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The next morning, I awoke to a quiet, empty room with a headache surpassed only by my mortification. The alarm clock on my night stand read half past nine. I wasn’t sure what time Dylan had left during the night, but then, I guessed it didn’t really matter.
I took out my phone, still in the back pocket of the jeans that Dylan took off of me, and checked for any incoming messages.
Nothing.
My heart sank. What had I done?
Ruined the best thing that has ever happened to you, that’s what.
Was there any way to fix this?
Yes. The best thing I could do was pretend it had never happened. I just needed a couple of days to let things blow over, and then carry on like nothing had changed.
So that was what I did.
* * *
School and work kept me really busy the following week, and I was really glad for the distraction.
I didn’t text or call Dylan at all, nor did I hear from him, so I was pretty sure I was right in my assumption that he did not have any feelings for me beyond friendship.
I did have time to process my own feelings for Dylan, and I knew that things were only going to end badly for me if I let things keep going for much longer. I had to wrap things up and let him go.
I considered leaving things at what they were and just letting him go about his life without interfering with it anymore. I ended up deciding against this, because I wanted to end things on a positive note in a w
ay that let him know there were no hard feelings and that things did not have to be weird between us if we ever ran into each other around campus.
I was sitting with Clara at lunch on Thursday when I asked her, “You up for going to a soccer game tomorrow night?”
She shrugged. “Sure. What time?”
“I’ll have to find out for sure, but I think it starts around seven.” I paused. “Maybe I’ll invite Becker.” I couldn’t even look her in the eye when I said that, so I just looked down at my food.
“Do you think it’s a good idea to bring another guy to a soccer game that Dylan is playing in?” Clara was understandably skeptical of my motives.
I had told Clara about my drunken night and attempted seduction with Dylan. She took it so much better than I did, but she had no idea how mortified I really was about all of it. She also was not as convinced as I was that Dylan had no feelings for me.
“Yes, I think it’s necessary. It isn’t some kind of trick to make him jealous or anything. It’s my way of showing him that things don’t have to be weird between us, and that I’m good with us being friends like we have been since we met,” I explained.
“Okay. I can see where you’re coming from. I hope Dylan sees it that way, too,” she said.
We finished our lunch and went our separate ways, and I texted Becker on the way to my class. Of course, he was more than happy to hang out at a soccer game with Clara and me on Friday.
I almost felt guilty about making plans with Becker. It wasn’t that I had ruled out anything going anywhere with us, but if I was honest with myself, I really had no desire to explore anything deeper with him at this point. He didn’t seem like he was trying to get into anything serious with me either, so I let this reasoning alleviate any guilt.
I also thought inviting Clara and not just going alone with Becker would send a better message all the way around than going with Becker alone.
Now I just needed to see how things would go.
* * *
That Friday evening, I finished my shift at the counseling center and rushed home. My stomach was a giant ball of nerves, but I tried to focus on the simple tasks of getting ready.
Once I was all dressed and ready to go, I met Clara in the living room. We were both dressed to show our team spirit with our long-sleeved tee shirts, and a fleece blanket with our school mascot on it.
A knock on the door let us know that Becker had arrived, so the three of us left for the game.
Once we got to the soccer stadium on campus, we went to find our seats in the bleachers, and Becker offered to get us snacks and drinks, so we took him up on the offer. He returned about ten minutes later and sat close to me, handing Clara her hot cocoa and putting his arm around my shoulder as he handed mine to me with the other hand.
