Nick and I sit on opposite ends of the couch in our small two-bedroom apartment. It makes me feel guilty that we’re crammed into such a small space when Nick can definitely afford to live on his own, but I’m convinced he likes having someone around to talk to. If I don’t respond to his texts, he just comes into my room, sits on my bed, and recaps the purposefully ignored messages. He knows he couldn’t do that if he moved out, so here he is, stretched out on our second-hand sofa, trying to get me to listen to him.
I wish I could lie, but I like living with Nick too. It stops me from turning this place into my introvert dungeon. Apparently, only coming out for work and food is not the healthiest thing. It has always been this way though; if I hide away, Nick drags me out.
When I met Nick five years ago during undergrad, I had no idea that he was going to become my best friend, confidant, roommate, and coworker.
He double majored in history and secondary education and spent a year working in a high school after we graduated. However, he realized that he makes more money bartending, so he decided to quit and live his best life. Now, he bartends on the weekends at Working Class and makes enough from the tips to cover all of his expenses. As of recently, he also works threeshifts a week at The Brew for some extra spending money—and a decent health insurance plan.
“Hello? Earth to Ellie?”
His hand waves in front of my computer screen, snapping me back to reality. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, what did you say?”
“I was just making sure you know what you are getting yourself into? Patrick seems like a decent enough guy from what I’ve seen, but are we really sure he’s not some creep?”
Soaking in the question, I realize that I don’t actually know. There is something in my gut that says no, but am I really the best person to trust? I’ve never been great at judging people. My brain instantly goes to my ex, but I shut it down before it can start.
“Uh…I don’t think he’s a creep. I was over at his house last night, and he didn’t try anything or do anything weird. He seems like a good person, and his couch isreally comfy.”
Nick scoffs and kicks his feet at me, almost knocking my computer off my lap. When I glare at him, he just goes back to what he was saying. “You should know that a comfy couch is not a good indicator of trust, and I just want you to be safe. Don’t go over to his house alone again until you get to know him a bit better. You’re smart enough to make your own decisions, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t worry about you.”
This is why I love Nick. While he’s overly honest, it’s only because he cares so much. If there is anyone that you want fighting for you in your corner, it’s Nick, and I am grateful I have a best friend like him.
Seeing my phone light up on the coffee table, I lean forward to grab it.
“It’s Patrick.” I unlock my phone and show the screen to Nick.
Patrick:The first “Greg hosted social event” has been announced. It’s this Friday at 5. Happy Hour at Hidden Fox Tavern. Can you make it?
He snatches it out of my hand to get a better look. “Oooo, looks like you’ve got your first fake date.”
Nick hands my phone back to me before I have a chance to berate him about touching things that aren’t his. When I start to immediately text Patrick back, he gives me a skeptical look. If this were someone that I was actually trying to date, it would make sense to wait a couple minutes before responding, but the 'alleged rules' of real dating don’t apply. So, I can respond to texts as quickly as I want. It’s nice not having to worry about him thinking I’m too needy or desperate.
Ellie:Sure, I’ll be there.
Patrick:Great!
Patrick:Do you want me to pick you up or do you want to meet there?
Ellie:Very chivalrous of you to offer, but I’ll be able to make it on my own.
Patrick:Got it! I love an independent woman :)
Butterflies rush to my stomach, and I can’t help but smile.
“You better be careful.” Nick gives the warning when he notices the way I’m looking at my phone.
“I’ll be fine. I was just being funny and smiling at my own text.” My attempt at not sounding defensive fails miserably, but it doesn’t matter. The only thing to do now is to stick my tongue out at Nick and put my phone back on the coffee table where it was. If my phone is too close, I will never finish this assignment, and the last thing I need is to be losing easy points in this class.
This last week has been hectic to say the least. Working my normal Monday through Friday shifts wasn't too bad. There was a brief interaction with Greg, but I’ve figured out that the perfect way to get him to stop talking is to gush over Patrick. It sucks that I need to pretend to have a boyfriend to keep him away, but if it works, who am I to complain?
By the end of the week, he doesn’t even approach me; he just waits for his drink and leaves.
Check-mate, Greg.
I’ve always worked the opening shift since I started at The Brew. People think I’m crazy for doing it willingly, but it gives me so much time in the afternoon. Since I have a summer class that meets every Tuesday and Thursday from 5 to 7, working early gives me time to get myself together and do what I need to do before I have class.
Speaking of, this class has been the bane of my existence and the reason for my chaotic week.
I’ve had sixty pages of reading, two discussion boards, and a project due before class on Thursday. Despite the decent online reviews, this professor is driving me crazy, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m already past the drop deadline to get my semester’s tuition refunded, so I have no choice but to suffer through. It does make me grateful that I had the hindsight to only sign up for one class; nonetheless, I am completely drained.
