16. Hadley #2
I pull in a breath that I release just as quickly and slip my foot into the frigid ice. I shiver, cuddling back into the blanket.
My phone buzzes again.
Lanie: Did you barf?
I called Lanie and told her about our cookie run last night, catching up briefly on her pregnancy and work before she went to dinner with a couple of Christian’s colleagues.
Me: No, but I sprained my ankle.
Lanie: You did not!!
Me: Lame, right?
Lanie: You couldn’t eat a cookie and walk?
Me: Power cord.
Lanie: No!!
Me: I know. I’m doomed. I’ll call you later so you can laugh at me but I’m in the middle of homework.
Lanie: I need details. So many details.
Nolan sits down near my foot. “Sorry. That was Lanie.”
“No. Don’t apologize.”
“Can I ask you a random question?”
He nods, but his expression turns guarded. Nervous.
“Do guys find it needy or clingy when girls text them?”
He stares at me for several long seconds. “You’re asking me for dating advice?” He sounds almost baffled.
“Hannah didn’t want to text Ethan today because she was worried he’d think she would look needy.”
He releases a heavy sigh and crosses one foot over a knee and leans back, taking up too much space, though he’s not taking up quite enough because he’s not touching me. “I don’t date. I don’t do girlfriend/boyfriend, so I wouldn’t really know.”
“Never?”
He shakes his head.
“So what, you look for friends with benefits? Hookups?” I shake my head, so far out of my level of familiarity while trying my damndest not to sound na?ve.
Nolan’s smile grows slightly predatory. “It’s casual. If we like each other’s company, we hang out until we don’t.”
“What about sex?”
He tips his chin up a fraction. “What about sex?”
“Are your casual relationships exclusively sexual?”
“That would be a hookup. Casual dating is about having a good time and enjoying each other, not about a commitment.”
“So if a guy calls you clingy they’re looking for a casual relationship?”
Nolan shakes his head. “I can only speak for myself.”
Terrible ideas and worse proposals are being pieced together in my thoughts, where the contracts and cost analysis have already been drafted.
“How do you find someone to casually date?”
“When I find someone I’m interested in, I ask them if they want to hang out and then tell them I’m interested and make sure they want the same thing, and then…” He lifts a hand from the back of the couch, encouraging me to fill in the blanks.
“How do you end things? Is it awkward?”
He shakes his head. “No one gets attached enough that things get weird. Expectations don’t apply in casual dating. There are no rules.”
No rules.
No expectations.
It lends to mystery. To excitement. To the unknown.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
I release a short and dry laugh. “That maybe this is what I need to do.”
Nolan shakes his head. “No way.”
“What?”
“You’re a serious relationship type of girl.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want the pressure of a relationship. I hate trying to figure out if I’m supposed to wait a week to respond to a text because he did, and I don’t have the time or energy to get invested in someone.”
Nolan stands, pacing the distance of his living room as he shakes his head. “You would hate it.”
“How do you know? You kissed me and I haven’t made it weird. I haven’t even brought it up.”
He stops and pivots to face me, eyes falling on me. “Why?”
I shake my head. “Because you were clearly…” I shake my head again, wishing I hadn’t brought it up.
“Clearly what?”
“You pulled away from me as though hearing I had Smallpox, left with someone else, and didn’t talk to me for two days.”
“And how did that make you feel?”
I frown, feeling offended on a level I don’t even recognize. “Was that a test?”
“When casual dating, it’s not messages every morning and calls at the same time every night. It’s not about needing a reason or an excuse to be gone for a few days.”
“So you were testing me?”
He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Because you think I’m the serious relationship type.” It’s not a question.
“Because I didn’t explain my position. I never want to lead someone on, especially not you.”
I want to ask if it’s because I’m his roommate or friend or something else entirely. Instead, pride takes the driver’s seat. “You didn’t,” I bite the words.
His lips twist. “How would you feel if I told you I’ve hooked up with other girls since kissing you?”
“Is this another test?”
He shrugs.
I want to punch him. That must be the feeling coursing through my veins, sparking anger and resentment as the sensation of being in front of an entire auditorium waiting for me to speak, consumes me.
“Good for you.” I start to pull my foot out of the ice bath. Nolan is there before I manage to free my leg, applying enough pressure to stop me.
“You still have fifteen minutes.”
I stare at him, defiantly, hating this conversation that makes me look at him through a lens I never want to see him through. One where my feelings don’t matter, and he holds all the power in our friendship.
Nolan swallows and drops his gaze to my foot, and then back to my gaze.
He squats so he’s at eye level with me. I wish he’d stand again.
It’s easier to act unaffected when looking at his wall or chest. “I shouldn’t have kissed you because I like you.
You have this drive and confidence that is so fucking sexy, and you’re hilarious, beautiful, loyal, and fun.
Girls like you deserve a guy who will call every night at nine and be there to walk you to your car and text you back without making you feel needy—but it’s not who I am. ”
“I’ve done the serious boyfriend route,” I tell him.
“It didn’t work out so well. I don’t even know what I want, what I like.
If I were to make a boyfriend list, I wouldn’t be able to tell you what I want from a partner.
Having someone call me every night sounds clingy, and I don’t need a guy who gets jealous or wants me to be some virginal princess—I’m not.
My entire life is planned. I know adulthood is waiting for me in two and a half years—and I’m not running from it, it’s what I want, but right now, I just want to have fun and not feel the same level of obligation my future holds. ”
He stares at me, his hand still on my knee.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m not asking you. You’re not on the hook to date me or anything else. We’re friends.” The last word came out surprisingly smooth because it feels like gravel in my mouth, but maybe that’s exactly what Nolan and I are.
“Friends,” he says, as though testing the word out.
“Friends,” I repeat.