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I tried to talk to her at the party, but she ran off, wanting nothing to do with me. I can’t blame her. I mean, come on, I transferred out of her math class the day after our date instead of being honest with her–like I was a fucking teenager faking sick to get out of a test.
“Maci?” I say as she takes a step away from me toward the fire.
She spins on her heel to face me, surprise written on her face with those same wide brown eyes she had when I showed up on my motorcycle. “Troy? …Hey. What are you doing here?” At least she didn’t tell me to get lost this time.
“I’m here to party?” It was a weird question to ask, but I guess she’d have no reason to know Dean and I are friends, so I add, “I played football in high school with one of the guys who lives here.”
“Ooh, okay, that’s cool,” she mutters, the last word almost cut off with the Truly Lemonade she brings to her lips.
“Yeah, what about you? You’re the last person I expected to see tonight.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be repeating the mistakes I made last time.” She laughs nervously.
I expected her to be more relaxed after reading the letter I wrote her. I was flooded with guilt after seeing her and never assuring her that my bailing after our date had everything to do with me. She left the party alone and completely trashed, so I followed her at a distance–like a creep–through the shadows between the street lamps as we walked past the closed restaurants and shops near campus. It wasn’t until she was safely inside her apartment that I realized it was really time to get my shit together. It pushed me to grow the fuck up and be an adult who communicates with the level of honesty I want in return. The two mile walk from her apartment to my house in the fresh air and silence helped me find the words for the apology she deserved. I’m hoping now that she seems at least a little more open to talk face to face an attempt at a conversation might be more successful. “Sooooo, you’ll let me talk to you this time?”
“Umm, I mean if you want. But I’m sure whatever we were going to talk about then doesn’t matter anymore.” Her statement and the way she uncomfortably rocks on her heels makes me think maybe she never got my letter. Carley said she’d give it to her.
My chance to clear the air is now, then. “I guess not, but I did want to explain myself. I figured I at least owe you that.”
“It’s okay, Troy. Really. Water under the bridge or however that expression goes.”
My response is cut off by my name said in a tone I can only describe asback the fuck away from my girl.By the time I register Dean has joined our conversation, his fist is reached out, waiting for mine. “Hey, Dean,” I acknowledge him as I return the fist bump, letting my eyes drift to his other hand, possessively on Maci’s ass. “Ahhh.” My thoughts catch up to what my eyes are taking in as Dean kisses Maci’s hair. How did I miss she was wearing his sweatshirt, especially when I know his name is printed across the back? When the puzzle pieces are finished locking together in my mind, it hits me how relieved I am about this. Dean’s great, and I’m glad she found him. Hopefully he can give her what I couldn’t. I smile, genuinely happy for both of them.
Maybe Maci is right, and this conversation that’s been weighing on me doesn’t matter anymore. Either way, I take Dean’s hint and decide to get lost. “I’ll see you guys around. Talk to ya later, Maci.”
I take off down the hill to find Cooper. Maybe some things work out better than you thought they would. I really fucking hope that’s what happens for me when I move to California after graduation.
CHAPTER THREE
LEXY
Tenmonthslater(October)
The clip of my last hair extension snaps in place. I run my fingers gently through the strands, blending it seamlessly with my bright blonde hair, falling over my shoulders in perfect curls. I put a thin line of glue on the edge of my fake lash, blowing on it lightly. While I wait for it to get tacky, I glance sideways at Maci. My best friend stares straight through my TV as some corny reality show plays, her fingers tugging on her straight brown hair mindlessly. She’s totally zoned out, the same way she’s been for the past month since she and Mack broke up.
I was a little anxious when Mack brought Maci around for the first time–worried I’d lose my best friend. Instead, I gained another. Maci moved to Los Angeles from Oregon four months ago to be with Mack, and it’s worked out well for me even if it didn’t work out as well for them. We clicked the first time we met. I hate that they broke up because they seemed so good together, but since Maci moved in, I’ve experienced how soul crushing heartbreak can be. It’s another reminder that love is not for me. I’ll stick to having commitment free fun.
It’s also exactly why we are going out tonight. Maci still hasn’t told me what really happened, and I’m trying not to push her, but it’s also frustrating. I can see the emptiness in her dark, brown eyes as she stares into the TV. Looking back at the mirror to put my eyelash in place, I see the same vacancy in my bright blue eyes. I’m not in the best place lately either, but right now I want to be the best friend Maci needs, like she’s been for me. She may have moved in after the breakup and constantly thanks me for letting her stay here, but she has no idea how much it’s actually helpedmefrom losing my mind in this city I hate so much.
There has to be something we can do to get her out of her head for a while. “You need to get out of this funk,” I declare as I press my other false eyelash in place. I think for a moment. “I have an idea.”
Her eyes roll in place of a response.
My mischievous smile makes an appearance as I reach for my light pink lip gloss. “You know that movieYes Man, where Jim Carrey has to say ‘yes’ to everything anyone asks him? Let’s do that. For the whole weekend. You don’t have work, and I’m not on the schedule until Saturday night. And you need some excitement in your life.”
I can practically see the excuses forming in her mind before she huffs out, “Ugh, how about not? That sounds absolutely terrifying. Plus, I don't know… what if men are involved? I’m not ready for that.”
“Maci, I love you, but I don't care. You are choosing to not be with Mack, and you still won’t tell me why, which is fine, but I also refuse to encourage you to stay stuck because you aren’t sure yet if he’s going to be in your future. Anyway, it’s only one weekend, and what’s the worst that can happen? We will set a few ground rules if it makes you feel better.” I’ve heard the term opposites attract for couples, but I feel like it works for friendships too–at least with Maci and me. She hates getting out of her shell but thrives when I encourage her. I suck at letting people in, and her vulnerability has softened me. I won’t go as far to say I believe in the potential of love or hope for happily ever after the way she does, but I’m definitely not as cynical as I used to be.
“Fine,” she mumbles, before hopping up and heading to my closet. I still refuse to be all emotional in the way I see some girl friends act, but I secretly like how comfortable Maci feels in our friendship, doing things like stealing my clothes. It makes me feel like I have the sister I always wanted but never got as an only child.
When we get to 3rd Base, we head straight to the cocktail lounge. The white leather booths lining the far wall are full, as is every seat at the sleek white bar top that wraps around the liquor shelves in the middle of the room. Technically, it’s a sports bar, evident by the giant TVs hanging above the alcohol and the room off to the side with stadium seating in front of a wall of screens. It’s more upscale than most bars, though.
It’s way more crowded than usual, but I’m determined to find a seat for us so we can talk about our epic weekend of what will hopefully be full of a few adventurous yeses. We spot a dirty high top table and wait next to it in hopes we can claim it once it’s clean since it’s seat yourself.
Maci seems lost in her head. She’s leaning against the table, lazily scanning the room as if she’s not convinced the answer to all her problems might be floating out there but wants to check anyway. I know a drink will help her relax a bit, so I search for a server. After a moment, my eyes connect with blue ones just a shade lighter than mine. Once I’m certain I have his attention, based on the fact that he’s now heading straight toward us, I take a moment to take in the rest of him. His hair is also a similar color to mine, maybe a shade or two darker blond. It's short and styled perfectly in place but not in that overly gelled way that so many LA men wear it. A black dress shirt pulls across his muscles, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his dark jeans hang on his hips perfectly. Damn, he’s hot. Even more so with plates stacked up his forearm and three glasses in his hand, something I can be impressed by as a fellow bartender. I send out a silent prayer to the Universe that he asks me something I can say yes to. Anything.
His voice breaks through my heated thoughts. “Do you need a table? I can clean this for you.”
