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to study too hard. Man, what it would be like to be seventeen and growing up in the city; I can’t really imagine it.
During my walk to the store at the end of the block, I read about the bar my mom texted me about and call her. She tells me that Ken just got home from a conference in Portland, and he hops on the line so we can talk about the score of the last Giants game. With their loss, I won a little wager we had going, and I can’t keep myself from bragging just a touch. We play quick catch-up and get off the phone so he and my mom can eat dinner.
I used to eat dinner with them nearly every night and talk about current events, school, sports, among other things. While I’m glad for the time I spent with my family before I moved, thinking about them only reminds me all the more that I’ve got to make some friends.
Chapter Twelve
AFTER FINDING NOT ONE, but three red Gatorades, I head back to my apartment.
At my building, a loud delivery truck is idling in the middle of the street. The deli below the building has deliveries at all times of the night; the trash collectors come at around 3 a.m. nearly every night and the loud pounding of the bins being emptied into the metal truck used to wake me up all the time. I recently made the best purchase of my life and got one of those machines that play sounds of the sea, the rain forest, the night desert, and the only setting that I actually use: white noise.
I wait patiently for the elevator to reach the first floor and step inside. It’s small, only suitable for two medium-sized people and one shopping bag. I usually don’t mind taking the stairs, but my knee’s started throbbing a little again.
As it lifts me up to the third floor, the elevator creaks and groans and those sounds, along with my anxiety about tonight, make me wonder when one of the old elevators in this city is finally going to trap me for hours. If it happened tonight, I wouldn’t be able to go out with Nora—
No, tonight will be fun.
It will be so fun, I tell myself as I put the milk away and the Gatorade in the fridge.
It’s a normal thing to go out with a woman and her roommates, even if I don’t know them, I think as I feel the soothing hot water of the shower. An uneventful shower, during which no curtains or egos are hurt, and one that I very much enjoy.
Totally normal, and nothing to be nervous about.
But the moment I convince myself of this, a tiny, curly-haired wrench is tossed into my plans. Lying back on my bed, my hair still wet from the shower, I check my text messages. I scroll through two texts, one from Tessa about taking an extra shift. She says she will meet us out if she can and that Nora is going to text me soon with the information about tonight.
The other is from Dakota.
Hey what are you up to?I read, then repeat it aloud, a little confused.
Staring at the screen, I wait a few moments before responding. I don’t want to tell her that I have plans with someone else, especially not another woman. It’s not that I want to lie; I would rather do anything than that. I just don’t see anything good coming from telling her what I’m actually doing. I don’t know if there’s even a reason to tell her. We aren’t dating. Nora and I are only friends, no matter how much time I spend thinking about her.
But I lie anyway.
Studying. You?
I close my eyes before I hit send and my memory guides my thumb to pull the trigger. I immediately feel guilty for lying, but know that it’s too late to backtrack now.
I plug my phone into the charger and walk to my closet to begin getting ready for tonight. I grab a pair of dark blue jeans with rips in both knees from my closet. The jeans are tighter than I usually wear, but I like the way they look on me. Until two years ago, I would have never fit into these without looking like an overflowing cupcake. Not even a cupcake . . . a muffin. An ugly muffin.
I stare and stare at my closet, trying to locate any bit of fashion knowledge I may have stored somewhere inside my brain. There’s nothing. I’ve got elves, wizards, hockey pucks, and plenty of warlocks inside my head, but no fashion tips. There’s nothing in my closet except button-down shirts, plaid everything, and too many WCU hoodies. I walk over to my small dresser and open the top drawer. I’ll wear gray briefs, one of the few pairs I have that don’t have holes in them. My room is a little muggy, so I lean over and pull my window open.
The second drawer is filled with T-shirts, most of them with words printed on the front. Should I have gone shopping?
Where is Tessa when I need her?
Getting ready to go out for a night of partying is something I’m not even close to being familiar with. I usually wear plain T-shirts with jeans or slacks, and since I’ve moved to Brooklyn, I’ve added a few jackets to my wardrobe. I would say I’m right in the middle stages of being able to dress myself.
I don’t know what type of place we’re going to, or what Nora will be wearing. I don’t know
