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Jake, on the other hand, probably wouldn’t be. I’m sure he would be mortified if he knew I sat in on the group like that. I’m kind of mortified, come to think of it. I dig my phone out of my bag and check my messages. I haven’t heard back from him at all, even though he had told me he would text when he landed, but I’m sure he’s busy. I decide not to worry about. I know I’m not that girl—at least I haven’t been yet. Still, I log onto Facebook to see if he’s been active, telling myself that I just want to make sure that he made it there okay.
I start scrolling Facebook and see he’s been tagged in a photo with some pretty, tall blonde girl kissing his cheek—the kind of girl he looks like he should be with. They look good together.‘Finally got to spend some time alone with this guy!’the caption says. Fuck. I really wish I wouldn’t have done that. I turn off the lights, grab a blanket, and sink down into my sofa. It’s a Wonderful Lifeis on, and maybe mine isn’t, but it seems fitting.
Jake does finally text me that he made it okay, he’s sorry he didn’t text back, and that he has been super busy. I leave it on read.
nine
“Whatintheactualhell is going on here? Are you, Ruby Vaughn, decorating for the holidays? Are youfestivenow? Don’t get me wrong, I like it, but I’m thrown.”
It’s 9:00 PM when Evie bursts into my apartment carrying three or four garment bags. I’d forgotten she had said she was going to bring some over for the fundraiser tonight, which was still days from now. Who knew what would happen between then and now?
“Just as promised—a few dresses that I think would look amazing on you,” she says, laying the bags across the countertop.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Thanks.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing, I’m fine. I’m just supposed to go to that thing tonight with Alex, you know, and I’m pretty tired.”
“Great, don’t go. But I don’t think that’s it. Are you sure there is nothing else wrong?”
I tell her about my weird day, my conversation with Alex the other night, and try to bring up the Facebook post to show her, but find that sometime in the last few hours, it’s either been deleted or he untagged himself. I don’t know how to take that. I lay it all out for Evie, and she is less than impressed.
“Okay. That’s a lot, Ruby. I wish I didn’t have somewhere to be so that I could stay here and talk some sense into you. You’re self-sabotaging with that guy; I told you not to do this.”
“What do you mean? How is this my fault?” I ask her.
“The picture, Ruby. It’snothing. He probably untagged himself because he didn’t like how it would look if his girlfriend saw it—or if anyone saw it, really.”
“I don’t know, Evie. I don’t even know if I am his girlfriend. Maybe I don’t even have a right to the feelings that I’m having right now.”
“You’re not going to go to that concert with Alex now, are you?”
“Yeah, I guess I am. You didn’t see him the other night. He was really upset. I haven’t been a good friend lately, and I feel bad about it,” I tell her.
“You have nothing to feel bad about. You’re more than entitled to date whoever you want. I really don’t think you should be going anywhere with him right now, not that I think you will listen to me. Just…when you’re with him, consider that maybe he's acting the way that he is because he sees that he’s losing control over you.”
“We’re just friends.”
“He’s always known how you felt about him, and he has never done anything about it except use it to keep you close and keep you from ever taking anyone else seriously. That's not a friend. Ruby, you guys have never been friends.”
That one kind of hurt. The hits keep coming.
“Evie, I know you mean well, I just don’t see it that way.”
“Okay, Ruby. I have to get going. I wish I could get out of this thing with Garrett so I could go with you at least, but I can’t. I’m going to leave these dresses here. Any of them would look great on you, but I have a feeling you’re going to love the black one.”
“Thanks,” I say half-heartedly.
“Hey,” she says. “Your boyfriend will be back in two days. Just ask him about the picture if it’s bothering you that much. Don’t fuck it up with Alex.”
“Okay,” I tell her, knowing there are no circumstances under which I bring up that picture, especially since it was maybe only up for a matter of minutes.
“And also, you can’t stalk his therapist, Ruby. Joe does that onYou. Do you want to be Joe?”
“I’m not...no. I don’t want to be Joe,” I relent. “But the decorations are nice, right?”
“Gives it a little something,” she says smiling. “I’m going to text you relentlessly, but I’d better go.”
