Snow swirled outsidethe window of the “great room” in my tiny apartment. As I stared at the wind-whipped flakes, I wondered for the hundredth time what Wyatt was doing. After I gave him my number, I thought he’d blow up my phone with come-ons and pushing me for a date. But he’d gone radio silence in the three days since New Year’s Eve, and I didn’t have a clue what that meant.
He’d told me he was in town, so I could have reached out to him, of course. But I’d already made that move when I gave him my number, and again when I wished him a Happy New Year.
Forcing my attention onto my computer, I returned to editing my paper on my internship at Mr.Clarke’s hardware store. Contrary to what my dad thought, I’d learned more about running a small business from Chessly’s dad in a week than I had in two-and-a-half years in business college. Who knew?
I’d deliberately left my phone on the charger in my bedroom, but my apartment wasn’t so large that I didn’t hear the vibration of a text against the wood of my nightstand. Jumping up from my couch, I ran the five or six steps to my bedroom, grabbed my phone, and in my Wyatt-induced fog, opened the text before even checking to see who it was from.
Not Wyatt.
Though Ben’s avatar appeared at the top of the screen, the words were Pippa’s.
Ben: (Pippa) I need to talk to you. Please. It’s about Charlie.
Me: Not interested in your drama. Tell Ben if he lets you use his phone again, I’m blocking him too.
With a vehemence the device didn’t deserve, I threw my phone on the bed. Pippa wanted to talk to me about Charlie? Was she freaking serious? After Dad’s callously casual bomb-drop that the two of them had been together for almosttwomonthsbefore that awful afternoon, she wanted to talk to me about Charlie. How rich. In the past I’d always been available to help her figure out her relationships with guys. But after The Fuckery, she was on her own. She’d gone after him, so now he was hers to deal with.
My phone lit up with another text. Growling my frustration, I crawled across the bed to retrieve it.
Ben: (Pippa) Please don’t be like this, Piper. I need you.
There it was. The SOS. The three words that never failed to send me running to her. I stood and took one step toward the door before I caught myself. When she made her choice to cheat with Charlie, she’d made the choice to grow up fast.
She wasn’t my responsibility anymore.
Me: Your first adult lesson: decisions have consequences.Because I couldn’t bring myself to be completely heartless, I added:Since you’re with Ben, talk tohim.
I set my phone to Do Not Disturb and fell back across my bed. Pippa was having trouble with Charlie. In spite of myself, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was. Then I remembered how he’d watched me all through Christmas dinner after I outmaneuvered him to avoid riding the lifts with him. And how he’d come on to me in the Molly the night I met Wyatt—when he was sleeping with my sister. My hands curled into fists. Screw Charlie if he was having second thoughts about which sister he preferred. One afternoon was the exact amount of time I needed to figure out I didn’t want one damn thing to do with him again. Ever.
Since that fateful afternoon, I’d wondered more than once if I ever loved him or if I was more in love with the idea of being in love with someone who loved me back. After the initial crying jag, I’d sat back and thought about what it was I was mourning. The more I considered it, the more I had to admit the betrayal and the blow to my ego of losing my boyfriend to my younger sister hurt more than not having a relationship with Charlie anymore. I mourned the terrible rift Pippa’s choices had rent in our relationship. I also mourned the two-and-a-half years I’d invested in a relationship with a cheater, years I should have spent hitting the bars and meeting fun guys.
Like Wyatt.
Gah!I kept circling back to Wyatt.
It was sex. That was all.
I stomped back to my couch, plopped down, and slid my laptop onto my lap, determined to finish editing my paper before lunch. Once I had it finished, I could spend the rest of the day and all of the last few days of Christmas break on the slopes. When a picture of a smiling Wyatt popped into my head, I said, “Go away. Can’t you see I’m working here?” My words echoed in the silence of my apartment, but they did the trick. I finished the last citation on the bibliography page at the same time as my stomach told me it was time to call out for lunch.
Days when snow danced from the skies were my favorite ski days. Something about having to sort of feel my way down the mountain, forcing my body to do its job rather than anticipate the next bump or alteration in the terrain by sight, exhilarated me. Though I only skied about six runs after lunch, I arrived home tired and completely happy.
I’d barely stepped back into my apartment after an almost perfect afternoon on the mountain when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Fearing another sneaky text from Pippa stole some of my good mood and ensured I checked the sender before opening the text this time.
A smile broke over my face.
Wyatt: Did you make it back from Harloyet?
I peeled off my jacket, tossed it on the couch, and slid my ski pants off before I texted back.
Me: Yesterday. Had a paper towrite.
Wyatt: Are youfinished?
Pushing my snow wear aside, I sat in the corner of my couch and grinned.
Me: Is that something you usually have to ask agirl?
The dots flickered across the bottom of the screen, stopped, disappeared, then reappeared. Guess he changed his mind about his response.
