Lydia #2
We huddle up together, and Pali flips to a fresh page in her notebook labeled GROUP 3.
“Okay. Number exchange first, so we can organize our thoughts later. No ghosting this assignment.” We pass phones around, and I watch as Bash puts his number into my phone, lingering a little longer than he did with everyone else’s phone.
Something about having his number feels heavy, like I just gained another emergency person…
just in case. The self-doubt creeps right back in for even having that thought, at thinking he would want that responsibility.
Pretty sure he’s done enough for me already as a complete stranger.
Probably already thinks of me as a girl who’s just a hot mess and gets herself into too many dumb situations, and also tried to off herself.
Someone who always needs saving. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want saving.
I hate the way I talk about myself, the way I always think other people think about me, the way Eli ingrained in my head these things about myself that I’m trying so hard to get rid of, how he could make me feel like I needed his saving even when he was the one doing the hurting.
It makes my mouth taste like metal from biting my cheek, my hands twitch, needing something to do, and the craving creeps in, quietly at first—The thoughts are going to spiral; you could just turn them off before they do.
Shut up, please. I’m okay. Nobody is thinking about me that way. If I play into the thoughts, I become the thoughts. I don’t have to be them.
I try to focus back in on what Pali is saying, and when I look up, everyone is looking at me, waiting. I look over to Bash, who has a little bit of concern written on his face. He mouths to me, “You okay?”
I quickly nod and look back at Pali, who repeats whatever she must have just asked that I missed. “Did you have any ideas?”
I search my brain, pushing away the anxiety for a moment so I can pull back out the idea I had ready.
“Um, yeah. Well, everyone crashes around three, right? Instead of chugging another energy drink, our project can test a super basic ‘3 PM Reset’ for three days…so at 3:00 p.m., you drink two cups of water and take a 10-minute walk, outside if you can, or just a lap inside. That’s it.
We’ll see if that tiny reset lowers the afternoon slump and cuts the urge for caffeine. ”
Pali gives me a solid nod. “Oh, I like that.” She looks around at the boys for agreement, and they both nod. “Cool, let’s go with that.”
We finish up with small details and then plan to meet up at the library in two days, texting between now and then to organize some thoughts and ways to collect what data we need.
Everyone files out of the class, and as I head towards the stairway door, an arm reaches in front of me to push the door open.
I look over my shoulder to see Bash standing there, waiting for me to keep walking.
He falls in step beside me as we head down the stairs that lead back out onto campus, and nudges my arm lightly.
“You okay? Seemed like something bothered you back there.”
I don’t know if I like the way he reads me so easily. I don’t know if I want him to be some constant therapist hovering over me, analyzing me like some project.
“I’m good,” is all I give him, short, even though I don’t want to be with him.
“Okay,” he says, not pushing. “Sorry, didn’t mean to overstep—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupt. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
“Yeah,” he replies, holding the bottom door open for me.
I keep walking, but look back once to see him standing there, holding the door for a couple more students, still watching me.
* * *
“First, he’s facilitating the recovery group, now you have a class with him?” Lani says, shocked. “I think the universe is like throwing him in your face at this point, girl.”
I roll my eyes, taking a sip of the perfectly warm pumpkin latte that feels like a little taste of exactly how fall looks.
“I don’t know about that. I mean, there’s like ethics in recovery and support groups, right?
Like, you can’t even be friends or hang out with people running groups like that. It’s some power dynamic shit.”
“Dang, that sucks,” Simone throws in. “He’s really cute, and seems like he’s really sweet. Like every interaction y’all have had seems like it’s scripted from some movie, where the main male character is pining for the girl with a lost soul, saving her in the end.”
Exactly.
“Yeah, I don’t need saving, or to be anyone’s personal save-a-bitch project.”
“Of course not,” Simone quickly adds. “But like, would it be so bad to pretend to need saving and fall into those strong, firm, protective arms?”
I swat at her, laughing. “Again, ethics, y’all.”
“Ethics are party-poopers,” Lani says, sticking her tongue out.
“What would I even do with a guy like that?” I ask. “I don’t do relationships…and he looks like the relationship type…and I’m supposed to be avoiding the whole meaningless hookups for a ‘temporary release’ thing.”
“Would a relationship really be that bad?” Simone asks. “Like, not tomorrow or anything, but like, down the line maybe, if you found a guy you actually trust and felt safe with?”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe with a guy again…” I shrug. “So, I don’t know.”
“Well, for what it’s worth,” Lani says. “You’re worth loving. I hope one day you can find that.”
Simone and I both look at each other and then back at Lani.
“Where’s your relationship at, Lani?” I ask her, teasingly.
She laughs, waving us off. “Hey, I don’t knock a relationship. I just haven’t found anyone who can match and handle all this personality.”
We all laugh in agreement.
“Could Erik handle you?” I tease.
Lani rolls her eyes. “No, he couldn’t. That was the problem, I guess.”
“Ugh, just tell us what happened already?” Simone whines.
Lani sighs. “Just old history that I don’t care to dig back up. That’s all I’m saying about it,” she cuts off, waving a hand at us.
I shake my head, smiling. “Ugh, I love a second-chance romance plot.”
“Not happening,” Lani says.
“I guess we’ll just have to put a bet down,” Simone says.
Lani turns to her. “Okay, fine, and I’ll put my bet down for how long until you finally fold and get with Mason then.”
Simone almost chokes on her drink. “He’s been my friend since last year. It isn’t like that.”
“If you insist,” I tease.
“Are we all just blind and in denial?” Lani says, and we all laugh.
I forget how much of a safe space Lani and Simone are for me until I’m with them.
When I’m with them, it almost calms me enough to sort through some of the feelings I have without losing myself in them.
I don’t know what Bash is to me, a stranger still…
right? Doesn’t feel that way, but that’s all it can be.
Just two people in passing. He probably doesn’t look at me as anything more than someone he helped out a couple of times in pretty fucked up situations.
This is my healing era. I’m not even in a position to think about real relationships, or if they’re something I want.
I feel like they would just push me back at this point.
They come with too many emotions, too much pain, and too much of a distraction from my goals.
What are my goals? That’s what I really need to be focusing on.
We spend the rest of the night hanging out with Simone and some of her sorority sisters at the Gamma house, a bunch of other girls filtering through the house in passing.
We play a couple of rounds of Cards Against Humanity, with the raunchiest expansion packs, of course, and spend most of the time laughing and talking about school, boys, all the football games and events coming up, sprinkling in any juicy drama on campus.
I’m still learning what nights look like when they aren’t full of parties and getting high, but nights like this remind me it’s a lot more fun to just be with people I like, and actually be able to remember it the next day. I also have to remind myself of that on the nights that aren’t as fun.