12. Jalapeño Bagels
JALAPE?O BAGELS
A spen
Ivy and I were sitting in the middle of my bed, glasses of wine in our hands, a bowl of popcorn in between us, and Grace and Frankie playing on a laptop in front of us.
We’d both watched this show together three times through now, but it was one of my favorites.
Rowan had dropped me off about an hour ago, and thankfully, Ivy came right over to help me reflect on the ending of my night.
“Sooo, are we going to talk about it or not?” Ivy asked me, her eyes still on the screen and her wine glass nearing her lips.
“Talk about what?” I replied, tossing a handful of popcorn in my mouth.
I knew exactly what she wanted to talk about, but what was the point?
Yes, I agreed to a date with Rowan in two days.
Yes, I told him he couldn’t take me home and fuck me senselessly—even though I desperately ached for that.
Yes, I found it odd that he just happened to pull up to the curb the moment I stepped outside of my place of work.
All of these things were true. But what would talking about it do?
“Okay, listen. I need to tell you something,” Ivy said after a moment of letting me stew in my feelings. I felt the bed shift and looked over at her to see she’d turned and was staring at me intently. I set my glass down on the side table and then turned to stare at her back.
“Uhm, okay. Shoot.”
“Rowan has been…watching you.” I felt my eyes widen and my pulse skyrocket.
“Oh my gosh, okay, calm down. I can see you goin’ crazy eyes.
Not like…stalking you and being creepy with cameras in the house and smelling your dirty panties.
More like, he was worried about you when you just disappeared in the dead of night, you haven’t reached out, and he doesn’t know how to navigate this new terrain.
” She bit her lip, a clear sign of her nerves.
“I need you to explain, now.”
“He came into the bar last night and sat in my section. Ordered food, tipped me well, and just watched you work from the back. He left when you did and made sure you got home okay. That’s all. Nothing…unhinged. He’s like a sweet lost puppy, ya know?” she said quickly.
“I think all the dark romances you’ve been reading have gotten to your head, Ivy.
Truly. You sound delusional, and I mean that in the sweetest of ways,” I told her gently.
Following someone around without their knowledge or consent was not cute; it was scary, and I’d been with scary before.
“I’m canceling our date. This is a bad idea in every sense of the word.
” I reached over and grabbed my phone, but she snatched it from my hands and threw it toward the end of the bed.
Taking my hands in hers, she looked me in the eyes and let out a breath.
“Aspen. I need you to listen to me, okay? As your best friend—please.” I reluctantly nodded.
“I know you’re scared, truly. I know Sam was fucking horrible, and you didn’t deserve a second of the bullshit he gave you.
But Rowan isn’t Sam. You know that logically, in your heart, you know that. Right?”
“Yes, logically I know they aren’t the same, Ivy, but that doesn’t make him stalking me okay and you know it!”
“Okay, I know. I get it, he probably crossed a bit of a line.” My eyes widened, and she back peddled.
“Okay, he crossed a line. Whatever. But if you would’ve seen him plead his case last night, Aspen, you would get where I’m coming from.
Your little golden retriever is down bad for you, and I just don’t think he knows how to explain it…
you know? He doesn’t want to lose you before he even gets you. ”
I let go of Ivy’s hands and laid back on my bed with a huff.
I did know what she meant because I felt the same way.
I felt that way every time I picked up the phone to text him, or when he told me tonight that he’d been in the neighborhood, and I immediately thought he meant he was out with another girl.
“I don’t want to get hurt, Ivy,” I whispered. “And I know if I do this, if I go out with him and let him try to whisk me off my feet and shit, I’ll get hurt. Guys like Rowan…they don’t want broken people like me.”
She laid down on her side next to me and took my hand again.
“You’re not broken, Aspen. You’re a little bent, sure.
Maybe a bit bruised, but we all are. You just have to find someone who doesn’t mind art that won’t fit the normal mold.
Which you’ll do because you’re amazing.” She wiped her face, and I realized her eyes were tearing up.
“You’re by far the greatest friend I’ve ever had, Aspen.
I’d be lost without you. Please hear me when I tell you that you deserve happiness.
You deserve the guy who will sit in the back corner of a bar and order endless food to keep your best friend quiet so he can make sure you’re okay.
You deserve that sort of love and devotion.
Accept it or at least give him a chance to show you. ”
I stared at my best friend and gently squeezed her hand. “Fine, but if he does have a psycho sex dungeon and I disappear? You better come and find me,” I said in an attempt to lighten the mood, a smile on my face.
“Oh, girl, please. I’m not saving you from the psycho sex dungeon. You need a trip there. I will, however, be quite upset if you don’t find me a cute cowboy with a sex dungeon of my own as payment for helping you find yours.” I let out a brief chuckle at her ridiculousness.
“What about your man?” I asked sarcastically.
“I know you hate Todd, and listen, tonight we both hate Todd. So, let’s leave it there and watch Sol and Robert live happily in their love nest.” She rolled onto her back and stared at the still playing show. “I hope I don’t have to wait until I’m in my seventies to find happiness like this.”
I shook my head. “You won’t. You’ll always have me.”
She squeezed my hand and leaned her head down on my shoulder.
“Damn right.”
I’d woken up next to Ivy, and finally, after days of not feeling inspired to even touch my paints, I pulled out a canvas and started getting to work. The sun hadn’t even come up yet, but my mind was wide awake.
After a while, a groan came from the bed, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Ivy sitting up, her hair a mess. Her long, blonde, soft waves were somewhat frizzy and very tangled.
“What in the world are you doing over there? It’s only”—she leaned over and tapped her phone—“Aspen, it’s not even eight in the morning yet. Really?” She flopped back down on the bed and stretched again. She definitely wasn’t a morning person.
“You know me, babe. Inspiration hits, and I hit back,” I told her before turning back to the canvas in front of me. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was making yet, but I could see it in my head. I just had to get it onto the canvas.
I heard Ivy roll out of bed and rummage through the kitchen. “Do you want a cup?” she hollered.
“Yes, please. I already have a cup if you want to just refill it,” I replied.
She walked over towards me to grab my discarded and cold coffee from when I woke up at four and stopped. “Holy shit, Aspen. This is stunning.”
Normally, I hated others seeing my work, especially before it was done.
But Ivy didn’t count. When we first became friends, she used to come over with her books and lie across my couch while I painted for hours.
We’d turn on classical fantasy-inspired music on one of our phones, and just spend time being in each other's space. I think that’s why it was so easy for me to just exist around her now.
“Thanks. I’m not sure exactly where it’s going yet, but it just sort of—I don’t know—formed in my head.
It’s hard to explain.” Looking over the canvas, the top half was covered in a light blue and purple, the bottom half was a mix of dark blue, shades of green, and browns.
“I may add some mountains or something. An ode to Colorado, if you will.”
I glanced over my shoulder at her to see her nodding her head.
“I can see it. The trees and the stream. It looks beautiful.” She wandered away to get us both some coffee and came back with it made just the way I liked—a little bit of chocolate coffee creamer, cinnamon, and whipped cream on the top.
“Okay, so work tonight. Can I come over tomorrow and help you get ready?”
“Of course you can. Why even ask?” I smiled and took a drink of my coffee. “Ugh, perfect. I swear, if you were a man, I wouldn’t have to do any of this drama. You’d be perfect.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you,” she sighed and sat down on the couch.
I stared at her for a minute before setting down my coffee and picking up a brush. I grabbed some grey paint and then casually asked, “Okay, Ivy, spill it. What’s going on with fuck head?”
I didn’t look up; I just kept painting. There was one major thing I’d learned about Ivy when we became friends.
She talked about her feelings better when people weren’t staring her down, waiting for answers.
So I didn’t. I gave her the space to collect her thoughts and tell me whatever she wanted, so I could help—assuming she wanted my help.
“Uhm, Todd wants to move in together.” I dropped my brush and stared at her. Fuck her feelings right now, she could process with my eyes on her.
I was chewing on my bottom lip and released it quickly, thinking of Rowan. Fuck, Aspen, focus. “And what do you want? I mean…what do you think about that idea? Moving in together…is…big.”