picked the right outfit.
The little summer dress is not one of my own creations. It’s a rarity for me to wear something I haven’t made. I can’t believe it’s November, and I’m wearing a summer dress. Of course I’ve paired it with the cutest cardigan with iron-on patches of blue birds near the top button and knee-high boots. I do look cute, and I know it. The green in the dress even makes my eyes pop.
“I’m picking up Henry from the airport,” I holler back, not wanting to linger while Christian is in his current super-hot, sweaty, sexy state.
“Oh yeah, I forgot that was today.”
“How could you forget? It’s all I’ve been talking about for the past couple days.” I laugh.
“All right, I confess. I didn’t forget. I just didn’t know what else to say,” he says with a smile.
I pause for a moment, wondering what that means. Is he trying to tell me something without actually saying it? I shake my head and continue walking; I need to quit reading into things.
“Something’s not right with you,” I reply, pulling open the door of the ancient truck and stepping up inside, the door creaking loudly as I do. I’d have loved to take the Prius, but I know they need to keep that in case they have to run somewhere with Olivia.
“That’s what you keep telling me. Have fun.”
“Oh, I plan on it!” I exclaim, pulling the door closed behind me. I watch Christian’s face contort. What the hell did that mean? Why did I say that? It sounds like I’m going to strip down in the airport parking lot and have my way with Henry. Of course, let’s be real. It has been a month since I’ve seen him. There’s a very good chance that this may happen. But still … to say that to Christian? I must seem like such a slut.
Just drive, I tell myself. The last thing I want to do is be late when Henry gets off that plane. I throw the truck in reverse, carefully maneuver around Christian’s truck, my thoughts briefly shifting to the fact that two of my friends now own trucks, and though their businesses require it of them, it still feels very odd. Pulling onto the old road behind the shops, which parallels Main Street, gravel sprays out behind the tires.
For the first ten minutes on he road I keep thinking about the comment I made to Christian. I need to quit thinking about it. I flip on the radio but am unable to get a station on the ancient device. Finally, I give up and play music on my phone, dropping it in the hollowed compartment next to the door handle.
Singing at the top of my lungs, I enjoy song after song—Adele crooning her woes, then R.E.M. groaning about the world coming to an end. My heart skips a beat and a lump forms in my throat when the next song comes on. “Only In Dreams” by Weezer. I glance down at the tattoo on my wrist, staring at the words, ‘I just might take the chance.’ The memories of that night come flooding back.
When Christian and I first split, I used to listen to this song over and over, crying myself to sleep. I soon figured out that not listening to it at all was best. I thought of his match to my tattoo on his wrist that read, ‘She’s in my bones.’ We were twenty and at a music festival. We were young, in love, with the rest of our lives ahead of us. At the time we thought there could never be another for either of us. After all, we’d been together since our mid-teen years. We’d seen it all. Together we endured the death of his parents, the destruction of my family life, and any hope of reconciliation with my mother. We were in a place where we trusted each other completely.
I was so naive. Weezer came on, the crowd was electric, and the energy swept us up. After the encore, we didn’t want the night to end. Our friends went out drinking, we knew that wasn’t a good thing for Christian. We walked around, under the stars, quoting the lyrics from our favorite songs to one another. I don’t remember whose idea it was first, but once the idea was out, there
The little summer dress is not one of my own creations. It’s a rarity for me to wear something I haven’t made. I can’t believe it’s November, and I’m wearing a summer dress. Of course I’ve paired it with the cutest cardigan with iron-on patches of blue birds near the top button and knee-high boots. I do look cute, and I know it. The green in the dress even makes my eyes pop.
“I’m picking up Henry from the airport,” I holler back, not wanting to linger while Christian is in his current super-hot, sweaty, sexy state.
“Oh yeah, I forgot that was today.”
“How could you forget? It’s all I’ve been talking about for the past couple days.” I laugh.
“All right, I confess. I didn’t forget. I just didn’t know what else to say,” he says with a smile.
I pause for a moment, wondering what that means. Is he trying to tell me something without actually saying it? I shake my head and continue walking; I need to quit reading into things.
“Something’s not right with you,” I reply, pulling open the door of the ancient truck and stepping up inside, the door creaking loudly as I do. I’d have loved to take the Prius, but I know they need to keep that in case they have to run somewhere with Olivia.
“That’s what you keep telling me. Have fun.”
“Oh, I plan on it!” I exclaim, pulling the door closed behind me. I watch Christian’s face contort. What the hell did that mean? Why did I say that? It sounds like I’m going to strip down in the airport parking lot and have my way with Henry. Of course, let’s be real. It has been a month since I’ve seen him. There’s a very good chance that this may happen. But still … to say that to Christian? I must seem like such a slut.
Just drive, I tell myself. The last thing I want to do is be late when Henry gets off that plane. I throw the truck in reverse, carefully maneuver around Christian’s truck, my thoughts briefly shifting to the fact that two of my friends now own trucks, and though their businesses require it of them, it still feels very odd. Pulling onto the old road behind the shops, which parallels Main Street, gravel sprays out behind the tires.
For the first ten minutes on he road I keep thinking about the comment I made to Christian. I need to quit thinking about it. I flip on the radio but am unable to get a station on the ancient device. Finally, I give up and play music on my phone, dropping it in the hollowed compartment next to the door handle.
Singing at the top of my lungs, I enjoy song after song—Adele crooning her woes, then R.E.M. groaning about the world coming to an end. My heart skips a beat and a lump forms in my throat when the next song comes on. “Only In Dreams” by Weezer. I glance down at the tattoo on my wrist, staring at the words, ‘I just might take the chance.’ The memories of that night come flooding back.
When Christian and I first split, I used to listen to this song over and over, crying myself to sleep. I soon figured out that not listening to it at all was best. I thought of his match to my tattoo on his wrist that read, ‘She’s in my bones.’ We were twenty and at a music festival. We were young, in love, with the rest of our lives ahead of us. At the time we thought there could never be another for either of us. After all, we’d been together since our mid-teen years. We’d seen it all. Together we endured the death of his parents, the destruction of my family life, and any hope of reconciliation with my mother. We were in a place where we trusted each other completely.
I was so naive. Weezer came on, the crowd was electric, and the energy swept us up. After the encore, we didn’t want the night to end. Our friends went out drinking, we knew that wasn’t a good thing for Christian. We walked around, under the stars, quoting the lyrics from our favorite songs to one another. I don’t remember whose idea it was first, but once the idea was out, there
Similar Books
