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“I agree with Lawrence,” Price adds. “She deserves more respect than what you’ve been giving her, and you deserve to move on. Tell her the truth.”
I breathe deeply. He’s right. Nora has always treated me with respect and kindness. I realize for the first time that her straight-to-the-point breakup was even merciful in a way. She saw we weren’t compatible anymore—she needed to focus on school and study, and my personality rebelled against those things out of self-preservation. Where everyone else in my life was quick to tell me to shape up and try harder, Nora never did. She loved the man I was, and also realized she needed something different for herself and moved on without ever presenting me with a “you need to change to be with me” ultimatum.
And I’ve hazed her because of it.
“You’re right. I’ll tell her on the plane on Friday.”
Jamal suddenly scoffs and emerges from the kitchen with a goblet full of a berry-colored drink that almost matches his shirt.
“First of all.” He points to Nathan. “Youdidn’t tell me there was sangria!” His finger swivels to Lawrence. “Andyougave out the worst advice I’ve ever heard. Clearly the man needs to win back his woman, not let her go.”
I cross my arms and sit back heavily against the couch. “You’re wrong, man. Nora’s not mine. She made that clear years ago, and it’s time I respect that. Now, deal me in for Monopoly and I’ll take a glass of sangria. Throw a piece of ice in there while you’re at it.”
Jamal sits back down on the floor. “Get your own drink, you unromantic piece of shit.” He hands me some rainbow-colored cash. “And you have to be the top hat—that’s all that’s left.”
Wow, do you feel that? It’s hope! Radiant. Light. Expressive, hope! Why am I skipping around my apartment like a teenager who’s never experienced disappointment in her lifetime? Because the other night, Derek and I cleared the air, and I think he’s finally going to let me do my job. He didn’t even call me once yesterday or send me on any silly errands.
Not only that, but the guilt I’ve been carrying for so long is gone. He understands. More than that, he thought it was the right decision. The real difficulty now has been erasing the memory of his eyes softening. Of him telling me he was glad I took care of myself back then. If wild and fun Derek was enticing, stable and mature Derek is terrifying. I can’t deny how much I still…
Never mind. None of it matters. Because in the next breath he said he didn’t want to be friends again and that gutted me like a trout at the fish market, but it’s okay. I get it. (I hate it with all my heart—but I respect it.) We’re going to put our careers first. Good, good, good.
My luggage is packed, my backpack is loaded down with mylaptop full of work projects (real projects and not just obscure errands), which I stayed up all night working on because I was too excited to wait, and when I blinked, my alarm was going off. I’ve been doing nothing but working an endless stream of hours since he decided to quit hazing me because I have so much lost time to make up for.
I feel triumphant. Like I should run around my apartment with an American flag strapped to my back like I just won the Olympics. I’m living off hopes and dreams and coffee and I’m sure there’s a slightly rabid look in my eyes, but I don’t even care. For the first time, I feel things are really moving in my life. My dreams are attainable. And even if I don’t get to have Derek romantically or as a friend…at least I won’t be completely out of his life again. I don’t have to say goodbye to him. Is that pathetic? Choosing not to answer that question.
Just as I’m pouring my fourth cup of coffee, there’s a knock on my door. I know it’s Derek because there’s a ripple down my spine. Just kidding, it’s because he said he and his driver would pick me up here at fivea.m.
I race to the door and throw it open. “Good morning, Dere-Bear!” I tell him with a huge smile because I refuse to allow any lingering awkwardness after my vulnerability dump and our eye sex. Because yes—upon replaying it over and over in my head since that night, I’ve officially determined it was eye sex. “Come in for a second while I grab my stuff.”
Derek frowns slightly, hesitating at the door. “Uh, Nora—”
“No.” I point at him. “Don’t start all that. We’re going to the airport. I am going to make you a load of money. And we will not have any weirdness between us because of the other night. We can both be professional adults and double down on all our rules.” I go to my bedroom and grab my backpack and suitcase while still talking tohim, raising my voice so he can hear me in the next room. “Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve really nailed the agent gig over the last few days. I doubt there’s a single thing that could happen on this trip that I’m not prepared for.”
When I’m back in the living room, Derek frowns deeply at my face. “Nora, did you sleep at all last night?”
I point my airplane pillow at him before I shove it into my backpack. “Good question. The answer is: No. But luckily, I don’t need sleep anymore. Unrelated note, did you know if you drink enough coffee, you can hear the color purple?”
I heave my bag up over my shoulders and try to walk to the door.Trybeing the key word because I’m suddenly snagged backward by a hand on my backpack. I squeak as I stumble into Derek. He looks down at me over my shoulder with stern blue eyes. “So you haven’t slept. Have you eaten anything today?”
“Yes—I’ve eaten about four thousand milligrams of caffeine, and I’ve gained spidey-senses. It’s great, everything is swirling and tingling around me.”
“That’s called a panic attack.”
I make apshsound and try to walk away again, but he snags me once more. I swallow when I feel his hands sliding under the straps of my backpack and removing it from my shoulders. “Derek, come on, we’ve gotta—”
“Listen to me, rookie. We’re not going anywhere until you eat something.” He sets down my backpack and I slump. “Do you have any eggs in your fridge?”
“Well…yes…but I don’t have time to make them.”
He’s already striding away from me to the kitchen—that confident mountain of a man acting as if time and space will bow before him. And with an ass like his, maybe they will.
“I’m making you eggs, you’re going to eat them, and then we’re going to go to the airport and you’re going to sleep the entire flight. I mean it, Nora, if I even see a sliver of your green eyes, I’m going to call it all off, understand?”
Bossy, bossy, bossy. Why don’t I hate it? Better question: Why am I feeling hot and bothered by it? Probably because I’m suddenly flooded with memories of his shoulders hovering over me, silhouetted by only the moonlight when he would whisper other bossy things to me.
He opens the fridge door and pulls out a carton of eggs. “Now, while I’m cooking, go put some damn pants on. You broke rule number seven.”
I grunt a laugh. “I did no—” I look down and somehow gasp and shriek at the same time. “Derek! I’m not wearing pants!”
