“I’ll give you a ride back. I can’t imagine being out for another hour.” Grant and I walk out of Vida’s together, pausing in anticipation of the group, but they just keep going. We stare after Will, Gen, Scott, Andy, and the girl whose name I never asked as they cross the street.
“Not even a goodbye to you? Jesus Christ,” Grant says mostly to himself, but I hear him.
“It’s really okay, Grant. I’m used to it.” I hear the apathy in my voice and hope he doesn’t notice.
“You’re not the only one.” He swipes a hand across the top of his head before resettling his baseball cap and unlocking his car, opening the passenger door for me without a second thought.
“God, you are the epitome of southern charm, you know that?”
His eyes twinkle with amusement as he grins, settling into the driver’s seat. “I know.”
The drive from Vida’s to my apartment is less than five minutes, but he refuses to even put the car in drive unless I have my seatbelt on. Once we’re finally moving, I turn toward him, suddenly curious.
“So, what was bothering you tonight?” I’m nowhere near as tipsy as I was an hour ago, but it seems I’m still just as chatty.
“Who says anything was bothering me?” I make a mental note that he did not even spare a glance as he answered.
“Either something was bothering you, or you’ve been cloned and your jovial essence didn’t make the trip.”
“My jovial essence?” He smirks, finally sparing me a glance.
“Is jovial not a word in the Bible Belt?” He laughs at this, his tenseness starting to evaporate.
“You know, I did have to be a little smart to get here.”
“Sure,” I tease. I raise my eyebrows, nonverbally reiterating my earlier question. He takes a deep breath, sighing.
“Maybe one day it’ll be worth telling you about. But for now, don’t you worry your pretty little head over it.” I make a face of disgust at his over exaggerated southern accent as he pats my head, surprised to find us both laughing in earnest.
“Thanks for the ride. I really didn’t want to walk home in these shoes.” I glance down at my heels, grateful I didn’t have to trudge back here in pain or barefoot.
“Anything for a friend.”
He waits in his car until I’m inside, the wheels of his car audibly spinning away only once I’ve turned on my lights. I swish my front curtains shut, doing a quick closing shift of my living area, before begrudgingly washing the day off my face.
I can’t believe I texted him.
I rifle through my closet, in search of the comfiest pajamas within which to wallow in supreme embarrassment. I decide on my pink La Perla set, because if I’m going to feel like a fool it should at least be a beautiful one.
Collapsing into my bed, I relish the softness of the sheets against my skin but realize that my bed is nowhere as cozy as Ben’s. I reach for the planner on my nightstand, hoping tomorrow I’ll have enough time for a mind clearing manicure. Relief washes over me when I realize I have absolutely zero plans. I have all the time in the world to shop my worries away.
14
Olivia
Slapping for my phone, I blindly press the stop button on the alarm that’s been going off repeatedly for the past hour. It’s only nine a.m.; I haven’t slept in too much. I just couldn’t bring myself to spring out of bed, not when the crisp morning air was filtering through my cracked window so beautifully.
I love Saturdays. Especially when the sky is clear, the air is cool, and you’ve the whole day to spend traipsing around, just indulging yourself. Because that is what I plan to do today— indulge myself. That might be just what I need to clear my head.
When I got back home last night, I could barely keep my eyes open. It’s only now that I remember Will probably spent the better part of his night out drinking, without me. I guess Gen was good enough company in my absence, because when I check my messages, there’s only one. And it’s not from Will.
Ben
You left the sparkly interrogation notebook on my bed. Just fyi. I’ll bring it to class.
His text to me feels mechanical, especially after the way he basically dismissed me last night.I can ruminate over thisanother day. I toss my phone on my bed as I finally leap from it. The original hardwood of my room is cool on the soles of my feet, and I hurry to slip on my Tasmans. My gaze lands on my to-do list, and I steal my phone back from the cloud that is my bed, tempted to just lay back in it with a steaming cup of tea.
I’m about to hitbuy nowon an old school harlequin paperback I need for class before I realize that shipping is a two week minimum.Why does anything take two weeks to ship these days?
