I arrive home, find a spot on the street, and take the stairs to the second floor. When I first discovered this apartment three years ago, it was beyond affordable. But gentrification in the neighborhood is jacking prices everywhere. Not that I’m complaining. It’s incredible to have a cute coffee shop, a Trader Joe’s, and a farm-to-table restaurant all within walking distance. But my rent is going up two hundred dollars a month in the new year. Sam and I are in negotiations for upgrading our relationship to roommate status.
I throw my backpack on the couch and grab a fork along with the container of chicken salad I made Wednesday. I scoop bites directly into my mouth, then eat a mandarin orange, grab a wine cooler, and head for the shower.
Peeling off my sweaty clothes and stepping under the scalding water is heaven. I stand there with my eyes closed, letting the water run over my skin until I’m no longer chilled, then pop open my drink and sip. I’ve never been happier with myself for not making any weekend plans. Sam’s Oktoberfest extravaganza is scheduled for next Saturday, which means I can get a little buzzed, sleep in, catch up on a project or two, and spend Sunday afternoon with my parents.
My mind flits back to Garrett. His comment at the end of the night hadn’t even phased me. Probably because I was so distracted thinking about Sam and living the awkwardness that was Calder.
Why was he so strange? Was there something about me that brought it out in him? He seemed to communicate fine with Garrett and the others, even Megan. They played together most of the night.Was I the problem?
No, back to Garrett. We had more interactions tonight than in a week at the office, but had they accomplished anything? Was there any sign he was interested?
I didn’t understand how he worked. That was the problem. He was so driven and focused. I needed to figure out what got him outside of that ambition and competitiveness. To slow down and notice what was right in front of him.
I use the grapefruit scrub Sam got me for my birthday and wash, finish my drink, then step out and towel off. It’s only ten. Plenty of time for a face mask.
The collagen film is cool and slimy as I pull it out of the packaging, but it feels amazing on my skin as soon as I get it in place. I moisturize, comb out my hair, and wrap up in my plush, ankle-length robe. Time for Bridgerton. The new season dropped at the beginning of the year, but I only watched the first episode before my nights were swallowed up with work trips and my annual Mother’s Day cruise with my mom. Then summer hit,and I hadn’t gotten back to it. But this weekend was perfect for binge-watching.
I find my phone on the counter and settle on the couch, my head pleasantly fuzzy. While Netflix loads, I check my texts and email. Just a few promotions, a message from my bank about enrolling in e-statements, which I thought I did weeks ago, and?—
I frown. There’s an email with Smash Point Social in the subject line, but it’s not from Frank. It was sent five minutes ago, and the sender’s name is Frederick? I click on it.
Hey. Got your email from Frank. If you’re interested in lessons at Smash Point, let me know.
Calder
I blink, rereading the message. I only had one wine cooler, so this wasn’t something I was making up. Calder emailed me? He got my email from Frank? Frank looked like he’d be in bed at eight o’clock at the latest, and most disturbing, Calder’s real name was Frederick?
I click reply.
Hey, I’m so sorry, I think you might be looking for someone else. I don’t know a Frederick.
Alecia
I grin and click play on episode two, but keep my phone out. Calder sent that message recently enough, I secretly hopehe sees my reply and responds. I straighten when the bolded message blinks into existence.
Thought you were smart enough to make the connection considering the signature.
Calder
The idea of him sitting on his couch, a scowl on his face, makes me chortle. Does he think it’s funny or is he actually pissed? He must really need these coaching hours if he’s messaging me at ten o’clock on a Friday night.
Oh, Calder! Right. I owe you a single-use cold pack or $0.67, whichever value is greater. Would you prefer Venmo or Paypal?
Alecia
My pulse rushes. I don’t know why I’m messing with him, but it’s too fun to stop. I should’ve eaten more chicken salad because the cooler has obviously hit me harder than expected.
His reply is almost instant.
It was branded, so closer to $1.13 but no need to reimburse. Flush in cold packs at the moment.
So no lessons?
Calder
I snort. What was it about these lessons? Was he going to ask me for ten friends who might be interested in a new and exciting opportunity?
Right. I get that you’re desperate. I’m sorry you can’t find anyone to sign up for lessons with you, though I did give you feedback that I hope you’re taking into consideration.
