Everything Unexpected (10 page)

What if he says that regardless of the promise he made, things have changed and being around me now is just too weird. That it’s impossible for us to go back to the way we were. That it was stupid of us to believe in such a thing.

It would kill me. Losing Shane would kill my heart.

Perhaps the best strategy, the only way I can ensure
that night
won’t come between our friendship, is to act like it had no effect at all. I’ll build my case around the notion that yes, we had sex, but it’s of no consequence to me or how I feel about him so, in turn, it shouldn’t be to him either. It was a onetime thing. I was curious after Bryan’s comments (fucking, Bryan!), and I foolishly acted on them but now things can go back to normal.

Perfect! That’s the best way to handle this.

Act like it wasn’t a big deal and it won’t turn into one.

The front door swings open before I even knock, as though he’s been waiting, checking through the peephole for me to arrive.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.” I smile awkwardly.

God, this is already brutal.

He steps aside and lets me walk in. Once in the living room, a nervous energy rushes over me as I recall what happened the last time I was here. I suddenly wish I had a bit of that same liquid courage that led to everything. But just enough to take the edge off. Enough to get me through saying what I’ve already carefully planned out.

I straighten, turning to face him. We stare at each other, neither of us apparently ready to be the first to speak. To bring up the giant fucking elephant in the room.

“Do you want something to drink?” he offers.

He said those exact words right before I went into his bedroom. I shake my head, both to answer him and to clear my mind of the memory.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says. His head dips down, glancing at the floor briefly, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “You left pretty early Sunday.”

“I know,” I answer, guiltily. “Sorry about that.” I see now that my leaving like that hurt him a little. “I guess I didn’t handle it very well.”

He looks up at me, our eyes meeting. “You think?”

I blink at his scolding, but I guess I kind of deserve it.

“Are you okay?” he asks sincerely, changing his tone. “Saturday was awesome, Leah. Really. Everything from the party to…after. It was…amazing.” He takes a step forward, removing his hands from his pockets and raising them up in the air. “Comb—”

Oh god. I hear a “but” coming. He’s about to say exactly what I’ve been fearing. That even though we promised not to let things change, there’s no going back. Not for us at least. The need to stop him before he says anything more is so strong, I feel my body shake. I need to say something before whatever it is he wants to say is out and impossible to take back.

“It was nothing,” I abruptly interrupt.

Now or never, Leah. Tell him Saturday night was no big deal. That it didn’t affect you and shouldn’t let it affect him. Save the friendship!

He stops, taken aback my words. “Sorry?”

This is it, Leah. Say everything you meticulously planned to say.

“I agree. Saturday was amazing.” I force a smile. “I left early Sunday because I didn’t want you to feel obligated to say anything. There’s nothing that needs to be said,” I say with as much candor as I possibly can. “I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re both fine. I was curious. You were curious. We scratched an itch and now it’s gone. Everything can go back to normal.”

I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. I look for his sigh of relief or weight visibly being lifted from his shoulders, but I don’t get any of those reactions. Instead, I watch him blink a few times, confused. Like I’m an equation he’s trying to solve.

“Okay,” he says, a little unsure. He moves his hands to the back pocket of his jeans, realizing he’s been holding them out in the air this whole time. He smiles, only it doesn’t reach his eyes like it usually does. “Glad we were able to clear that up.”

His voice sounds distant, a little harsh even. Have I insulted him in some way? Should I have worded that different? I wish I could just ask him like I used to be able to ask him anything, but I can’t. Not about this.

After a moment, his smile becomes more sincere and he moves towards me. “So we’re good?” he asks.

I smile as naturally as I can, even though I feel like I might be sick. “We’re perfect.”

For the first time in forever, there’s a hesitation when he leans in to hug me. But once I wrap my arms around him, he relaxes. His lips press against my neck as he speaks. “I missed you, Comb,” he murmurs.

“I missed you too,” I answer back, holding him a bit tighter. But the feeling of him against me feels different now. More intimate than before. I’m the first to let go, needing some space between our bodies. “I wanted to see you before you left. Make sure we cleared the air,” I say, taking a few steps back.

His brows scrunch together. “You don’t want to stay a while? We could hang out, watch some TV. There’s probably a
Friends
episode on somewhere.”

I shake my head, even though part of me would love nothing more. “I’ve had a long day. You have an even longer one tomorrow. We’ll hang out as soon as you get back.”

And just like that Sunday morning, I’m rushing to get out of here. I can’t stay here any longer and it will only be a matter of seconds before he’ll be able to tell.

“You sure?” I can hear the disappointment in his voice.

“Positive. As soon as you get back,” I reiterate.

I walk past him, catching a whiff of his scent as I pass by, and it makes me dizzy. His voice causes me to turn and look back before I’m out the door.

“Miss me while I’m gone, would ya,” he says, his lips pressed together, his smile tight.

It hurts to see it because I can tell it’s somewhat forced. He’s never had to force a smile with me before. Already, I can see how things are changing between us.

I nod, forcing my own smile. “Always,” I answer quietly, before closing the door.

“WHAT THE FUCK? What in the fucking, fuck?” Panic streaks through my voice.

I stare down at the small white plastic stick in my hand. A small white plastic stick with two very clear, very distinct pink lines. This can’t be happening. I must be dreaming. I somehow must have fallen asleep at Holly’s and I’m having a nightmare. I urge myself to close my eyes and count to five, taking long, deep inhales. I keep repeating to myself this isn’t real. That I’m not really in Holly’s bathroom, standing over the sink with a tiny stick that feels like it could weigh twenty pounds. I repeat it over and over. Slowly, I reopen my eyes and wait for relief to wash over me at seeing anything but Holly’s bathroom. But I do see it. I am faced with my own reflection in Holly’s bathroom mirror, her bright red shower curtain burning into vision from behind me. I cast my eyes downwards.

“Oh my God.” I try and swallow down the acid building up in my throat.

There’s a soft knock at the door before it slowly opens. Holly’s face peeks inside.

“And?” she asks, walking in.

I lift the stick to show her the results. I feel lightheaded, like I’m about to faint. I look around the small bathroom, lowering the toilet seat and collapsing on it.

“It’s okay,” Holly starts. “That was an old test. It’s been under my sink for at least a year. It’s most likely a false positive,” she says calmly.

Is there such a thing?

“How late did you say you were?”

“Four days,” I whisper.

“That’s not that long,” she says with confidence. “I’ve been that late plenty of times.”

I look up at her, my face numb. “I’m never late.”

She brushes my remark off and spurs into action. “Well, this time you are!”

Pulling me off the toilet seat, she stuffs the used stick and empty test box in the small garbage can by the vanity. “We’re going to the pharmacy and buying every single test they have,” she says eyeing me. And with a little less resolution than before, “You’ll see I’m right.”

THE TRIP TO the pharmacy is a blur. I vaguely recall the hurried steps we took down the block to the corner store. I sort of recall Holly pulling me inside, the hit of air conditioning causing me to shiver. I kind of remember being ushered down several aisles before we find the right one. But every moment of standing in front of all those colorful boxes, recognizing the brand names from commercials, is all too vivid.

Thank God I have Holly with me. While I stare at the wall of doom, unable to move, she’s throwing box after box into the little basket she grabbed by the entrance.

“Grab two of those,” she instructs, pointing to the large bottles of water near the cash register. “You’re going to need them.”

I grab two bottles as Holly pays for our purchase. My purchase. My brain is telling me to stop her, pay for all this myself, but my body can’t seem to do anything but follow Holly’s simple instructions.

Walk this way.

Grab that.

I just do as she tells me.

“You’ll take these tests and we’ll know this worry was all for nothing.”

I nod, incapable of anything else. I’ve become a fucking invalid.

THE WALK BACK to Holly’s is just as quick. We get off the elevator and I follow her to her door, inside, then run right into her back. Unprepared for the sudden halt, I look around her to see what’s caused the sudden stop. Eddy and Bryan are sitting on the couch in the living room, watching us.

“What are you doing here?” Holly shrieks while casually hiding the bag with our purchases behind her.

Eddy’s eyebrows lift. “I live here.” But it sounds like he’s answering in the form of a question.

Holly fidgets. “I mean, weren’t you supposed to be out playing golf or something?” her voice relaying a slightly accusatory tone.

“We were, but look at it outside. Storm’s coming,” Bryan says, cocking his head to the window.

A storm? I glance out the window and see the dark gray clouds slowly rolling in. It’s rare for it to storm in the late afternoon this time of year.

“Now we’re watching the game.” He points to the television.

“Can’t you do that somewhere else?” she asks.

“Why?” Eddy questions.

“Because you said you’d be out!” Holly argues.

Eddy stares at her for a moment, trying to rationalize what’s happening. “Why are you upset?” His chin drops, seemingly embarrassed for what he’s about to ask. “Is this…are you on your…monthly?”

Bryan snorts loud enough for all of us to hear.

I’d find humor in Eddy’s embarrassment too if I wasn’t already dealing with the lack of my own…monthly.

Holly tenses and a standoff occurs in the small living room. I begin to feel a little guilty. I don’t want my mess to cause any problems for my friends, especially for Holly and Eddy. I need to say something to alleviate the tension that’s formed in the room, but my brain isn’t working fast enough.

“No,” Holly says, rolling her shoulders. “We were just looking for some girl time.” She looks back at me. Her eyes flash, an idea popping into her head. “Leah has a hot first date tomorrow night and she wanted to borrow an outfit. We were hoping for no interruptions.”

She winks at me, encouraging me to nod along. I do because all I’ve been doing today is following Holly’s lead, but wait. What did she just say? I have a…date?

“Granted,” Eddy says, leaning back against the couch. “We’ll stay right here.” He turns his attention back to the television. Bryan’s attention, however, falls on me.

His eyes narrow. “You have a date tomorrow?”

I haven’t seen Bryan since that awful morning in the kitchen. It’s safe to say I’ve been avoiding him. I have no idea what Shane’s told him, nor do I have time to think about it right now. I have bigger issues in front of me than Bryan. Obviously, I don’t have a date tomorrow, but I don’t want to bring any unwanted attention to myself by contradicting what Holly said. So I nod once more.

“Yes.” Only one word but my voice still shakes.

“A first date on Valentine’s Day?” he asks, skeptically.

Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day? Last I remember, it was a week away. How could I have lost track of what day it was when I’ve been counting them so carefully?