Out of respect for the employee, Carrie waits to respond, and I take the brief interlude in our conversation to check my phone—mostly out of habit—and find no new messages.
I’m not sure why it hurts; I’m the one who has been ignoringhim.It makes sense that he would stop trying to make contact and give me some space.
But soon enough, Carrie’s card is returned, and our drinks are passed through the small window space.
“Have a great day,” the barista mumbles, and Carrie grins further.
“You too!” We pull away from the window, and I sigh in defeat. Today hasnotbeen my day. “I’m just saying,” she continues. “It sounds a lot like you’re finding reasons to run.”
“So you’re saying his actions are normal? That you would have been completely fine finding a drenched, hot woman with her nipples on display at your man’s front door?” I demand, and Carrie rolls her eyes as she takes a large sip from her coffee.
Only, she immediately regrets it and pants as her burnt tongue hangs loosely from her mouth.
“Ugh, hot. But no, I wouldnothave been fine with that. But I would have been fine after hearing his explanation, considering he—Rowan, you said?—has given you no reason to doubt him.”
I blow into the small opening the lid of my latte offers, frowning.“Okay, sure. But what about letting me into his house? Or barely messaging me?”
Carrie shrugs. “You of all people know what it’s like to have weird quirks or needs, and to have no one understand you. Maybe he reallyisweird about his space. This friend of his is probably someone he’s learned to trust over a long period of time—that’s different from a guy he’s courting.”
“Ew, don’t saycourting. I’m not a princess.”
“And the messaging thing? You’re grown men. He got busy with work and his guest, so what? When he came to explain himself, was it right away, or did he make you wait?"
“It was right away,” I grumble.
“So clearly, you’re important. Rowan probably figured you would understand that he was busy and didn’t think much of it. You’re ultra-sensitive and overthinking things because this is new to you, but it’snotnew to him. He’s probably wondering right now what the hell is going through your head.”
“I don't know,” I sigh once again. Everything she’s saying makes sense, but there is still something sitting heavily in my stomach. Something that is nagging away and screaming at me. “I really feel as if he’s hiding something from me.”
“You want to run,” Carrie repeats her earlier statement. “You’ve never had feelings for someone before, so you’re scared of being hurt. Normally, you go through this as a teenager, when it makes sense to be irrational and freak out over meaningless things. But you’re an adult now, and you’re finding whatever you can to use as ammunition. You don’twantto allow him to hurt you, so you’re finding reasons to dip out now.”
That… actually makes a lot of sense. Is this how a teenager feels when they first fall in love? Fuck, I’m glad I was unswayed as a child.
“But how do I know he won’t manipulate me or lie to me?”I ask.
“You don’t,” Carrie sighs. “That’s the risk you take when you give yourself to someone. It’s scary and painful, but that doesn’t mean you villainize their every move. That’s not fair to them. If you can’t find it in yourself to take a chance on Rowan, youshould straight up tell him you’re not ready for this. Otherwise,you’rethe bad guy here.”
“Huh,” is all I say.
“I think you need to take a chill pill and let that man fall in love with you. Stop freaking out. Let your feelings naturally develop andtalkabout your fears and your feelings with him.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
“You’re telling me,” Carrie laughs. She pulls up to our parents’ house and parks her car behind Jess’s SUV. “It’ll be okay, Eli.”
Her small hand rests on my shoulder, and I take in her long, curly blonde hair and her big hazel eyes.
She continues, “I think we both know surviving tonight is going to be a lot harder than whatever emotional hurricane you’ll be flying home to tomorrow.”
Carrie, as always, was absolutely right. As the day passed into night and Jeff and Kyle got increasingly more intoxicated, more socializing was demanded of me.
Jeff ran his big mouth about my date, and the whole family had a billion questions—that I expertly dodged—and then Dad got in on their game of beer pong and ended up ‘lovey drunk’ as he kissed my head and told me how much he missed me.
Eventually, I found my escape sitting in a lawn chair next to my mom, handing candy to the kids who found their way up our driveway to our open garage.
“Happy Halloween!” Mom squeals, tossing a few small, wrapped pieces into the pail of a little mummy.
“I’m already exhausted,” I complain, and my phone screen reads 9:49 p.m.
