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One second, she was putty in my hands. The next, it was like I wasn’t even in the room. I was a fly buzzing near her. A nuisance to get rid of before seeing the people she really wanted.
My phone chimes again, but it isn’t the text I expected.
Frankie: Hey. Are you busy?
Am I busy? What the hell kind of question is that?
Me: I’m just at home. Are you okay?
I almost didn’t ask, but I know I’ll regret it if I don’t.
Frankie: I’m fine. Are you okay?
Am I okay? My friend went and snuck herself inside my brain as something more, and now that I’ve tasted her, it’s all I can think about. But this friend doesn’t seem to feel the same way. So no. I’m not okay.
Me: I’m fine. Just having a quiet Sunday at home. Have you had a nice birthday?
While I wait for her to respond, I hunt for the receipt I’ve been using as a bookmark. There’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate on reading right now.
I can’t help the flash of disappointment when the next text that comes through is from Liam, not Frankie.
Liam: We hang out at school, like at lunch. But we haven’t hung out since the movie. But we talk a lot.
Me: Just ask her out. What’s the worst that can happen? She might say no. And if she does, then you accept that and be her friend. Best-case scenario, she says yes.
I check my message thread with Frankie. The gray dots of death keep appearing and reappearing. My stomach twists at the sight. Is she writing an essay? Or writing and rewriting her message over and over? Knowing Frankie, it’s the latter.
Liam: I don’t know if I can do it.
Me: Aren’t you the same kid who scaled Mount Hood with me last summer? You were brave enough to trick me into taking you to the movies to see her last time. I’m pretty sure you’re brave enough for this.
That had been a great trip, and training for it with Liam had been awesome. I wonder if Frankie would ever do something like that? She doesn’t seem like much of an outdoorsman, but maybe she’s just never tried it?
Why am I torturing myself like this? I’m doing it again—making plans and getting carried away.
I push off the couch to grab a beer from the kitchen, forcing myself to ignore the sound of another two texts coming through. Popping the top off, I test my willpower and stay in the kitchen to take a sip before walking slowly back to the couch.
I love my son, but if that text isn’t from Frankie, I might lose my mind.
Frankie: My birthday was good. I went out to lunch with the girls this afternoon. My burger was delicious. I’m still full.
Frankie: So I think I owe you an apology for this morning. I panicked when my family called—boyfriends and stuff like that are not really something we talk about. Especially with my parents. They’re really traditional, if you know what I mean.
Her explanation doesn’t completely soothe my feelings, even though the rational part of my brain understands her concern about how things would look to her family. But she’s not a child—she could have called them back later, instead of shoving me out the door.
Me: I’m glad you had a nice afternoon with the girls. I am man enough to admit that I was a little hurt at being dismissed this morning. You know you’re an adult, right?
Frankie: It’s such a habit. If I’m being honest—I’ve never had a reason NOT to drop everything and answer before. I don’t…
Frankie: Uh, never mind, ignore that. What I meant was, you’re right. I didn’t need to drop everything and answer. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend.
Friend. Right. This woman is going to be the death of me.
Me: Apology accepted.
I didn’t hear from Frankie again last night, despite checking my phone every few minutes, just in case. I talked Liam into asking Emma out on a real date, but every text that wasn’t from Frankie was another reminder that once again, I’m the one who’s too invested.
“Goodnight, Julian!” Lauren waves from across the lobby, phone in hand. Whatever she’s reading isn’t making her happy, based on her scowl. She’s almost out the door before she backtracks to where I’m standing. “Hey, what are you and Frankie doing tonight?”
