Chapter 19
nineteen
ROSIE
“Oh my gosh. This is how you felt.” Liliana is pacing back and forth—smiling so wide it looks painful, one hand on her chest and the other gripping the side of her head.
The café is appropriately decorated for the Halloween season. There are small plastic pumpkins sitting on Caramel & Latte’s short windowsills, and faux autumn leaves lining the ceiling. The bats hanging above the front door exist solely to garner attention, yet Liliana is stealing the show.
She grabs onto my ribbed brown sweater and shakes my arm.
“When I told you Grant and I finally kissed. This is how you felt.”
I’ve told her about kissing many guys throughout our years of friendship. None of them ever garnered such a wide grin paired with equally wide eyes. It must be shock and giddiness running through her.
I press the back of my hand into my cheeks to cool them down. “Yeah.”
“Holy shit!” The café-goers closest to us look at her with raised eyebrows. Her red-haired coworker even glances over in question, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Oh my gosh.”
“Do you… have anything to say?”
I’m really asking, Are you mad at me?
She shouldn’t be. I would guess she’s happy for me. But my friendship with her means so much, I feel the need to double-check, just in case.
Liliana takes her seat across the table, places her baby blue-clad arms on the wood, and leans in to whisper, “Are you two having sex?!”
“Lil! You work here!”
“I’m off the clock.” The knitted fabric flaps around when she waves her hand. Her question doesn’t paint her as angry, but her face scrunches up in disgust. “Wait. Don’t tell me. He’s really starting to feel like my little brother, and that’s so gross to think about.”
I laugh. Maybe I should be shaken by that sentiment, but I’m not. The thought of dating my best friend’s “brother” doesn’t bother me if said brother has a heart of gold, caring green eyes, and a protective six-three frame.
Kisses that make me feel like he’ll die if he doesn’t get another taste.
Liliana’s hand squeezing mine takes me out of the memory of that night.
“You’re daydreaming about him!”
My cheeks catch fire. The bottom of my lip gets caught between my teeth. I can’t help it. The phantom touches of his lips against my neck before we drifted off into sleep make me hazy. “Well, yeah. I really like him, Lil.”
“Oh my gosh!” Her voice peaks again, and everyone in the coffee shop takes a look. I try to shush her, but I can practically see the sound fly into one ear and out the other. “I was going to say I can’t believe it, but I can believe it.”
“You can?”
Her sleeve slips over our hands when she reaches over to intertwine them, two coffee cups forgotten at the edge of our table. “Rosie, I meant it when I said you two make sense. You’re both so opposite, but so similar. He’s shy, but you’re extroverted. He’s calm, you’re chaos.”
My eyebrow shoots up. “Chaos?”
She pats my hand and nods. “In a good way. The best way.” I’m inclined to push back, but she doesn’t give me time. “But you guys are both super passionate, you know? You about finances-”
“Trading.” I lightly correct her. She’s always struggled to grasp the nitty gritty of what I want to pursue.
I try not to overwhelm her. A few years ago, when the new Xion CEO was announced, I talked her ear off about him being a Brookstone alum.
For days. I make an effort not to put her through that again.
Putting my brain back on track, I add, “Locke doesn’t seem as passionate about his own major, though.”
“His father expects him to use it at VK, to be fair. You and I are studying what we love, so it makes sense that we’re dedicated to school. When it comes to Locke, there are other things he can be passionate about.”
My eyes dance across the room, searching for the truth in her words.
It’s hard to think of passion and not immediately connect it to academics. My whole life, I’ve dreamt of going all in on math, this career, and molding my future to it. I think I only know real purpose because I’ve wanted that for so long.
When I consider Locke, I can still recognize that feeling in his actions. It’s just directed elsewhere.
“You’re right. He cares a lot about his hobbies and raising Ghost.” My mind filters through the memories I have of him, and the times he seems most animated.
Realizing what Locke’s real passion is makes my heart squeeze.
“I think he’s most passionate about caring for his loved ones.
He’ll drop anything, anytime if someone he loves needs him.
It feels like he basically raised Billie and he would give anything for Grant. ”
The smile on my face stretches so wide, it hurts. This is exactly how I’ve come to view him. He’s so giving and kind. A space in my chest opens up, perfectly shaped to him.
“See? That’s exactly why you two work. You have the same spirit within you. It just shows itself in different ways.”
She sighs, dreamily and hopeful, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen this.
Our roles are switched. I’m the one recalling the crumbs of a love life, and Liliana is hanging onto every word. Gazing off into the distance like any hopeless romantic would be. It’s the most Rosie-esque thing I’ve ever seen her cynical brain do. I can’t help but laugh and question it.
“What’s gotten into you? You’ve never acted like this before with any of the other guys I’ve mentioned.”
Her eyes break away from whatever fantasy they were connected to, and back to me.
“This is different.” Her shoulders fall, but just slightly. Not defeated, but relaxed. Content. “Locke is the first guy I think is worth your time and the love you have to give.”
Our hands squeeze together. I’m unsure if it’s her trying to reassure me, or me reacting to the shock coursing through my system.
My best friend is right. Instinctively, I’ve compared Locke to the guys who have predated him. It’s ridiculous to do something like that. There’s nothing to compare.
I always thought affection showed itself in sappy text messages throughout the day and kisses after a fifteen-minute round of sex.
I was so painfully wrong.
Affection, as I’ve come to learn, is having dinner ready at the end of the day for no reason other than just because.
Listening to each other ramble about miscellaneous interests, because being together in any capacity is more fulfilling than being apart.
Finding happiness in the silence of one another.
Late night talks that don’t have to be repaid with time between sheets.
Nothing has to be exchanged. It’s not transactional.
Locke shouldn’t ever be compared to the other men I’ve ever given my time or attention to. It’s an insult to put them in the same category.
For once in my life, I don’t hate how much I romanticize everyone and everything. All the heartbreak was worth it, if these experiences with him were at the end of the tunnel.
Liliana’s cheeks must be in pain, considering she’s grinning as widely as I am. “He’s worth everything and more.”
“I’m so happy for you, Rosie.”
The overwhelming appreciation for my best friend and her place in my life clutches at my chest.
“Thank you, Lil. I really hope everything works out.”
She reels back, hands leaving mine. “What? What do you mean you ‘hope’?”
“Between Locke and me. I hope it works out.” I shrug.
“It will work out. I’ve already thought everything over.
” Her finger taps her temple and she nods.
I would assume she’s joking, except there’s no humor covering her expression.
“I’ve already looked into the housing policy.
Co-ed dorms only exist for graduate housing, and they have much more lax rules for those students.
Also, no university as reputable as Brookstone is going to be concerned with whether their students are dating. ”
She’s speaking so furiously, I almost forgot what my real worries were.
“You looked this up?”
“Yes. As soon as we got home from the board game café.”
I scoff and rub my fingers into my forehead. “Nothing even happened then.”
“Says you. I felt like I was third wheeling.” Liliana takes a quick sip of her latte while I look on confused. “And I’m the one in a relationship.”
I laugh half-heartedly. There’s something more weighing on my chest.
“I’m not worried about the school.”
She smirks. “Perfect. You have no reason to be.”
I try to shake off the realization that Liliana and I have truly switched places. She’s the smug and hopeful one, and I’m the one stressed about the worst outcome
Chewing on my straw, I mumble, “I’m worried about what people will think.”
It sickens me to hear—especially coming from my own mouth. I know it’s senseless to hold such emphasis on this, but the scars of being beaten by opinions and criticisms are fresh.
There’s a wordless exchange. My best friend raising her eyebrow at me. We nod at each other once, twice, before she hums in understanding. She’s heard the story enough times that one side glance is enough to tell it again.
“The guys in your cohort are immature and unprofessional. Their behavior shows they’re still stuck in high school, where they probably peaked.”
Liliana grunts and I snort. That’s the closest she’ll ever get to cussing someone out. The disdain in her tone makes it just as harsh and unforgiving.
“You’re not wrong.”
“I know. And you shouldn’t concern yourself with opinions of people with minds so juvenile.”
She continues with her insults—small-minded, childish, sexist—and it should make me feel better. It should be enough to remind me how little value my peers’ opinions will have after school is said and done, and I work my way up to the position I deserve.
Frustration scratches at the back of my throat. I’ll have to work my way up, but they’ll be handed their spots. I’ll fight for a place above their station, where I belong, and they’ll be gifted every opportunity I’ll bust my ass for.
It’s not fair.
“I know what you’re saying, Lil. And you’re right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”