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That seemed a bit too important to just send via a sms message.
I rubbed my face again, letting out even more air, and decided that my mouth was too dry to talk to anyone. So, I grabbed one of those plastic cups, filled it with water from the bathroom, then drained it down.
In a way, I recognized that I was procrastinating, but I was more than a little wigged out. Lately my problem solving had come down to punching things or putting them into submission until I won. That wouldn’t exactly work here, and I had this feeling that if I said the wrong thing, I could ruin everything with Amber forever.
…if I hadn’t already.
That thought made me blanche and I grabbed my phone again, quickly dialing her number. It felt like I was going burst out of my skin right as I did, so I hung up on the first ring, rolling my eyes at my own idiocy.
I needed to get my shit together. I was a grown man, not some lovelorn teenager with a crush. This time I saved her as a contact then texted her to ask if she was hungry and wanted to have a talk at the diner across from the hotel, my treat.
Of course, she didn’t text back instantaneously, she was probably asleep. In order to stop myself from just manically checking my phone over and over again, I forced myself to wash my face, get dressed and be otherwise presentable for the day.
I tried to take my time as I washed the sweat and other bodily fluids away from the previous night. Part of me was tempted to slide right back into bed and pretend that I had dreamed up the ring on my finger, but that would mean I would be getting right back into the now-filthy sheets that no doubt smelled of Amber.
Several times I felt myself swinging between incredulity that I had actually slept with her, and absolute dread that I had ruined both our friendship and Michelle and Amber’s. Sure, I’d had a crush on her since I first saw that sour expression on her cherubic face, but it wasn’t like I had been hung up on her. I’d dated since her, moving past my high school crush as I entered into college. I wasn’t like I had been waiting in the wings, pining over her like some psycho.
And yet… I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that in the back of my mind, I’d always hoped that maybe, someday, something would happen between us.
I couldn’t put my finger on what it was specifically that drew me to her. It certainly went deeper than her looks -as attractive as she was. Maybe it was because when I first met her, she was so scared, so closed off. I remembered when Missy and she had first started hanging out, she’d jumped at every loud sound and practically snarled at our dad when he had accidentally startled her. While that might turn some people off -and had in fact made her a slight bit of an outcast amongst a lot of people at school- it just endeared her to me that much more.
I couldn’t explain it, but little teenage me had wanted to protect her more than anything. To keep her belly full of warm food, her closet full of nice clothes and her feelings nice and secure. I wanted to bind her up in blankets and make it so she never had to struggle again.
Too bad Amber never got that memo and continued to fight tooth and nail for everything, never giving up, never wavering. But that just made my protective instincts flare up that much more. I could feel those same inclinations already rising to the surface again, and it was easy to imagine something between us. Something easy and tender and just us.
Something that definitely wasn’t marriage.
Oh boy.
By the time I got out of the shower, dried myself off and dressed, I was feeling cleaner but no less anxious. I preoccupied myself with brewing a cup of coffee in the little machine provided by the hotel before finally wandering over to my phone.
I didn’t expect it to have an answer. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Amber never talked to me again. But to my great surprise, I saw the little light flashing that meant I did indeed have a notification.
I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t her, that it was an email from my agent or a calendar reminder. Anything to not get my hopes up then have them crushed. But as I lit up the phone and slid away the lock screen, it was indeed her text that was waiting there for me.
Once more I was tempted to throw the phone away and never look back. But some part of me, maybe the helpless romantic part that I had buried long ago, the part that wanted to protect Amber, make sure she was safe and provided for, hoped that the ring on my finger wasn’t some fluke. Maybe it was just a promise ring. A… an agreement to date. Or something.
