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“I haven’t gotten that far. Denver, I’m so out of my depth here. Part of me wants to go back to being friends who argue a lot.”
“We can still be that. But can we be more than that, too?”
“Like where we need to report to Marcel about it? I don’t think that’s a good idea. We already have to tell him about getting kicked out of the museum.”
Oh, I was reporting to Marcel. First thing Monday morning I would be in his office laying it all out there. I just didn’t know what I’d be laying out for him. A lot of that depended on how this weekend went. Sadie needed time to come around to the idea of us, and maybe I did, too. But the difference was, I was done pretending, denying, and backtracking. As crazy as it sounded, I wanted to be all in, to hold nothing back in a way I’d never done before. I wanted to get in another game of chicken with Sadie, one where both of us were too stubborn to ever let each other go.
For now, I was content to have her on the phone with me. I moved to other topics, knowing if I pushed too hard, I’d scare her. We talked about work, our childhoods, what we watched on TV, strange stories from her time in carpool, and the best things we’d ever eaten. We talked until I thought my phone might burn my ear off. I’d plugged it in to keep the battery from dying. I wasn’t sure if the phone was being charged or cooked.
“Sadie, I’m going to bed now. When are we meeting up tomorrow? I mean today. It’s almost two in the morning.”
“We’re meeting up today?” Sadie yawned.
“Yes, dear. We got interrupted earlier, and I like to finish what I start.”
“Who says you started anything?”
“You’re right. You started something because you’re a tease. Well, consider me hooked. Reel me in already.”
“I’m still thinking about it. And that’s not me playing games. I hope you know that. It’s just, I swore I’d never do this with you. Because you’re, well, you’re you.”
“Explain.”
She was quiet for a few seconds, and I knew whatever she was about to say was going to be uncomfortable and yet totally necessary. It was the last part of the wall keeping me out.
“How did you know you could use dish soap to get lipstick out of clothes?”
That was not the question I was expecting. “They were talking on the radio a few years back about how to get lipstick out of masks. It was one of those random things that stuck with me.”
“Oh.”
“Sadie.”
“What?”
“What are you really asking?”
“Nothing. I was just curious.”
This was absolutely not nothing, and I think I knew why she couldn’t say it. I’d been jealous of a guy who talked to her in a restaurant once. She had a line of my ex-girlfriends to think about, including one I used to parade right in front of her with muffins.
“I’m a flirt, and I’ve dated a lot. That’s what you’re saying.”
She sighed. “Yeah.”
“And that worries you.”
“I wouldn’t say it worries me. Not as your friend.”
“But if we became more, that’s an issue for you?”
“No. Yes. Okay, I’m going to try to put this into words. I’m concerned you’re just going with the flow, like, yeah, let’s try this. Why not? I like dating. I’ll see where this goes. I don’t know. Maybe that’s how we should treat this.”
Ouch. “As something casual.”
“Yeah.”
“Sadie, I don’t want casual with you. And if you want casual with me, then maybe we should just be friends.”
