Chapter 22
22
OPHELIA
“H ello, beauty,” my chipper best friend greets me outside the barre studio and leans in for a hug once I reach her. Magnolia and her best friend Margaret are waiting with her, both holding rolled up yoga mats and wearing matching sets. Bailey had called to check on me after I narrowly escaped her barging into my apartment two weeks ago after I’d been sick. Since then, she’d called and texted me multiple times to ask what was going on with Malcolm, but every time she did I skillfully changed the subject to something else. When she invited me to join her and the girls for today’s class, I knew what her true motive was.
“Hi, B. Ladies.” I nod my head towards Magnolia and Margaret who look at me and smile. Pulling away from the hug, we all share a friendly smile before I speak again. “So, how much am I going to die in this class?”
“Oh please, you won’t die,” Bailey starts, flicking her hand at me and chortles. “It’s just barre.” This gets Margaret to laugh loudly on the sidewalk and an uneasy feeling creeps into my stomach.
“ Just barre?” Magnolia huffs with a smile. “Have you ever taken a barre class?”
“I mean, no. But it can’t be worse than what Hank and I do at the gym, right?” Bailey suddenly looks as nervous as I feel. Magnolia and Margaret share a hesitant glance.
“We should go in before it fills up,” Margaret says, stifling a smile and heading for the door.
I’ve never been to Hell before, but I’m convinced that moving my arms and legs in tiny circles until they want to fall off is as close as I’m going to get to experiencing it. For forty-five minutes, the girls and I moved around our mats, holding pink and purple dumbbells that were smaller than my wrist but really felt like they were five hundred pounds. Bailey was next to me on her own mat, cursing under her breath about ‘ how can this be so fucking hard, you can squat over a hundred pounds, three pounds should not feel like the end of it all.’ When the instructor announced that we were moving into our final stretch, I nearly cried tears of joy.
Stepping out of the studio with our mats in hand, Bailey’s face is flushed and I can feel my hair matted down on my forehead with sweat. The cool December breeze feels like an act of mercy across my brow. While Bailey and I look like we’re ready to keel over, Magnolia and Margaret look like they can do it all over again.
“How does breakfast sound?” Magnolia offers, looking at our group.
“Breakfast sounds great,” Bailey gushes, her eyes going wide as she swipes the back of her hand along her forehead.
“Yeah, I could use a coffee,” I add, shrugging my shoulders while trying not to think about how raw my throat feels. The welt that grew inside of it during class as I tried to catch my breath had yet to shrink.
The four of us walk down the block to a café and sit outside on the patio to cool off while we eat. Once we’re seated and our food and drinks have been ordered, I look around the table and find three sets of expectant eyes staring back at me.
“ What ?” I ask with a controlled smirk.
“Care to share with the class what’s going on with Malcolm?” Bailey questions, leaning over the table on her elbows.
“Who says anything is going on?” I challenge with an air of confidence.
“Uhh, Malcolm?” Bailey deadpans, cocking her head to one side.
“Excuse me?” My voice raises an octave.
“He’s mentioned you at campaign night before,” Magnolia hums, taking a sip of her latte.
“Yeah, Conrad’s mentioned something to me about it too.” It’s Margaret who speaks this time and we all whip our heads to look at her, stunned not by what she said but by who she said told her about Malcolm and I. “What? We talk.”
“Okay, that’s a whole other thing we will get to later.” Bailey holds up a hand to Margaret and pins her eyes back on me. “How long have you and Malcolm been hooking up?”
I bring my eyes to the ceiling and count the weeks. “Well, I went home with him on the night of your wedding, but then we didn’t hook up again until Halloween. And then there was the time on the back of his truck?—”
“Sweetie, we don’t need the juicy details,” she cuts me off.
“Says you,” Margaret interjects. “I would love to know about Ophie and Malcolm’s sexcapades.” We all laugh around the table before calming down with the help of another sip of coffee.
“So, since Hank and Bailey’s wedding then? That was the first time?” Magnolia confirms.
“Yeah, back in September.”
“And how many times have you slept together since?” Bailey continues to question. I know my best friend and I know where her mind is heading.
“Uhhh, four ? Yeah, four feels right.” When she purses her lips together and gives me a knowing look, I wave a hand at her. “It’s just sex, B. Don’t go where you’re going.”
“What about your rules? You’ve said for years now, ‘ one and done .’ Four is a few more than ‘one,’ sweetie.”
“It’s just sex,” I repeat.
“It’s just sex with a guy who comes to your rescue when you have food poisoning, stays all weekend to make sure you’re okay, and then stays to use your shower after you’ve already left for the day? You’re telling me that all of that is ‘ just sex ?’”
“Yes, I’m glad you understand.” My friend and I verbally spar while Magnolia and Margaret’s eyes pingpong back and forth between us.
“Are you sleeping with anyone else?” Her eyes turn into slits as she waits for me to respond. Shit.
I swallow hard and pull my hair out of the ponytail I had it pulled back into, prolonging my need to answer as long as possible. “No.”
“So it’s exclusive sex?” she confirms with a hint of excitement in her voice.
“I guess so, sure.” I try to remain aloof but I know where she’s going.
“So you like him.” Goddammit.
“Bailey, don’t. I see the little bunnies running away in your head and you need to rein them in. Nothing is going on beyond sex, I swear.” My friend, and prior roommate for two years, stares me down from across the table as our other two tablemates wait with bated breath. I can see her trying to formulate a response, to come up with the right thing to say that might get me to change my mind. Nothing will change my mind though because I’m not the kind of girl who dates people or puts labels on things. Even though I was the one to ask him to be exclusive. That doesn’t make him my boyfriend or anything.
She sucks on the inside of her cheek for a moment before opening her mouth to speak. “Well I think he likes you.” While I’ll never admit it to her, hearing the words make my heart rate pick up a few paces.
“Yeah, I think so too,” Magnolia finally says. I look between the two of them with furrowed brows.
“And what makes you say that?” I ask, unable to believe that they would think that. There’s no way he actually likes me. He’s just told me that so I’d keep him around and continue to sleep with him. There’s no way other people think he likes me, right?
“Because of the way he says your name and talks about you. Malcolm is normally pretty forthcoming, but with you, he keeps a lot of it close to his chest. I only know the little he’s said at campaign night after I nearly pried it out of him.” I picture the scene in my mind of this happening as the waitress comes and drops our food off at the table.
We all begin to enjoy our meals and I silently revel in the forced pause of their inquisition. My heart swells knowing that he hasn’t told them everything that has happened between us. I know the kind of guy he is—the kind who boasts to his friends about his latest conquest and weekend fling. But it seems as if what we have is different. Maybe he really does like me as more than just a casual fuck. The four of us eat in silence until our plates are clean and our cups are empty. Sitting with full bellies, we all look at one another.
“So are you going to date him?” Bailey asks, breaking the silence with another pointed question.
“ Bailey ,” I sigh warily.
“What? He likes you, Ophie. And I think he likes you a lot. You should have seen his face when I walked in on him naked and in his towel when he talked about you. It was like when a lost puppy finally finds its owner. It was so sweet to see but also weird because it’s Malcolm. I think you two would be good for one another.”
“Sweetie, stop. I don’t date. I don’t do relationships. You know this, I know this, he knows this. What we have is working and good and while it might not make sense to you, it makes sense for us. We’re just having fun, okay?” I reach across the table for her hand and squeeze it. I know her heart is in the right place, that she just wants me to be as happy as she is. To have what she does. But I told myself a long time ago that I will never have that and I’m okay with it. No amount of tattoos or mind-blowing orgasms will change that. No matter how sexy he looks while wearing those thick-framed glasses.
“I’d still like to hear more about your sexcapades though, if we could circle back to that sometime,” Margaret teases from across the table, drawing a circle in the air with one finger. The four of us howl, causing some of the other Sunday brunchers to stare.
“One day, my friend, I would love to tell you all about it.” I turn to pull my card out of my wallet when the waitress drops our bills on the table but before I can set it down, Magnolia snatches the bill folders off the table.
“No, no, this one is on Kolbi today,” she says with a wink, holding up a platinum black card in her hand. “And this is my formal request to make this a standing Sunday brunch. What do we say?”
I meet the eyes of the other girls sitting around the table and for the second time this morning, my heart swells in my chest knowing that my inner circle has grown by two.
“Deal.”