Twenty-Six #3
When I come back with a falafel pita and a jumbo order of fries, she’s flipping through one of my older books. “I don’t know
how you do it. Writing my thesis just about killed me.”
“Says the woman in charge of two thousand adolescents.”
“Not yet.” She blows out a breath. “But I’ve got to admit, I’m nervous.”
“You’re going to be the best assistant principal that high school has ever seen.” I hold out the fries and she takes one.
“I’d be scared to step out of line with you in charge.”
She takes another fry, then steals my napkin. “You’ve always been scared to step out of line,” she says. “Which is why I still
can’t believe you hatched this wild scheme with Gavin.” She grabs for another fry but I hold them out of reach. No way she’s
getting more fries after that rundown. “Are you two done pretending you need tropes in order to get cozy?”
My lips twist at the aptness of her words. “The tropes were a way for me to get out of my head, not get with Gavin.”
“I almost believe you,” she says. “But the delivery could use a little work.”
“I’m not going to discuss this when we’re about to be swarmed by readers.”
“How about I guess, and you tell me if I’m right?” Without waiting for my reply, she says, “You decided to act out only-one-bed,
except no one slept on the floor.”
I merely blink.
“A nod or shake of the head will suffice.”
“Not when you’re being nosy.”
She snags a fry while my guard is down. “You decided to do it once, just to get it out of your systems, but fell madly in
love.”
“Why do all of these tropes involve sex? Do you really think we’d need games to get into bed with each other?” Not the right
answer, though by the way her eyes simultaneously light up and narrow, in a villainous glow, I realize it’s exactly the tell
she was hoping for.
She grabs my wrist, tugging me into the corner of the booth, as if that will put us in a bubble of silence, even though I
can see the next stall over through the gap in the fabric. “Are you and Gavin hooking up?”
I balk at hearing her describe it that way. “It’s not like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like a random fling.” I knew this interrogation was coming and planned to downplay everything. Chalk it up to proximity and
stress. But it’s not. It’s real and deep and already I’m worrying about how it will end.
Her arms are around me in a flash. “Oh, Mia, I know. I just got excited because you two are perfect for each other and I’ve
been waiting, keeping my mouth shut for—”
“Don’t do that, either.” I pull away. “Don’t get all overexcited. We’re very much in the figuring-out stage. We had a big
argument yesterday, and that almost never happens.”
“About what?” She finally drops her voice to a whisper, though there’s really no need. The hall is loud enough that readers and I have basically been shouting to each other across the table to be heard.
“It’s a long story, but he might be leaving to take over for his dad, and I think the stress of everything got overwhelming
in the moment. But instead of pulling us together like it usually does, it pushed us apart. What if that’s because we’re—”
I lower my voice to a whisper “—together?”
Kim grins. “You make it sound like a bad word. What if the issue isn’t how your relationship has changed, but that you refuse
to acknowledge it? If you were committed to dating, wouldn’t that be one less stress?”
“Maybe, but it would also take away the possibility for us to treat this like it never happened.”
“Mia, come on. That was never a real possibility.”
She’s right, and my stomach churns at the thought. Like it or not, Gavin and I have crossed the point of no return.
“And in the end,” she says, “you two are grown adults. What’s the worst that could happen, you break up?”
“Yes, and then I lose one of my best friends.”
“Or you acknowledge this wasn’t the right move and go back to the way things were. You don’t have to pretend it never happened
if you can move past it.”
Maybe that’s the escape hatch I’ve been looking for. My chance to stop overthinking things. If this doesn’t work out, there’s
no reason we have to lose each other. Friendship is still an option. But for that to work, I’ll need to keep my heart in check.
The rest of the con passes with only the slightest of hitches—a question on the panel about how long it took me to finish
writing this book, to which I replied honestly, “I haven’t.” But I was able to join in the laughter that followed because
the end is finally in sight.
I don’t have time to check my phone until Kim and I finish dinner with some author friends of mine and I’m in an Uber back to the hotel after saying goodbye to my sister outside the restaurant. My heart falls when I see I’ve missed several texts and a call.
Gavin: I’m sorry about yesterday.
Gavin: Can we talk?
A voicemail notification pops up, and I tap it, heart fluttering with nerves.
“Hey, Mia. I feel like this might be the first time I’ve left one of these in forever. Are we still on for couples therapy?
Because I think we might need it.” A chuckle. “Seriously, though. I hate fighting, and I understand that you’re under a lot
of pressure. I didn’t mean to make light of it. That’s it, I guess. See you tomorrow, I hope. And, Mia, I really am sorry.”
I call him back, but it goes to voicemail—not surprising since it’s almost 11:00 p.m. I text him back: Me too.
Stressed and shouldn’t have snapped at you.
Can’t wait for tomorrow . My thumb hovers over the heart emoji that I’ve used a million times with him but feels like a declaration now. A declaration
I’d rather make face-to-face than over text.
I was scared to admit it, but friendship doesn’t feel right anymore. People always say therapy is a safe space. I think that’s
exactly what I need. A safe place to show Gavin that I’m willing to take a chance on love.