25. Waverly
CHAPTER 25
WAVERLY
Fortunate:Typical third-act breakup sitch happening. But we both know how this ends.
Unfortunate:A fucking third-act breakup is happening, and I think my best friend is a closet serial killer.
I stare at a text for about thirty minutes that should’ve been a phone call. There are multiple misspelled words, which leads me to believe he’s drinking.
Rome: To my favorite human. I need you to do soemthing for me…for us. I need you to go out onta date. With a guy. Its not’ goign to be me. Hear me ouft. Its just to make sure that im not a rebound. I want to love you but I dont wantr to be a reboundd from my brother
I want to love you.
I want to love you…
“I want to love you,” Victoria repeats next to me. I was in my own head after Roman dropped me off and I immediately called and begged her to have a good old-fashioned sleepover. There has been whiskey we’ve shared, and apparently, he’s been drinking as well. He must not utilize auto correct, either.
“A date? I haven’t been on a date since?—”
“Every time Roman has taken you out has been a date, but you’ve been too blind to see, missy.” She tosses a pillow at my head. “Watching the stars? Date. Dancing at Two Balls? Double Date. Birthday kisses and dancing in the rain? A date.” I roll my eyes, crossing my hands in front of my chest. She scoots closer to me on the sofa. “Waverly, if he wants you to go on a date, because he wants to love you, why not? It’s for him and you.”
This is absurd! If I wanted a rebound, I would have banged a random dude from a bar. Or one of those college guys who come here on spring break. Or my neighbor from downstairs. He’s always leaving random things at my doorstep, whether it’s the daily newspaper, or small succulents he gets from his job at the florist. There was a time I needed to buy a multi-level shelf to harbor all of the succulents.
The idea of going out with a stranger sounds exhausting. I choose my circle wisely. And to let a complete stranger in for what reason? So, Roman doesn’t feel like a rebound? He should trust me, should he not?
Silence has filled the room except for Victoria’s chewing. I’m not sure when she opened that bag of Doritos, but I’m seconds away from batting it out of her hand.
Roman has pulled me out of my shell. He’s helped me become more human, and not someone who laid around all day because she forgot who she was without her fiancé. Roman has also graciously given me the space I need to find myself while offering his solid friendship. The lines were blurred. It was inevitable. If I need to go on a date to prove he isn’t a rebound, then that’s what I’ll do.
Everyone has their own insecurities, and this is obviously his. Rightfully so. His brother would flaunt me in his face all the damn time; I just never knew Patrick was doing that to Roman.
“It’ll be fun. Oh! I can set you up with a guy who just started at the office. He’s an architect, so he’s creative. Your favorite.” She flicks my arm. “He has red hair, and green eyes, and his freckles are adorable.”
I blink a few times. “Adorable makes it sound like you’re setting me up with a child. Red hair and freckles. Are you setting me up with Chucky? You’re trying to kill me off, aren’t you?” I joke, dramatically clutching the fabric over my chest.
“No. If I wanted to kill you, I’d slice and dice you, and feed you to the sharks.” I still at her words. From the amount of psychotic thriller books I’ve read the past few weeks, I’m starting to think you never know your friend’s a psychopath until they ask you to help them hide your own body, which would be impossible. Or would it? This may be that type of situation.
Still waiting for the “kidding” but it never comes.
“Anyway, his name is Connor. You’ll love him. Not in the Roman way, but in the ‘he’s a lot of fun’ kind of way. And he is so much better than Patrick.” She hated Patrick. Never told me why, but just insisted I could do better—be happier. Victoria bats her lashes and holds her hands in front of her like she’s praying to the date gods, “Please. Please. Please?”
I can’t help but grin. Not because I’m going on a blind date with someone who, well, let’s face it, sounds like a man I really should be with. But I smile because hanging out with Victoria makes me feel like I’m in my early twenties again. Like the weight of the world has yet to pull us down.
“Fine.” Is it possible to feel annoyed and grateful at the same time? I love that she cares this much to help me out. She’s genuinely rooting for me and Roman.
I stand, walk over to my bowl, and light a sage smudge stick before waving it around, trying my best to ground myself and rid my space of negative thoughts and energy. Or at least that’s what the lady at the store on the boardwalk told me.
“Okay. How’s tomorrow at six?” Victoria asks me while tapping away at her screen.
I turn into a cloud of smoke and start coughing. She finally takes her eyes off the phone. “Well, that explains everything . You’re the demon. You’re your own negative energy.” My middle finger flies into the air before she goes back to her phone.
She’s right. I’m standing in my own damn way. I’m my own worst enemy. “Six is great.”
“Good. I just sent your number to him. You should be getting a text from him soon. I know how you hate actual phone calls.” She mumbles under her breath, “Typical millennial.”
“I can hear you. And you’re an elder millennial, too. So bite your tongue.” I stick my tongue at her seconds before my phone buzzes on the coffee table. Victoria leans over and takes a peek at the notification.
“It’s him! Answer!” She bounces on my poor Lovesac and claps like we’re in middle school waiting to hear from our crushes.
I calmly place my smudge stick in the bowl and allow the smoke to fill the air. Never extinguish sage. It will know when to slow the burn itself. I put all of my trust in Ember at the new age shop. I better not have to call the fire department.
From the short walk from the kitchen to the living room, my palms start to sweat. I wipe them on my baggy sweatpants and plop down next to her. Of course, she’s already holding my phone.
Unknown: Hey, Waverly–Connor. I can’t wait to meet you
She probably described me as adorable, but I assure you I’m anything but
Send me your address and I’ll pick you up at six
Does Casa d’ Amigos sound good to you?
Victoria and I stare at the screen in shock at his words. “Anything but?” I reiterate. That doesn’t make him sound ugly, it makes him sound sexy as hell.
“Anything but…” I hear the devilish grin coming from her without even looking.
I tap out my address, tell him quickly about my love for Mexican food, and push send. After he thumbs up the message, I decide to send Roman a message back.
Me:Good idea. I have a date tomorrow at six
Let ya know how it goes
I lay my phone down expecting Roman to get back to me in the morning, but a message comes through thirty seconds later.
Rome:Are you serious?
“No, Roman, I’m not. I love playing with emotions more than anything,” I say to myself. Victoria stays silent next to me watching it all unfold. I’m surprised she didn’t pop any popcorn.
Me:Dead.
Roman:Where are you going?
Me:Why would I tell you that?
This was your idea. I’m going along with it
So let me have my date
You want me to go on a date and then you want to know where I’m going? No dice, Roman.
Roman:If he tries to get handsy, call me and I’ll be there
Me:It’s not like I have anyone else’s hands on me
Maybe handsy would be good for me!
I feel more like myself than I have in years. Snarky Waverly has come out to play. The Waverly who didn’t get pushed around, played no games, and was selfish sometimes. I want hands on me. Like, all over me!
I am waiting for another reply. Bubbles appear, then disappear. Every part of me is hoping that he’ll tell me to forget the “date.” I drift into a small daydream. Perhaps he’d knock on my door and order Victoria to leave before he proclaims his obsession with me. He’d ravish me. Claim me. Be the other half I’ve been longing for as a woman.
After so long without a message, I put my phone down.
“Girl, he’s going to go all alpha male on you. Roman has that in him, and I feel where his brother didn’t want to channel his inner alpha, Roman has no problem exercising that muscle.” Victoria nudges me with her shoulder.
That’s what he said.
I guess time will tell.
A night’s sleep came and went, and I still didn’t get any more messages from Roman. I’m rattled. Is this a test? Why does he want this again? Does he get off by seeing me with someone else? Not going to lie, I don’t want to yuck someone’s yum, but that’s not my thing. What if he wants to date someone else? I may have been obsessing over it all night, and I may not have slept well at all. But it’s morning now, I can’t stop myself from texting him because I have zero chill.
Me:This date you’d like me to go on, would you fancy making it a double date?
I hope he has a hangover. My fingers start to shake as I wait for him to message me back. I feel like I’m in middle school.
Roman:You’d be okay seeing me with someone else?
Me:Probably not. Because I can’t stomach the idea of seeing you with anybody but me.
As I stand in my closet, I realize now more than ever that I have nothing to wear. I guess until I go shopping I could always recycle outfits I wore out with Roman. I’m feeling a little freer in the way I dress. Nobody to comment on how few clothes I’m wearing, or how they don’t suit my age. Screw that.
The camisole I wore on the plane to Italy hangs before me. I pull it out remembering how the silk rubbed against my bare chest as I was flush against Roman’s back on his motorcycle. It’s like muscle memory; my body instantaneously responds to the thought, and I feel a tingle in my lower stomach and the familiar pool of wetness between my legs when I think about him.
Snap out of it, Waverly . “Now is not the time to think about him when I’m getting ready for a date with Chucky’s dad,” I murmur to myself.
I tuck myself into a pair of dark skinny jeans, and pull the cami over my head, this time opting for a bra. Not sure I want Connor staring at my tits the whole night. That’s an instant ick.
As I slide a thin layer of gloss over my lips and take one final look in the mirror, my doorbell sounds, which is strange because nobody ever uses it. Like it will wake the kids I don’t have or something. Tonight, I decided to go with a simple ponytail. It’s my comfortable hairstyle. Can’t go wrong with a long ponytail and a cute pair of earrings—if I was trying to impress him, that is.
I open the door to see someone far opposite than a redhead. His hair is a dark auburn, and his eyes are as blue as the ocean. Yes, he has freckles, but he is definitely not Chucky. Or Chucky’s dad.
“Connor…?”
“Right in one. And you’re the lovely Waverly, I take it.” A panty-melting Irish accent slides from between his lips. I let out a quiet gasp that was part laugh, part shock. He is not what I was expecting… I’m going to kill Victoria tomorrow. Or thank her… I don’t even know.
I realize I’ve been silently staring for longer than is normal, “Hello! Hi! Um…” I can feel myself getting flustered and do what any normal hermit would do when confronted with a situation of this magnitude. I wave. Two feet away. And. I. Wave.
Amusement flickers in the eyes that meet mine. And he waves back. He. Waves. Back. God, help me.
“Are ya hungry?” He gestures to his car.
I nod, step out, and lock the door behind me. He hasn’t moved from his position, and is now extremely close. A combination of Patchouli and cinnamon fills the air. It’s a mix that shouldn’t work, but on him, it’s perfect. “I’m starving. I’ve been waiting all day for Casa’s guacamole.” I lie. I usually order out the same meal every time I eat there. A double shrimp fajita with two orders of chips and salsa. I’m a simple woman.
We walk to his car in silence as he swings his keys around his finger. “You know, Victoria did ya no justice.” He opens my car door. So I guess it was only Patrick who never did that. Apparently, every other man does it. I shake my head trying to rid myself of the thought of how angry I am at Patrick. More and more every day. My eyes have been opened to a new world, and I can see now that that is settled. I think I’m even more mad at myself for letting it happen for so long.
I feel a finger on my chin, and I lose my breath. “None of that, ya hear? No overthinkin’. It’s just a date. Have some fun. Free margaritas—if that’s your drink of choice, that is.” I nod, again, offering him a smile and his mouth twitches with amusement.
“Told ya I was anything but adorable,” he smirks before closing my door.
My phone lights up the side of my bag and I take it out to check it.
Roman:I regret telling you to go on a date. I was drinking and wasn’t thinking clearly
Can we talk after? I have something I need to say…
I leave him on read. As much as it pains me to hear it, maybe going out with someone else is exactly what I need. Because whether I want to admit it or not, I don’t want Roman to be a rebound either.
“Everything okay?” he asks while snapping his seatbelt.
“Everything’s fine. Great car, by the way.”
He smiles as we pull out of the gravel lot. “Thanks, it was my dad's. They don’t make Shelbys like they used to.”
And I want to tell him that his car is almost as old as I am, but I leave that little tidbit to myself.
Dearest Waverly,
I hope you had a wonderful 40th birthday. It’s a big year. This is the moment you get to make the decision to ‘live by being here now.’ This isn’t to say challenges won’t appear, it’s when you change the way you think, the enormity of the problem is dissipated. How will you handle it moving forward?
Many challenges you face are easily preventable. It’s learning how to deal with them before they happen. I like to call that “enlightenment.”
The day you read this letter, please practice something for yourself. Take a habit that you look at as a weakness. For instance, smoking (I know you don’t smoke): Be present. Instead of smoking, eat a piece of fruit, just today. When you lie down in bed, before you sleep, decide whether or not tomorrow you wish to continue practicing.
“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
A friend,
Tom
P.S. Now that you’re moving forward in your current relationship with Roman, challenges will start to rise. Remember, friend, like water, just be. Everything then will fall into place.
P.P.S. Enclosed is Patrick’s dog tag. It was found in a village west of here. I asked around, but still no sign of him.