“and never very seriously. So, all this…it’s just new to me.” I paused, but he didn’t say anything, so I continued. “I probably shouldn’t have gotten as mad as I did about Halloween. It wasn’t a date. I get that, and I know it probably wouldn’t have been a big deal to other girls.” I shrugged, trying to downplay how much it had actually hurt. It was hard to sound like you were wrong when you didn’t actually think you were wrong.

  “I wasn’t going to go home with her, or kiss her—or anything.”

  “Uh, cool? I guess.” Was that supposed to make me feel better? Honestly, that possibility had never crossed my mind. My brain had probably blocked it out to protect my fragile ego.

  “I’m glad you got mad,” he said, surprising me. “I’ve always dated girls who didn’t care what I did, or were too afraid of breaking up that they pretended they didn’t. I don’t want that, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Was it too late to pretend it hadn’t hurt? “Well, regardless, I’m sorry for what I said.” I did mean that. “I just think we probably have different ideas of what dating means, and I think we just want different things.” Words just kept coming up like vomit, none of them actually getting my point across. “So this, whatever this is, or has been, I don’t know…” I was messing this all up. “I think being friends is good.”

  I stood up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, ready to leave.

  “Babe,” he said, tugging on my arm until I sat back down, either from the pull of his hand or the shock of him calling me ‘babe’ for the second time. “I don’t want to be just friends. This between us, this chemistry, I know you feel it. We can be good together.”

  He was partially right. We did have chemistry. No one had ever gotten my blood to run hot and my heart to beat fast like he did. At least, I assumed it was chemistry—either that or I was coming down with a bad case of the flu. Typically, I blamed it on his ridiculous good looks and my subpar social skills. To me, chemistry wasn’t enough. I wasn’t willing to put myself out there just for chemistry.

  “Haven’t you seen chemical reactions that make a very satisfying boom? It’s great for a minute, and then it destroys everything around it,” I told him, proud of the scientific knowledge I’d pulled out of nowhere.

  “If I’d known that party was going to ruin this, I wouldn’t have gone,” he said. His eyes locked onto mine, imploring me to believe him.

  “Can you give me a reason?” I asked, curious but not really knowing if I wanted the answer.

  “What?” he asked, confused.

  “Tell me why I should be okay with you dancing with a girl—a half-naked girl, to be specific. Tell me why you think that’s okay. Tell me why I should be okay with that.” He opened his mouth to answer, but I couldn’t stop. “And while you’re at it, tell me why men can’t seem to focus when bare flesh is exposed. Although that’s more of a question for humanity than you personally. But still, I’d like to know.” I had to refrain from tapping my foot.

  “I shouldn’t have done it. You shouldn’t be okay with it.” That wasn’t even an answer.

  “And if you had walked in on me dancing with a half-naked boy?” I didn’t even have to wait for him to speak to know his answer. His eyes went hard, and his mouth pressed into a grim line, his jaw locked tight. Of course—double standard. I just shook my head, not really knowing where else to go with this conversation.

  “Just give me a chance,” he pleaded.

  “You’re going to make me look stupid,” I told him, meaning it.

  “Is that what you’re worried about?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

  “No.” The tight shrug of my shoulders revealed how scared I really was. “I can handle that, I think, though I admit it’s not my favorite thing. I’m worried about hating myself after you make me look stupid.”

  Honestly, it wasn’t that I was afraid of the breakup, not exactly. I was more afraid of what was left after the breakup: the memories. Maybe for some people, they can appreciate remembering. I wasn’t that person, though. The emotions ran too deep. I didn’t want to continue to feel the love for someone who wasn’t there. I didn’t want to remember the happiness, to be reminded that I didn’t have it anymore. I’d be left with only the m
emories, and damn those things…they last forever.

  “What are you so afraid of?” he asked me. His eyes begged me to have an answer, but I really didn’t. I just shook my head, hoping my lack of answer would serve as an answer, but he wasn’t having it. “Lex, why are you afraid to give this a chance?”

  “Because I don’t do casual,” I blurted out before dropping my head to take a steady breath. “I want serious, Ben. I don’t do short-term flings. I don’t do things halfway, or half-heartedly. I don’t live my life that way.”

  “Okay,” he said hesitantly, kind of unsure. I saw the moment it clicked for him. “And you think I only do meaningless.” The hurt in his voice made my stomach upset. I knew if this conversation continued, I’d spend a lot of time in the bathroom later.

  “If history serves correctly, that’s what you’re accustomed to. I don’t want to be just another name on a list, Ben. That’s where my fears come from. It scares me that in a relationship, you could be the one for someone and them not be the one for you. It terrifies me to think I could give you all of me and it not be enough. Love is brutal like that.”

  “So that’s what you’re scared of? That you’ll fall in love with me and I’ll break you?”

  I’m was firm believer in fighting for your soul mate, for the love of your life. I also thought you shouldn’t waste time on people who didn’t appreciate you. The problem lies in telling which is which.

  “I think if you give enough of yourself to someone, they have the power to break you. A relationship is an exchange of power. A woman becomes a man’s weakness. A man becomes a woman’s strength.”

  “Maybe that’s true in a way, but you being my weakness doesn’t make you a flaw, and me being your strength doesn’t mean you’re weak without me. That’s the magic of it. That’s the fairy tale.”

  I wanted to believe in the fairy tale. I did, but I was a realist—one with very unrealistic dreams. I wanted an impracticable adoration, improbable passion, an impossible love, but I got it—I accepted that that was not the norm. “Most relationships aren’t like that,” I told him. “I’m just saying, they’re not all fairy tales. Have you read the original stories? They’re gruesome.”