Nope. It’s just totally normal for me to feel my toes curl in my sneakers and my hands to be slightly sweaty because it’s a little too damn warm in here.
She stands by the aquarium, watching my betta fish swim around in his tank, past the tiny treasure chest Vinny planted in the small pebbles before moving away to observe the rest of the living room.
The whole time, my eyes don’t leave her. I actually don’t think any of my brain cells are working right now. She’s the first girl I’ve ever invited to my apartment, too, so I’m a little…lost? Confused?
In retrospect, I don’t talk to a lot of girls, so the latter seems more appropriate.
Carly stifles a yawn. “What time is it?” She checks her phone before widening her eyes. “Oh, shit. I have to get going.”
Grabbing her bag from the countertop, she quickly slips her feet into her sneakers. She had changed into them when we left the beach. I check my watch and frown.
I already feel like a bad host for not offering her water.
“It’s not late,” I point out.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “But I have to wake up at four in the morning.”
“Four?”
“The troubles of being a film student.” She tsks. “I put this upon myself. Don’t worry, dude, I’ll see myself out.”
“No, I’ll walk you out.” Because that’stotallynormal. From the apartment door, down to the elevator, and even to her car.
We stop at her car, and she turns to me and smiles. “Thanks, by the way.”
I tilt my head at her. “For what? I should be thanking you.” For knowing what I needed at the moment.
“I know, but I wanted to thank you for trusting me.” Her cheeks develop a rosy shade of pink, noticeable by the dimly lit streets. “It probably doesn’t seem like much to you, but it means a lot to me. Even though you were just there.”
And as she unlocks her car, I make the stark—and somewhat rash, regarding my history of decision-making—decision of responding with, “Well, what are friends for?”
Those blue eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Friends? I didn’t think we were.”
“You saw me on the verge of a panic attack and aided me out of it,” I joke, holding my hand out to her. “If that doesn’t make us friends now, then I don’t know what does.”
She glances down at my hand and holds out her left hand, where I have a clear sight of her tattoo. An anchor, loosely wrapped in film strips. I have to remind myself that even with everything that happened today, she’s still a director. Still a reminder of the industry I’ve spent years walking away from, scrubbing myself clean from.
But as I switch hands and grasp hers, I can’t help but feel the same warm tingle shoot up my arms and to my spine, and any resistance my brain has built up towards Carly Ryder begins to disappear. Who knew that a handshake could be so intimate, especially between two friends?
Which is what Carly and I are. Apparently.
“Yeah,” she agrees, a small sigh leaving her lips. “Friends.”
Maybe I’m just starting to figure out how I truly feel about her.
12
Mental Preparation
Carly
The sun is shining, the birds are chirping…
And I do not want to get out of my fucking bed, despite Ali’s insistence.
“I know you don’t want to do this,” Ali continues as she pulls the bedsheets off my body. “But Carson told you that if he has to bear a birthday brunch with Bailey and not have your commentary to tide him over, he’ll personally nab his roommate’s car and murder you himself.”
Groaning, I pull the covers over my face, hiding the sunlight. “I don’t wanna,” I mumble into the sheets. My bed is right where I want to be on a Sunday in March.
