Before I could react, he smirks. “Kidding. But maybe...with a little more privacy next time.”
As we smile at each other, I explain to him that I live in a three-bedroom Greenwich apartment, which is too big for a single person, and a kitchen that chefs fantasize about. I should probably ask if he even wants me to come over…but honestly, it should be illegal to have an apartment this big and not share it.
He agrees to come by next Saturday for dinner and a movie, and I can't help but smile. I just need to figure out what he eveneats and what movies he likes. I silently pray he's a Harry Potter freak like me because if not…that's kind of a deal breaker.
It's 9 p.m., which is embarrassingly late for me, so I initiate the goodbyes.
"Okay, so this was fun. Be honest. Have I earned your phone number yet, or do I need to do better?" I tease, eyes locked on him.
Without asking, he grabs my phone, adds Nate to my contacts, and immediately texts himself a text from my phone, saying,Guy who cries on command.
I can’t help but laugh under my breath.
As we exchange contacts and clearly flirt with each other, I notice what looks to be the last two people at the bar side-eyeing us. I figure it's because they recognize me or that we're not exactly being subtle. And honestly, even if they know who I am and are putting two and two together, I couldn't care less. The relief I feel is unexpected but extremely freeing.
After a quick hug, we head to the door together and annoyingly wave goodbye to our new favorite bartender. As I watch Nate walk towards New York Penn Station, I hear my phone ping. When I pick up my phone, I glance ahead and see Nate look back with a smirk. My eyes drop to my phone, and a smile spreads across my face. It's a text from Nate:Hi, Miss me?
Nate
It's Saturday Night, the fourth day of August, and while Mel and I are setting up for our first wedding, all I can think about is Carter. How cute he looks in his tight shirts, and how good he smells with whatever cologne he's wearing. We've been texting all morning about random shit, nothing too personal and nothing too serious.
He's suggested different movie titles for us to watch next weekend, including some Marvel films and the Harry Potter series, to name a few. When I told him I'd seen all the Harry Potter moviesexceptthe last two, he texted me a picture of himself making a face of pure disgust, not the angry or hateful kind, but more like, "What is actually wrong with you?"disgust. I told him that I was waiting to finish the last book in the series prior to watching the movie.
The conversation ended with me agreeing to watch the Harry Potter series together, one movie at a time, starting with The Sorcerer's Stone and ending with the eighth film. I promised him that I would watchallthe movies. I really have to stop beinglazy and read the seventh book, so by the time we get to the final two movies, I can keep my promise and actually watch them. I really hope to keep that promise.
It's a humid Saturday evening, and my little dynamic duo has our first wedding. Luckily, it looks like a smaller wedding, maybe around 80 people, so it feels low-pressure and fun. The ceremony is happening right now, which means me and Mel have at least 30 more minutes to finish setting up. Honestly, I'm not nervous at all. I think we kicked ass at that puppy event, so this should be easy. The bride and groom gave us a list of songs to sing, mostly pop, which works for me.
Right after I finish tuning my guitar, Mel glances at me and says, "Heads up. Looks like cocktail hour's starting because everyone's pouring in." We both lock eyes for a second, nod and jump into our set.
We play for about 45 minutes while people linger and chat. I must look cute or something because every time I open my mouth to sing, a group of girls in their mid-20s yell, "Take your shirt off!" People are so fucking weird. Following the cocktail hour, we play four hours of pop music while people dance and mingle.
My mind must be elsewhere, which is crazy, considering I am literally singing. Still, somehow, it's already 11 p.m., and the DJ comes out right on cue for the after-party. Mel looks at me and says, "Wow, that was easy. It might be the easiest money we've ever made. I love weddings; everyone's plastered, which makes our music sound that much better. So, who cares if we botched some songs? No one even noticed."
I grin and say, "Well, Mel, it is also theonlymoney we've ever made."
As we finish packing up, I turn to her and ask, "What are you doing next weekend?"
She sighs. "Hanging out with a few college friends…which I really don't want to do. It's one of those plans you make way in advance and regret the day of."
I was hoping she'd be free because I really want to catch Carter's first preseason game next Saturday. Not to be a stalker, but more because I genuinely love watching football. The stadium's so close, and, well, watching Carter play is just a bonus. He told me he's only playing the first quarter, so I might not even stay the whole time.
I really don't want to go alone, so my first thought is to text Evan, but I already know he's busy. The next person that comes to mind is my best friend, Christina. I grab my phone and text her a quick message to see if she's free. Almost instantly, she replies, “I’d love to visit!” I know she will love to see my place in Newark. It does not hurt that getting drunk at a football game, even a preseason one, is totally her vibe. We are essentially the same person, so this chill fest is much needed.
So, I've got a plan before I hang out with Carter. And thankfully, Philly's close enough that I don't feel bad about Christina taking the Amtrak to Newark to spend only the day.
***
It's seven in the morning, on Saturday, August 11th, and I hear my front door open, which alarms me to open my eyes. My anxiety spirals, thinking about who could be in my house. My thoughts of being murdered disappear instantly when I hear, "Get the fuck up, queen!"
Christina walks through my bedroom door wearing her Sparrow’s Jersey, which has been converted into a crop top. She is on the shorter side and carries a calming yet excitable energy.
Her hair is soft, golden-blonde waves streaked with sporadic rainbow colors. Her most distinctive part is the Tree of Lifetattoo on her back, with each leaf inked a different color. Christina is always the person I go to with any question relating to sex and sexuality. It might be because she is pansexual, or it just might be because she is the most open-book person I know. This is why I feel comfortable discussing anything boy-related with her.
I get up from bed, in my boxer, and mutter, "Why are you here so early? The game isn't till one."
"Well, you are making me leave right after the game for some guy, and I was already up. You know me, I do what I want, when I want." She replies.
It's too early to drink, so I think I can walk her around Ironbound and introduce her to the amazing Portuguese bakeries and their famous Bacon Egg and Cheese Sandwiches.
