19. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
A fter a mid-afternoon shower, I was lounging on my couch in my favorite pink silk robe and lavender slippers, with an oversized mug of my favorite mint green tea warming my hands. I’d chosen to treat myself to a cozy afternoon on the couch doing nothing. Well, nothing but basking in the thought that Gregory wanted to spend a weekend with me—not just a date, a weekend!
But instead of relaxing, my mind kept circling back to Brandon’s flirtation and deliberating about how to deal with it. I needed to do something. Surely Annie deserved to know, but was it my place to tell her? Should I text Brandon myself? Perhaps in the light of day, with both of us sober, I could convince him to confess to Annie so I wouldn’t have to.
As the dinner hour approached, I still hadn’t come up with any satisfying course of action, so I decided to satisfy my growling stomach and an oddly specific craving for Italian pasta salad. I quickly dressed, grabbed my coat, and put my hair in a loose ponytail before leaving in search of said salad at a neighborhood shop.
As I was leaving the building, walking fast and deep in thought about my predicament, I suddenly slammed into something very hard and warm. “Oh!” I exclaimed, stepping back unsteadily as I righted my footing and looked up. “Jack! I didn’t see you coming.”
“Nor did I, obviously,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. “Sorry about the smell. And the sweat. And, well, bumping into you.”
“Oh, it’s … probably my fault. I was distracted. You’ve just come back from another run?” My heart was still beating unusually fast, and I stammered, “I mean, of course you have. You’re wearing running clothes and sweaty. I mean, not that you’re sweaty, I mean you probably are, maybe you are, but not—”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest, clearly amused. “Vivi?”
“I’m just going to stop talking.”
“By all means, continue.”
“Jack—”
He laughed, patting me on the arm. “Relax, Vivi. I don’t run twice in one day. I was just lifting a bit at the gym. I know you’re not a fan of strength training, but I try to fit in a few sets here and there. You should see your face right now. I can see I was correct in assuming you wouldn’t want to renew our old gym memberships,” he said, laughter in his eyes.
I just smirked, willing my pulse to settle down.
He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I also figured you must have been too busy as well—too busy to work out, that is.”
I sighed, releasing some of the tension. “Guilty as charged. That is, work is just the usual, but I’ve been trying to be more efficient so I have time for my novel. I’ve only gotten in, like, two runs this week. Or was it one? I can’t remember.”
“Oh, how’s the writing going?” he said, pulling his leg back for a quad stretch. My eyes were drawn to his quad muscles lengthening, but I averted my eyes when I realized I was staring.
What on earth?
“What?”
“Your book, Vivi. How’s it going, writing your book?” He looked at me with slightly narrowed eyes.
I flushed. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t attracted to Jack, of all people!
I must be … projecting my excitement for this weekend onto the nearest male form. Yes, that’s it. Act normal, dammit.
“Oh, it’s going well, very well actually,” I said, as even toned as I could. “In fact, I’ll have fresh material to write about soon because, um, Gregory invited me to go to Duluth with him this weekend.” When Jack didn’t reply, seeming intensely focused on stretching his hamstrings, I added, “And how about you, Jack, how are things?”
“Oh, you know me. Always staying afloat. Always fine.” He punctuated this statement with a laugh that sounded anything but fine. It sounded a little hollow.
I knew better than to probe deeper though, so I glanced down at my watch.
“On your way to somewhere important?” he asked lightly as he began to stretch his arms, which I vowed I wouldn’t look at.
Food. Talk about food. That always makes things better.
“Well, if you count putting my stomach out of its growling misery as important, then yes.” I chuckled to prove I was being normal. “I should go, before the growling starts embarrassing us both.”
Jack laughed, this time a richer, deeper sound. “Oh, Vivi, your growling stomach and I have been dear friends all these years, don’t you know?”
My mouth twitched at the corners. Surely he had no idea how similar that statement was to a comment from one Mr. Bennet in my favorite book: You mistake me, my dear. I have the utmost respect for your nerves. They’ve been my constant companion these twenty years.
“Oh Jack, you’re right, of course. You tolerate it better than I do.”
“Go on then. I’ve got a pile of work to get back to anyway. Long run tomorrow morning, since you’ll be gone Saturday?” he asked tentatively. “Or … do you have other plans?”
I shook my head slowly. “No plans. I’ll see you at 7?”
“On the nose,” he said, popping me on the nose and turning to leave with a tired smile. “Have a nice evening, Vivi. And Vivi’s stomach.”
What just happened? I breathed a sigh of relief that the tension of recent weeks had lessened, though there was some lingering, or even new, awkwardness—likely all on my side. Misplaced lust? I shook my head with a chuckle and recalled the weekend ahead, ripe with romantic opportunities with Gregory.
Jack and I would fully return to our usual, comfortable relationship, just the way I liked it.
My stomach sank as I remembered my Annie/Brandon dilemma.
Darn it, I should’ve asked Jack for advice. He can always figure out the sensible thing to do .
That evening, I stood at Annie’s apartment door, my hand raised in a position to knock. I hesitated, biting my lip. I still hadn’t fully determined how to handle the situation, but I knew I should at least visit to see how Annie was doing. After pulling into the parking lot, I’d driven around to make sure Brandon's rental car wasn't there. The last thing I wanted was to see him again.
I forced myself to take a deep breath because, I rationalized, that’s what one does in this situation, right? Never mind the fact that taking deep breaths had oftentimes worsened the feeling of anxiety for me, rather than alleviating it. Why couldn't I just be normal and calmly count breaths or something? I shook my head, trying to clear the distracting thoughts and focus on my mission.
When I finally knocked, no response came from within. But after several more knocks, the door finally swung open. Sporting a messy ponytail, worn-out slippers, and cough syrup-stained pajamas, Annie uttered a muffled-sounding greeting as she turned and headed back to the couch, where she had spent the last 24 hours, from the looks of it.
“That bad, huh?” I asked, clearing off space on a nearby chair and gathering up crumpled tissues nearby.
“Yuh—” Annie started to say, though it came out more as a growl. After a few long coughs, her voice cleared a bit, and she moaned, “Yeah, I guess so. I’m so embarrassed. This is so not me. I never get sick. Never.”
I nodded sympathetically. “That’s true. Your immune system is legendary.”
My friend scowled, taking a sip from a microwaveable soup container.
“I’m glad to see I wasn’t the first to bring you soup. Have Rafael and Rainn been taking good care of you?”
“Well, they're men, so not particularly. But they try, or at least they did before they had to go to the gym,” Annie replied, rolling her eyes.
I chuckled. “They mean well.” And they did. Annie's roommates were awesome; they almost made me I wish I had roommates. Almost but not quite.
Annie buried her face in her hands. “It had to be this week, didn’t it?”
Hiding a smile, I continued tidying up.
“Brandon came by with some sick-person supplies,” Annie explained after a sneezing fit. “You just missed him—he came by just 10 minutes ago, maybe 15, I don’t know. Did you know that time is all warped when one feels like this?” She rubbed a tissue on her already red nose and tossed it on the floor.
“You're lucky to have not experienced sick brain much in your life,” I said as a frown formed. “Brandon was just here a bit ago? And he didn’t stay and take care of you?”
Annie yawned and shook her head. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t even want him to come over at all—he doesn’t need to get sick from me, and he doesn’t need to see me like this. When have I ever looked worse? Besides, he had an important work thing come up last night after the party. Work has been occupying all his time apparently.” She reached for the tissue box yet again and then turned to fully look at me. “Did he mention the work thing to you last night? Oh, and how did last night go with Gregory?”
“He didn’t mention … that.” He’d likely found a date on Tinder rather than some important work to do. So, he was not only a flirt and a cheater but also a liar.
“Oh, well, how was the party anyway?” Annie said, sitting up to show interest as best she could with what little energy she had. As much as she loved going to parties, gossiping about them was almost as good, in Annie’s eyes.
“It was fine,” I said hastily. I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it. Should I say more? How? I pretended to study my nails, which sorely needed a fresh coat of polish, I realized absently.
“Viv? I may be sick, but I’m not blind. Did something happen with you and Gregory?”
I bit my lip, remaining silent for a long moment before finally meeting her eyes. “Annie, I don’t know how to say this.”
Her brows furrowed as she tilted her head. “To say what? What happened? You can tell me anything.”
“I know, it’s just … I’m not sure it’s my place,” I said miserably. “And you’re already feeling so crappy. I would hate to make you—”
“What the—this is about me ?” Annie asked, eyes widening. After another coughing fit, she managed to fully sit up and looked steadily at me. “What’s going on, Viv?”
“It’s just …” I trailed off, unsure how to say it. “He was, Brandon was, well, kind of—”
“Kind of what?”
“Flirty,” I blurted out.
Annie stared at me for a moment and then abruptly laughed. When I grimaced instead of laughing with her, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, you’re serious? Come on, this is Brandon. He’s naturally very friendly to women, to everyone. Haven’t you noticed that about him before? It’s part of his charm.”
I chewed on my upper lip. “I suppose. But—”
“He comes across as flirty, but I don’t think he means it that way. In fact, I know he doesn't. It doesn’t mean anything. Trust me, I know the difference. I’ve felt the difference,” she said with a slight laugh, or maybe more of a cough.
Steeling myself, I waited until my friend finished blowing her nose again. “Annie, I … I know the difference too. It was—it was more than that. He was coming onto me, er, directly.” There, I said it, I thought, feeling relieved for just a brief moment.
Annie's jaw dropped. “You have got to be kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding. You don’t seriously think he would be interested in …”
I clenched my jaw. “In me? Well, I wouldn’t have thought so, but I know what I saw. I didn't imagine this. Gregory saw it too.”
We sat in stony silence for a while, and then Annie spoke quietly, “Ah, that’s it. This is about Gregory, and things are not going the way you’d like. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you … you are jealous.”
Eyes wide, I stared at her. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You—you think I would dream this up just because I’m hurt about what’s going on with Gregory? Which I’m not, by the way. Things are going great. My love life is fine.”
Annie stood abruptly, looking a little dizzy but determined as she headed to the kitchen. “We’re done here, Viv. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I don’t have the energy for it right now.”
Standing up slowly, I stared at my friend with my mouth agape. Annie had never spoken to me this way before, or to anyone, as far as I knew. “I can’t even … You don’t believe me? Why would I lie? Why would—” I stopped as my disbelief abruptly turned to outrage. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything. I was trying to be a good friend. I'm always trying to be a good friend to you." When Annie didn't turn around, I added bitterly, "And it’s a thankless job.”
A bit unsteady still, Annie whirled around, her green eyes flashing as she pointed to the door. “Just go. I think I need a break from this ‘good friend’ that you think you are.” With that last parting shot, she picked up her tissue box and strode to her bedroom.
Fuming, I headed to the door to leave and then turned back, the words “How dare you” on the tip of my tongue. But I forced myself to take a deep breath. “Not worth it,” I muttered. Things would only escalate. Instead, I slammed the door shut on my way out.
Real mature, I told myself, but I didn’t care. I’d had enough adulting for today .