Chapter 43 Rosie
ROSIE
“And why exactly haven’t you checked your texts from him?” Megan looked at me as she placed curlers in my hair. It didn’t make the most sense when I tried to articulate it, but clearly, my friends were not willing to let it go.
“She didn’t want his words, obviously. She wanted his actions. Really? Have you ever read a romance novel?” Carol chirped in from my closet, where she was hanging all the dresses she had bought.
“That sounds better than the words I have in my head.”
“What are the words in your head?” Megan’s fingers continued to roll and pin in a methodical precision.
“It sounds dumb when I say it out loud.” I slumped down, but her pesky fingers followed where my hair was going anyway. “Ouch,” I complained.
“Stop being a baby—about the hair and this. Tell us.”
“Mostly stupid, embarrassed, annoyed, and irritated that I’m annoyed. And really…sad.”
“Put your big girl pants on and try. If you can’t explain it to us, how do you expect Wesley to know?” Carol, who was firmly team Rosie move on, chastised, and Megan, who kept giving me a side-eye like she had opinions but wanted me to come to my own conclusion, was moving her head in agreement.
“Start with stupid…” Carol said slowly.
I glared at her through the mirror, but she just opened her eyes wider and gave me the any day now look friends were so good at.
“Fine,” I huffed. “I feel stupid because, like, did everyone know? I thought I did so well at hiding it.”
“You drooled over him, Rosie, but Wesley had no idea. Of that, I can assure you.” Megan looked upset at my words. “Continue.”
“Embarassed because I feel like everyone found out the secret I tried to bury for years, and now he thinks he wants me…And that annoys me and makes me irritated, because how can I trust that? Does he even know what he wants? Because I’m pretty sure that, four weeks ago, he was giving it to someone, and that someone wasn’t me… ” I trailed off.
“Can I…maybe interject here?” Megan raised her hand, and Carol called on her like she was a teacher.
“Yes. Your turn.”
“So…you said you tried to bury it for years, and I only noticed in the way you watched Wesley when his back was turned. I pointed it out to Lake, and before then, he was completely unaware, and I only had inklings that was the way you felt. But I was never absolutely sure until recently, when I saw the way you reacted to him getting with Caitlin—Lake as well—and then it all melded together. If you were burying it, hiding it, isn’t it a little… I don’t know…”
“Shitty. The word you’re looking for is shitty,” Carol said.
“And I don’t blame you for it. You get to feel however it is you want to feel.
But…” She let out a sigh, like she didn’t want to be saying what she was.
“But it’s unfair to expect someone to act on feelings you were hiding.
It’s unfair to hold that against him. From where I stand, that man has been all in since the second his heart caught up with him.
As much as it pains me to admit”—she grimaced—“I still think you should have a one-night stand, get your rocks off, and then maybe sleep with Wesley. See who’s better in the sack. ”
“You were so close at giving some good advice. Really, so close,” Megan snapped at her. “As far as being with someone else…He ended it before anyone ever told him anything, and he might be late to the game, Rosie, but he’s here, and he’s ready to play. The ball is completely in your court.”
“Wait. We never addressed her being sad,” Carol pointed out.
“She’s sad because she misses Wesley, you numpty.” Megan thwacked her over the head with a makeup brush.
“I’m not saying it doesn’t make it suck any less that it took him this long.
Your feelings, your anxiety… Everything is valid, but so are his.
He is coming to terms with his love and grappling with the fact that he is losing you at the same time.
You’ve had ten years to perfect this—made it an art form, really—and there is only one of you hiding from it now. ”
The truth settled over me in waves. I knew she was right, but I still struggled.
I felt like everything I’d ever wanted was within reach.
But is it really mine? How can I be sure?
I stayed pretty silent while Megan continued with my hair and makeup, Carol putting the dresses together with matching purses and accessories.
“How can I be sure?” I blurted out loud. And instead of Megan giving me helpful insight, it was Carol.
“You never know. People know their partners for years, and they still turn out to be absolute fucktwats. But the point is that you’ll never know if you don’t try.
You choose to trust, and you choose each other.
Suuuuure, people can ruin your trust, but has Wesley done anything to make you not trust him? ”
I had to think about that for a minute, and I had to admit, I was feeling dumb.
Not in the way I had before, but dumb. They were right.
How could I expect Wesley to validate or care about feelings he didn’t know I had?
Friends turned into more all the time or reverted back to friends…
I mean, had anyone seen Friends? Ross and Rachel?
“No,”
“Okay, then.” The subject was officially dropped after that, both having said what they needed to and giving me more than enough to think over.
The next two hours—entirely too long for my liking—passed in finishing touches and the right blush color.
Carol begged and pleaded with me to put my contacts in, but I put my foot down.
No way, no how. I wasn’t doing it. They dressed me like a teenager, and they were having entirely too much fun.
“I can’t believe we are going to prom!” Megan screeched when we were finally finished. She took out her phone and started snapping pictures of us. Megan was meeting Lake there, Carol was meeting someone she’d met on a dating app, and I was meeting Orla’s pick, Jackson, at the rec center as well.
I still couldn’t believe I got talked into it, especially for a first date.
It was a fundraiser for the arts department at the rec center.
That was how it came to our attention, and how I had been swindled into it.
I did have to admit that I looked good, though.
My dress was midnight blue. It had spaghetti straps, a low neckline, and was almost backless and silk, with a slit all the way up my thigh.
It swished when I walked and had pockets, so I was in love.
Megan applied some shimmery stuff all over my chest, shoulders, and back, while Carol did the finishing touches on my makeup—still, simple, and subtle, but with a deep red, almost muddled wine lip. Carol hesitantly handed me my glasses with a frown, but I put them on.
They both looked amazing as well, Megan in a deep red sweetheart-cut dress, and Carol in an emerald mermaid gown. I was starting to feel anxious about the date in general, even though I knew my girls would be there. I…I didn’t want to go.
Sure, I didn’t want to go on the other dates, but the talks from earlier still hung heavily in the room and weighed on my mind.
Am I also at fault? What would have happened if I told him?