“Any news on opening your own studio?”
I shake my head at her. “Not yet, hopefully something will be in the works soon, though.”
Rose smiles and hands me my client folder that I left next to her and I place it into my bag. Just as I’m about to leave, I hear my name from behind me.
“Mia, hey.” Laura’s blonde ponytail swings as she approaches me. Big, blue eyes and a body that most women would do anything to have.
“Hi, Laura,” I say, reaching out to hug her.
“I saw the game yesterday… Is Nate okay?” Sharing Nate’s business with his former hook-up isn’t something I plan on doing, but it’s nice that she’s asked. I’ve always liked her.
“He’ll be alright, thanks for asking.” It’s the truth, because he will be. Eventually.
“Good, good, I’m so glad. At least he has you, right.” She laughs as she says it, and I can’t determine whether it’s sarcastic or a meaningful remark. My head tilts slightly at her comment, causing her to pick up on my uncertainty behind her words.
“That’s what friends are for,” I add before pulling my bag over my shoulder.
“Right. Yes. That’s what I meant.” I nod slowly at her and begin to start saying my goodbyes, but she hesitantly takes a few steps closer to me. “It’s just… did you know Nate keeps a collection of your scrunchies in his bathroom drawer? He wears one every game during warm-ups. I asked about it once when we were together, he didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were yours.”
I figured Nate had to be doing something with all the scrunchies of mine he’s stolen, but I figured they were probably just scattered all about, not in a drawer.
“There’s a Post-it note with a smiley face in his bathroom on the mirror dated three years ago from you. For three years, he’s held onto an emoji from you.” That, I did know. I saw it this morning. I just assumed he’s too lazy to reach up and take it down.
“Well, that was for his birthday…” I say, realizing how stupid I sound.
“You still don’t see it.” Her head shakes back and forth as a small laugh escapes her. “You two have a handshake that you do every time he leaves for an away game. It’s silly, but sweet. I had a lot of fun with Nate, but I never held a candle to you.”
“What are you talking about?” There’s a sudden jump in my heart rate at her words.
“You and Nate. I wanted to actuallynotlike you when we first met, but it turns out you’re a freaking delight, so there went that idea.” We both turn to start walking towards the door. “Honestly, Mia. I’m glad that Nate and I stopped seeing each other. I don’t ever want to be someone’s second choice, and that’s what I’d always be after you.”
“We are just friends though. We’re close, yes, but only friends.”
She shakes her head back and forth as she opens the door and we walk out. The wind is blowing and the sun is shining, there isn’t a cloud in the sky as we stand out here. It’s a beautiful day and all I want to do is to end this conversation because it’s throwing my mind into a tailspin.
“I know you are, but…” she pauses, inhaling a deep breath. “He never looked at me the way he looks at you. I was a placeholder for you, Mia. I think every woman will be until he finally admits his feelings for you.”
At that, Laura gives me a hug and walks over to her bright, shiny BMW that’s perfectly parallel parked in the spot to my left. I turn my head back, watching her get in, completely dumbfounded by that entire conversation.
Comments like this aren’t new to me, but it is the first time I’ve heard it in a while. We dealt with this in college, and I remember constantly rolling my eyes at the thought of Nate actually wanting to date me. We had our one almost-kiss, and even that I convinced myself was a fluke, just due to him having a few drinks.
The women that Nate dates look like Laura. They’re blonde and have curves in all the right places. They dress up and wear makeup all the time, they drive fancy cars, and probably don’t wear the same leggings twice in one week.
Good thing I have a solid fifteen-minute walk back to my apartment to overthink everything she just said to me.
I had planned on taking Nate to the state fair that’s in town this week. I bought tickets after I declared that Nate needs to take a pause and do more things for himself outside of football. Of course, I didn’t expect him to then take a break from football itself, but life has a funny way of showing you exactly what you need.
My phone dings with an email as I’m walking back to my apartment and I see it’s from Quinn, the realtor. I emailed her the other day, letting her know I was interested in discussing rental options, the term, amount, things like that. It’s a long shot, being able to go through with this, but I want to try. I haven’t heard if any other renters have been interested, but I asked her to let me know in the email if it was being pursued by anyone else.
I just got home, do you want to go for a run or have you already gone?
Nate
We couldn’t be more in sync if we tried.
Not even a minute later, there is knocking at my door. Did I tell him a time this morning? I don’t even remember. But this is purely just out of familiarity. We know each other’s schedules. He’s here at the exact right time because that’s just how it’s always been. It has nothing to do with anything that Laura mentioned.
“How are your parents?” I ask Nate once we’ve stopped to take a breather in this heat. He’s running himself into the ground today and I can barely keep up.
