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I took a few calming breaths and sat on the edge of the bed. Then I dialed her number.
My palms were sweaty. My heart pounded in my ears. It dialed for so long I was about to give up. I pulled the phone from my ear, and that's when I heard her voice, "Hey," she said quietly.
"Hey!" I said, too loud. Too fast. "How...uh...how are you? Did you get my text?"
Silence.
Eventually I looked at my phone to see if she'd hung up, but she hadn't. "Amanda?"
"Yeah, Logan. I got it," she sighed out loud.
"Is something wrong? I mean...fuck. Are you pissed at me?" She had no right to be. I mean, I don't think she did. "Did I do something?"
"Uh, no," she said, but it came out as a question.
I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, thinking about my next words. "Amanda, I'm new to all of this, so if I've done something you need to tell me. Should I have called instead of texted? I mean, something really did come up. I'm not lying."
Silence. Again.
Followed by more silence.
Then finally she spoke, "Can I be honest with you, Logan?"
"No, I want you to lie to me." I tried to joke, but I don't think she got it.
The silence was unbearable.
"I feel like maybe you feel sorry for me or something," she started. "No, not sorry. I don't know what the right word is. Let me start again..." She was mumbling. "If last night was just that, just one night, then that's all good. I get it. For a second I thought that maybe it wasn't, but it's fine. Really. If you don't want to see me again, you don't have to-"
"I told you that I wanted to. I said in the text I wanted to see you tomorrow. What the hell?" I was being louder than I should be, but I couldn't help it. If this was what dealing with girls was like, I don't know how the fuck Dylan and Cam did it.
"You're right, I'm sorry," she said quietly.
And now I felt like a dick for kind of yelling.
"I guess I'm just a little wigged out by this. I mean you. By you. You scare me."
"I scare you? How?" I spat out.
"Because..." she said, her voice softening. "I'm just scared that I might like you..." I heard her sigh loudly. "Pick me up from work at five?" she finally asked.
"Yes!" I was a little too excited. I calmed down and softened my voice. "I mean yes, if that's good for you, yes. I want to. I mean I'd like to take you out again."
She giggled a little.
"Amanda?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm trying really hard not to be the me you think I am. I'm not that person. At least not with you."
Truth.
THIRTEEN
-Past-
The visit.
I spent the next day moping around the house like a loser trying to find something that would make time go faster until I picked her up from work. I went to the store earlier and bought the gummy bears. I even opened them and sorted the red ones from the rest. The smug asshole in me was pretty impressed. The general asshole in me heard the sound of whips in my head.
I kept looking at the clock, waiting for a good time to leave. I didn't want to show up early and seem too eager. At four forty-five I rushed out the front door and ran straight into a body.
"Holy shit," she yelped.
I held onto her and tried to regain my balance, and when I finally did, I took a step back. "Micky."
She stood with bags of groceries in both hands and an awkward smile on her face. "I thought that, maybe...but I see you're on your way out. Never mind." She turned around and started to walk away, bags still in hands.
"Wait."
She spun to face me, her eyes glazed with wetness. She did that thing chicks do when their eyes go big so that the tears don't fall. "Hey, are you okay? What's going on?"
"Nothing." She sniffed once. "I just thought I'd make you and your dad dinner—kind of like a thank you, for yesterday, I guess." She shrugged, looking right at me.
And for some reason I couldn't fucking say no.
"Dad's not home, but I eat enough for two people." I opened the front door for her and led her to the kitchen. She placed the bags on the counter. I smiled at her, "What are you making? I'm starving."
"Pasta. It's pretty much the only thing I can cook." She started emptying the bags.
I excused myself and left the room so I could text Amanda. I don't know why, but I didn't want Micky to know that I had plans. I didn't want her to think that it wasn't okay for her to be there.
Logan: Hey. I'm really sorry to do this...something came up and I can't make it. I'll call you later though. Promise.
When I got back into the kitchen, she had two pots on the stove and the burners on. She looked up when I walked in, giving me that same awkward smile. I sat on the island and watched her. I didn't know what to say to her, so the whole situation was a little off. But she was there for a reason, which was enough to make me sit and wait. She looked up from whatever she was cutting and faced me. "So, yesterday, with Jake—that was something, huh?"
I blew out a breath. "Yeah, it was definitely something."
"You didn't tell him what happened." It was a statement.
I shook my head, "It's not my place, Micky."
She looked at me for a long time, our eyes locked, neither looking away. Who knows how long we stood there, watching each other, until finally, she looked back down. Then she spoke; "Jake, he's a great guy..." she trailed off.
