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“Why are you so vulgar? I am not going to ‘fuck’ him,” I respond with an emphasis on her crudeness.
“Well, just tell me every detail of what happens between you two. As your best friend, I think you owe me that,” she says.
“Fine. Now, please. I really have to go!” I smile as I plead, the giddiness showing through my voice. As serious as I try to be and fail in my attempt to hide my impatience, Claire knows the gravity of the situation.
“Okay. But Ellie, in all seriousness, whatever happens between you two, just be in the moment. Don’t let your crazy head take over and ruin a good thing.”
I nod as I silently agree to her request. And as I try to answer her, my throat constricts, choking back my words and thinking about how it’s difficult for me to do as she’s saying. Already, Constance’s words have taken over any shielded optimism, turning it into a sour taste in my mouth. It’s the basis of the tug of war that my heart keeps playing, toying with my emotions to the point of exhaustion. It makes me want to give up, throw in the towel, and move on as if none of this ever happened.But what if?
“Ellie?” she calls when I stay silent.
“I heard you. I’ll try,” I answer softly.
“Okay, text me later.”
The line turns silent, signaling the end of our conversation. I sigh.
Just be in the moment.
* * *
“Who is that?” my mom questions, fingers pulling apart the horizontal blinds to our front room window. She shifts her weight between her feet as she peers left to right, her brows knitted together in a furrow as she examines who, or what, is outside.
I peek from behind her shoulder, ready for the barrage of questions that is to come once she realizes the guest on our street is for me. My hands work furiously to pull the zipper on my floral print dress that runs along my side. It strains against the fabric and fights every tug. I had barely made it home with enough time to change my clothes and take a few deep breaths to calm the butterflies that have taken residence in my stomach since this morning.
A black Suburban had pulled up outside my house, and a man in a black suit and sunglasses steps out of the driver’s seat. He walks up to my driveway, squeezing his massive build between our cars as it’s the only walkway available, and stops in front of my front door. The doorbell rings, and Angus trots towards the sound, most likely waking up from his nap from under the kitchen table. He sits in front of the door, tail wagging and ready to greet our unexpected guest.
“I got it!” I call out to my mom as I rush to the door in an attempt to answer it before she does. Without even looking at her, I know she’s expecting an explanation. I open the door to find the same man waiting patiently on the other side. He’s all business as I face him, and he towers over me.
“Ms. Eleanor?” he asks politely.
“Um, yes. That’s me.”
“My name is Hank. Mr. Matthews has asked me to pick you up and escort you to where he will be waiting,” he explains formally.
“Okay. Can I have a minute, please? I’ll be right out,” I answer.
“Of course. Take your time.”
I close the door and turn, only to crash into my mom who has a shocked look on her face.
“Who is that!” She repeats her previous question, now more of a demand rather than an inquiry.
“Mom! Please, I have to go,” I plead.
“Ellie! You really aren’t going to tell me what that’s about? Who the hell is Mr. Matthews?” She follows me to my room, practically levitating around me as I hurriedly grab my purse and search for my keys.
“It’s—What are you even doing home? Why aren’t you at work?”
“Don’t change the subject! I had an early day and brought the rest of my work home.” Her hands move to her hips as she stands her ground. “You’re not going to answer my question?”
“It’s Rhylan Matthews. I met him at the premiere last month when I went with Claire.”
“Rhylan Matthews?!”
I sigh. Actually, it’s more of a suppressed groan. I slump before hurriedly searching for my platform sandals. I hook one of them on my heel, hopping to maintain momentum as I walk towards the door.
“So is this a date? When were you going to tell me about this?”
