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Her phone buzzed on the couch beside her, vibrating precariously close to the edge. She scooped it up before it could fall and slid her finger across the screen.
“Hey, you. I thought we were going to the movies.” Lauren’s voice.
Ellie’s eyes flew to the digital clock on her cable box and she closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Shit. I’m sorry. I was working and I completely lost track of time.”
“Working, or mooning over Sergeant Sexy?”
Ellie bit her lip, chewing on it ruthlessly. “So what if I am?”
“You know, El, it’s the twenty-first century. I’m pretty sure it would be easy to track him down on Facebook or Instagram, or heck, just call the police station where he used to work and ask for his email address or phone number. They must have contact information for him.”
“He doesn’t have Facebook—believe me, I already checked—and I can’t call the police station. It would be weird.”
“Why? From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you two had a pretty intense connection.”
“Because we agreed that we didn’t have a future. That it was just for that night. Which, okay, turned into two nights, but still. That was the deal. I knew that going into it. I don’t want to chase him down like some psycho. We made the rules, and now I’m sticking to them.”
“Screw rules. They’re made for breaking anyway.”
“But don’t you think that if he’d wanted to stay in touch, he would’ve given me his number? His email?”
Silence from the other end. Finally, Lauren spoke. “Maybe, yeah. But maybe he thought you didn’t want it. Maybe he wants you to find him as much as you want him to find you, and you’re both too chicken to pull the trigger and reach out.”
“Reach out from a thousand miles away. Where would this go? My life is here.”
“Your job is portable, your townhouse is sellable, and you and I could have weekly Skype dates. Please. Your parents would love coming to visit you in Seattle.”
“No, they wouldn’t. My mom hates flying, and Dad travels all the time for work.” It was a flimsy excuse, because although she was close with her parents, she knew that Lauren was right, and they’d support her moving to Seattle if that’s what she really wanted.
“Mmmhmm.”
Ellie sighed, her stomach tying itself into knots. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t just show up on his doorstep in Seattle.”
“Oh my God, Ellie!” Lauren practically squealed into the phone. “That’s exactly what you should do. Can you imagine how romantic that would be?”
“I don’t think getting slapped with a restraining order from a guy who was only supposed to be a two-night fling qualifies as romantic. I’m not doing it.”
“Okay. Fine. Maybe flying out there unannounced isn’t a good idea. But you should still try to at least find his email address or something. Just to see. What if he’s the one? If you don’t take a risk, you’ll never know. I know you said you wanted to play it safe, but safe is boring. Safe doesn’t make your heart pound and your blood rush and your head spin. Safe doesn’t make you feel like you’re floating. Ellie, I’m telling you, love, even when it’s real and good and true, is very rarely safe.”
As the truth of Lauren’s words sunk in, Ellie sat back on the couch, feeling as though she’d just been socked with a stun gun. Paralyzed and disoriented and frankly, a little scared.
Holy shit. Did she love Matt?
“I can probably still make it to the movies. Want me to come meet you?” Ellie rubbed a hand over her forehead, feeling guilty for standing up her friend.
“Are you eating ice cream in your jammies?”
“Possibly.”
“Then no. We’ll go another time. Think about what I said. Okay?”
Ellie closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
After hanging up with Lauren, she tossed her phone on the couch, re-opened her laptop and pulled up a new tab in her web browser, navigating to Expedia.com. She searched for flights from Denver to Seattle, but closed the window before the results came up.
Who did she think she was, Meg freaking Ryan?
Opening yet another new tab, she searched for “Matt Grayson email” and sifted through a handful of links before she closed the lid of the laptop again, dragging her hands through her hair and causing her pencil-bun to fall out. She had no idea if any of those Matt Graysons were her Matt Grayson. She cringed, thinking of what she could possibly write. “Hi! This is Ellie Richards, and I’m looking for the Matt Grayson who used to work for the Laramie County Sheriff’s office and had a lot of really fantastic sex with me on New Year’s Eve. If this isn’t you, please delete this. If not, hi Matt! Hope you don’t think I’m a crazy stalker!”
