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Fuck, fuck, everyone knows and I have no idea what it means for us. Panic is something I’m not used to. Not at all when it comes to Aubree. But it’s all that takes over until I shove it down.
I’ve wanted Aubree for so long and now I’m afraid I’m going to lose her … but I’ll be damned if I let that happen.
AUBREE
At least I don’t have to go to an office building. That’s one small consolation as I stare at my phone wishing a message would pop up. None do, but I count my blessings on the Uber ride back to my apartment, which is on the second floor of a neat brick building with a hair salon on the ground floor and a couple more units up above. I don’t mind the muffled sounds of the dryers and music coming through the floor. It’s still quiet when I shut the door and lock it behind me with an exacerbated sigh. Not early enough for the first clients of the day.
Thank God I don’t have a set schedule, because I desperately need a shower. There’s no way I can sit at my desk and go to work while I’m wearing clothes that smell like Jackson.
Maybe it’s pathetic, but I can admit it makes me a bit somber to take them off and drop them in the hamper.
I go through all the motions. Shampoo and soap and conditioner. I dry my hair and put on makeup.
Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t help. With a hot cup of tea at my side, I take my seat at my computer with a long to-do list and a mind that’s full of Jackson. And what we did last night. And how I left him sleeping on the sofa. And how I wish I were still with him. I should have pretended to be sleeping for as long as it took.
In my defense, I’m not good with hangovers.
Graphic design has nothing to do with the man I slept with last night. For fifteen whole minutes, I concentrate on my projects. A new logo for a company based in the city. A banner for an artist’s website. The background for a set of wedding invitations.
None of them are exactly presentable … but I try.
All of it takes way longer than it should, because I can’t focus.
The only thing that draws my attention is my phone. Every two minutes, I stare at it, willing it to ping and let me know Jackson texted me to tell me how much he wants a repeat of last night.
After about an hour, I find the tea cold and my thoughts turning on me.
I don’t know what’s worse. If Jackson texts or if he doesn’t. If he ignores what happened last night, then I guess that’s something to go on. If he texts and wants to talk …
Butterflies flutter deep in my stomach. It’s hard to tell if they’re the nervous kind or the excited kind.
Of course, there’s always the third option, which is that he texts and says we should pretend it didn’t happen and was a mistake.
I fly out of my seat so fast the office chair nearly hits the wall as it rolls backward and I put my phone on the kitchen counter, plugging it in to charge. After that, I buckle down for a solid hour of work. There’s not a chance in hell I’m going to miss a deadline and get laid off because I let my crush tear up my heart.
It doesn’t take long, though, for it to buzz from all the way across the apartment and I’m out of my seat before I can think twice. It’s silly to run across my little apartment just for a notification that could be a text from anyone, but I do.
Jackson: You ran off this morning. I should have at least made you breakfast.
Not even one emoji.
How am I supposed to answer this? How am I supposed to respond? I guess I’ll have to play it off like I’m fine and absolutely not obsessed with the outcome of sleeping with my best friend’s brother.
Aubree: Sorry—I just didn’t want to be late for work!
I sent the exclamation mark before I can think twice. Damn it, I should have changed that to a period.
The typing indicator dots appear on my screen and hover there for what seems like forever. He could say anything right now.
Option A: Let’s forget about it. See you Sunday.
Option B: We shouldn’t say anything about this. Keep it between us.
No, I correct my thinking, it’s too late for that. Cheryl saw. She knows we left together. Everyone who was still at the bar knows. And even if they didn’t, there’s no way we’re pretending it didn’t happen.
Jackson: Let me buy you dinner tonight?
My heart’s racing slows up slightly, hope in sight. I send a message back without thinking.
