4
He shrugs, that easy smile returning. “Don’t worry about it. I figured you were probably busy or something. Besides, it’s been a long time. It’s not like I’ll go home tonight and cry about it.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
He sniffs, making a fake crying face, and I laugh.
“So, how was North Carolina?” I ask.
“Great! I was—”
“Scott!”
We both glance at the bridal party surrounding Macy and Jacob, who are now all assembled for a group photo, minus Scott.
“I’ve gotta go,” he says, turning back to me. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
I nod, and he rushes off to join the others. Macy catches my eye, shooting me an all too excited look. I shake my head to try and keep her from getting any ideas, then go back inside, my stomach still full of butterflies.
He remembered. He actually remembered.
I think back to that day. I was still new at my job, and I remember it had been particularly stressful. I think Monica had even asked me to work late. But I still can’t believe I stood Scott up, or that he actually remembered and showed up at the café that day.
“Why are you blushing so much?”
I jump, snapping back into focus. I made it back to my table, where Jeremiah is now glaring at me.
“Blushing? I’m not…” I reach up and brush my cheek, which is radiating heat. I’m definitely blushing.
I ignore Jeremiah and glance at the time. It’s ten minutes past five. The photographer is running behind, which actually might work in our favor, since dinner is an entire hour off schedule. Just as I look back up, the groomsmen and bridesmaids file into the room through the same door I just came through.
The group begins making their rounds, walking around and mingling, often stopped by guests who walk over to share handshakes and hugs. It seems like all four of the bridal party are somehow related to Jacob and Macy, so they know most everyone here. I try to focus on those at my table, making polite conversation with the others and enjoying the sparkling drink in front of me (especially since Jeremiah has gone impolitely silent), but my eyes keep wandering to the group, to Scott.
It’s embarrassing to admit, as if I’m some school girl with a crush on her classmate rather than a twenty-three-year-old adult woman, but I can’t help it.
It isn’t long before Macy and Jacob come into the reception area to the sound of cheers and applause. They take their seats on stage along with their bridal party, and Melanie passes a microphone up for speeches. As Gabriella is speaking, my phone buzzes with a call from Giovanni. I motion to Jeremiah, and we quietly head outside. Gio happily informs me the food is ready a bit earlier than we expected.
“It’s ready; let’s head out early,” I say. Jeremiah just nods.
I text Melanie to give her a heads up, then Jeremiah and I climb into his truck.
“The ceremony was beautiful, wasn’t it? Her bridesmaid’s dresses are gorgeous, not to mention Macy’s dress. And did you see? It even had pockets!” I sigh. “When I get married, I am so going to find a dress with pockets.”
Jeremiah stays silent. I glance over at him, but his gaze is fixed on the road, his expression impassive.
“Jeremiah? Are you alright?”
He blinks and looks over at me, then just nods his head. “I’m fine.”
“Really? Because it doesn’t seem like it.”
“I’m fine. Just drop it, alright?”
I’m too taken aback to respond. The entire time I’ve known Jeremiah, he’s always been a bit moody. He doesn’t really like to go out of his way to do things, he can be rude at times, and he can be sort of full of himself, but if you can look past all that, he really is nice, deep down, and he’s always been there for me. He’s like a grumpy old man trapped in a twenty-four-year-old’s body.
But despite all of that, he’s never actually snapped at me before. He’s always been fairly patient with me. Actually, “long-suffering” is a better word choice to describe how he deals with me and my endless requests for his help. So, after his outburst, the rest of our ride to the restaurant and then back to the venue is uncomfortably silent.
He pulls up to the venue, and Melanie rushes out the door and waves. I grab the handle to open the door when Jeremiah puts his hand on my arm. I look at him curiously.
“Sorry I snapped,” he says gruffly.
I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to read his expression, to understand what’s going on, but unfortunately, I’m no mind reader.
“Don’t worry about it. Weddings stress everyone out,” I smile. “Besides, I probably deserve to be snapped at. I roped you into all this extra stuff you never signed up for, just like I always do. You’re just too reliable,” I tease.
Something passes over his face. “I don’t mind,” he says. The corner of his lip twitches like he might smile too, then he releases my arm and I hop down out of the car.
“The speeches just finished, everyone is waiting for the food, we need to get set up!” Melanie rushes up to me looking frazzled. I nod as Jeremiah opens the tailgate of his truck.
Jeremiah grabs one of the black bags of food and takes it inside. I reach for one next, and as I pull it off the truck, another pair of arms reaches past me, pulling a significantly heavier bag off.
“Need a hand?”
I glance up to see Scott grinning next to me.
“Oh! You pop up everywhere,” I say nervously, my voice wobbling. “Thank you for the help.”
“No problem. Lead the way!”
Scott follows as I chase after Melanie to the kitchen to unpack the food.
“So, Macy says you’re a personal assistant now?” he asks.
I nod as I slide an aluminum tray of chicken alfredo from one of the bags. “Mhm. And what about you? Are you a videographer like you planned?”
“Yup! Actually, I do a lot of remote editing, too.”
“You did exactly what you said you’d do,” I shake my head, passing off the tray of pasta.
“What, you thought I was lying?”
“No,” I smile, surprised at how much it feels like we’ve gone back in time, like we’re making coffee and chatting back at the café. “I knew you could do it. I just wondered if you’d changed your mind.”
“Nah. I like cameras. And I get to make my own schedule. It’s a pretty sweet gig.”
With help from a few others, we manage to get all the food set out quickly, and soon, the guests line up to fill their plates. Melanie corners me, showing me the rest of the schedule for the night, going over every detail. Scott stands by, watching with amusement.
Melanie is reaching the end of her rope as far as nerves go, and I’m feeling worse and worse about how harsh I was with her over the phone. I was in a similar position to her four years ago when Monica hired me, completely in over my head, and I understand how absolutely overwhelming things can feel. Melanie shouldn’t have slacked off and tried to skip the wedding, but she really is trying her best to make things right.
“Melanie,” I say, interrupting her waterfall of words, “you’re doing a great job. Really. You may have messed up a little at the beginning, but you’ve made this entire thing run smoothly, even with the last minute changes to the schedule.” I gesture to the food. “Don’t be so worried, okay? Just a couple more hours and you’ll be home eating ice cream on your couch. At least, that’s what I’ll be doing.” I pause. “Um, I’ll be on my couch though, not yours, obviously. Just to clarify.”
Scott snickers behind me. Melanie looks at me with wide eyes, then her face scrunches, and she starts to cry.
“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have messed everything up. It’s just—I realized this morning I forgot to order the catering, and then I panicked and I didn’t know what to do. I was too afraid to tell them, and I didn’t want to make anyone mad, so I thought if I pretended I was sick or avoided their calls they would find someone to replace me. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t… I… I…”
I gape at her for a moment and share a look with Scott, unsure what to do. After a few seconds, I pull Melanie into a hug.
“You should have been the coordinator, not me,” she sniffs, thoroughly embarrassed by her tears. “I thought I could do this, but I couldn’t. I have no idea what I’m doing; I never should have offered.”
I squeeze her, then shake my head as she steps back. “I’ll tell you a secret. No one knows what they’re doing, including me. Some of us are just really good at pretending.” I wink, then glance around, noticing some of the guests are staring. “Why don’t you take a break in the bathroom? Everyone is eating; you have some time.”
Melanie nods gratefully, then rushes off to clean herself up.
Scott shifts his weight. “You still don’t know what you’re doing, huh?”
I look up at him and shrug. “Not really.”
“So I take it my advice didn’t help?”
I wince. “I don’t think your advice was at fault…”
He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“Shouldn’t you be eating?” I ask, pointing at his empty seat on the stage. “The rest of the bridal party is up there with Macy and Jacob.”
“I guess you’re right. Better get back.” He flashes me a smile, then walks back to the stage, taking his seat. I sigh as I walk back to my table to retrieve my plate, but Jeremiah stops me.
“I have to leave early.”
I halt, caught off guard. “What?”
“I need to leave early,” he repeats. “Something came up.”
“Oh, um…” I glance at my phone. “It’s only seven fifteen. Are you sure—”
“I can give you a ride home now, but if you want to stay you’ll have to ride with someone else.”
I blink a few times, considering what to do. I got to work at six thirty this morning to ensure I’d get off on time, so I am admittedly pretty tired. And, now that dinner and speeches are over, all that’s left is dancing, which is far from my favorite activity. I don’t mind leaving early. “Um… okay. Let me just say goodbye to Macy, first.”
“I’ll be in the car.”
I watch as Jeremiah shuffles off to the car. Something is really off with him tonight.
Macy is as sweet and gracious as always, thanking me again profusely for my help and squeezing me in such a tight hug I can’t breathe. I say my goodbyes and congratulations to her and Jacob, then consider saying goodbye to Scott. I turn to walk over to him, but I stop as my heart sinks a little. He’s speaking with another girl who’s leaning forward on the table, obviously flirting with him. She’s probably his girlfriend, or trying to be.
This feels familiar.
I let out a sharp sigh, frustrated at myself for once again getting caught up in a crush that had been hiding in my emotions like an unwelcome stowaway for the last six years. I shouldn’t be feeling disappointed. It’s silly. We’re both adults with separate careers and lives now. I’m busy with a full time job that hardly allows me time for anything else. I don’t know anything about Scott anymore, and he knows nothing about me. Even back when we worked together, we only knew each other for a year. It’s not like we’re long lost childhood friends.
I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder, still feeling slightly disappointed, and still annoyed with myself, as the cacophony of voices, clinking plates, and music fades behind me. I climb into Jeremiah’s truck and as we silently pull away, I do my best to leave behind the silly dreams and grand notions about life being something so magical, something Scott had convinced me to believe back then.
He’s different from me. Scott has a talent, a passion. He knew what he wanted to do from the start, and now, he’s living out his dream and actually doing it. He’s just like Macy—she fell in love and got married by the age of twenty-five, just like she’s been saying she would since I met her. I’m happy for her. I’m happy for both of them. They both know what they want to do, what they want from life.
But that’s not me. I’m still just as clueless as I was at eighteen. I still feel just as lost and behind, and I’m afraid things will always be like this, that I’ll continue to stand still and be pulled in whatever direction the current moves while everyone else passes me by. I feel trapped, stuck, and I have no ideas for my future, no goals or five year plans.
I’ve just gotten really good at pretending I do.
The tantalizing aroma of pizza greets me as I swing the door to my apartment open, reminding me of the fact that I missed out on dinner at the wedding. The sound of unfamiliar voices grows louder as I kick off my shoes and shove them in our tiny shoe closet.
“Lucy?”
I brush my fingers through my hair as I walk in view of the living area, where my roommate Jessie is eating pizza with a couple of girls I don’t recognize. They’ve all fallen silent at my entrance.
“Hey, Jessie,” I smile. Every time I see her, the theme song from that Disney show with the same name plays in my head. It’s oddly fitting for her.
“Hey!” She visibly brightens, holding up a slice of pizza as a form of greeting. “You’re back early!”
“Yeah, my ride needed to leave all of a sudden.” I move into the kitchen and peek in the pizza box. Cheese pizza, two slices left.
“Go ahead and have them; we’re done,” Jessie says as if reading my mind.
Jessie moved in almost immediately after she graduated high school, just about four months ago. I was concerned about having such a young roommate, but Stephanie, my other roommate (who happens to be the one that rents out the rooms to us), said it’d be fine, and so far, she’s right. Sure, Jessie likes to stay up way later than Stephanie and I, and she has noisy friends over fairly often, but she’s been respectful and thoughtful, and she’s always so cheery that Stephanie refers to her as “Little Miss Sunshine” behind her back. The one thing I don’t understand is how Jessie can afford rent with just a part time job. I assume her parents pay the rent for her.
I tear into a piece of pizza without even grabbing a plate. “Thank you so much, I’m starving.”
“No problem!”
I lean over the counter to glance at the TV. “The Proposal?”
“Yes! I love this movie!”
“Me too.” I smile and glance at Jessie’s friends, whose faces are buried in their phones. “I’ll leave you to it.”
I grab my purse off the counter and take the last slice of pizza as I head for my room.
“Wait!” Jessie calls, and I pause. “You’re welcome to join us, if you want!”
I shake my head. “Thanks, but I’m pretty tired. I’m going to take a shower and crash.”
Jessie deflates a little. “Oh, sure, of course, you’re probably exhausted from work. Goodnight!”
“Night!”
After I shower and dry my hair, I finally plop into bed. I stare up at the ceiling, thinking back over the day and running over my mental checklist, reassuring myself I completed all my tasks for work and trying to shake the feeling that I’ve forgotten something. This is always how it goes on Fridays.
I turn on my side, pulling the blanket up to my chin and rubbing my feet under the covers, trying to warm my frigid toes. My eyelids grow heavy, and my mind starts to wander as I drift off. I wonder what was bothering Jeremiah today… He was fine when I asked him to help me with the food, but once the ceremony was over, he—
My eyes fly back open and I sit up, grabbing my phone. I nearly forgot to order catering for Monica’s board meeting tomorrow. If I’m not careful, I’ll forget to order the dinner at all. I swipe to the reminders app, deciding to set an alarm to order early tomorrow morning when Giovanni’s opens.
Just as I start to type, a text comes through from an unfamiliar number. I tap the notification, and my heart thumps as I read the message.
“Hey Lucy! This is Scott. I got your number from Macy. Hope that’s alright. Anyway, would you like to get coffee with me sometime and catch up? Was going to ask you tonight, but you left before I had the chance.”
I stare at the screen for a few moments, a mixture of excitement, surprise, and nerves all jumbling into a mess in my stomach. The crush is strong with me.
Is he asking me on a date?
I stare at the message some more as if I’m going to uncover some hidden meaning or the answer to life (which, I am told on reasonable authority, is forty-two. Google it). I’ve seen the memes: the girl gets asked out once and, like a psycho, she immediately starts planning the wedding. I used to laugh at that and say I would never be so ridiculous, but here I am thinking about how nicely my wedding dress with pockets will go with his tux and bowtie.
I squeeze my eyes shut and throw my phone down on my bed. The phone bounces once, then I shake my head, taking a deep breath.
Don’t be a freak, Lucille. It’s not a date; he just wants to catch up. Don’t make things weird.
I stare at my facedown phone for a few more seconds until I can’t stand it anymore, then I snatch it up and type a quick response before I can overthink it.
Me: Hi, Scott! Sorry, the person I rode with needed to leave early unexpectedly. Sure, coffee sounds great! When were you thinking?
I wait nervously, fidgeting as I watch the typing bubble bounce. Finally, his response appears.
Scott: Weekday mornings work for you?
Me: Not really, I work Monday through Friday.
Scott: Alright, then how about tomorrow?
I freeze, staring down at the phone in my hands. Tomorrow? As in, you know, tomorrow?
The three typing dots bounce a few times, then another message pops up.
Scott: If that’s too last minute, I get it. I would just really like to see you again soon :)
At that, heat creeps from my cheeks all the way to my ears, and a thrill of nervous excitement rushes through me.
Stop it, stop it, stop it!
I try to talk some sense into myself. My hopes are rising much too quickly, and I need to tamp them down. For all I know, Scott has a girlfriend. He never said this was a date. It’s just two people catching up for coffee.
Me: I can make tomorrow work.
Scott: Great! You a morning person?
Me: Not at all.
Scott: Haha, okay. How about we meet at 1?
Me: God bless you and your kindness toward us late rising folk.
Scott: Anything to make sure you don’t stand me up like you did on our first date. Night, Lucy.
What? Our first… what?
Once again, I am frozen in place, but this time I think I’ll probably be stuck like this for eternity. I can see it now. I’ll miss so many days of work they’ll finally come looking for me, only to discover I’ve been turned to stone. They’ll find me here and move me to the graveyard as a decorative statue. The funeral will be beautiful. My epitaph will say, “Here sits Lucille Greene. She never took life for granite, and she rocked our world.”
I apologize for the rock puns. I’m freaking out right now.
My phone buzzes once more in my hand, breaking the spell over me as I look down to see a gif of an adorable puppy falling asleep sitting up. A smile spreads across my face, replacing my shock, and I can’t stop the warm, giddy feeling spilling out of me. I fall backward on my bed, my head landing on my pillow as I reply with a simple “Goodnight.”
I wrap myself up tightly under the covers again and turn on my side, staring out at the moon peeking through the tree branches brushing the window to my room. All the exhaustion I’d been feeling is chased away by my fast beating heart and thoughts of tomorrow’s date.
I don’t get much sleep, after all.
After an unsuccessful night’s sleep, I roll out of bed much earlier than usual. I guess I could have answered “Yes” to Scott’s morning person question, even if it only applied to today.
I yawn and stretch, stumbling out to the kitchen in my PJ’s to make coffee. I pour the grounds in the filter, then set the pot to brew. As it starts to boil, I lean back against the counter and cross my arms, staring absentmindedly at the rays of warm sunlight peeking through the blinds. My feet are freezing on the laminate floor, but I’m still half asleep and hardly notice.
Once the coffee is ready, I reach into the cabinet and pull out my favorite mug, then fill it with coffee. I stand in place for a moment, breathing in the steam and hugging my drink close for warmth, not sure what to do. I’m usually always behind in the mornings; I never have time to sit and slowly enjoy my coffee.
I settle on the couch, sipping away and anxiously glancing at the clock every few minutes. I really should have suggested an earlier time.
As I continue staring at the wall, my epically short, epically inconsequential dating history replays in my mind. I’ve only ever been on three dates, all with one guy, and they all went the same: we would meet up, he would talk for a few hours telling me all sorts of things about himself and his family, then he would hug me, and I’d go home (I know, juicy stuff). After the third date, he ghosted me, and I never heard from him again. That all happened five years ago, shortly after I’d moved into the apartment.
Actually, a few months after we stopped talking, I saw him at a café. I didn’t say anything to him, but it was obvious he had seen me and was doing everything in his power to pretend he hadn’t. It looked like he was trying to burn a hole though his laptop screen with how hard he was staring at it.
Not quite sure what I did wrong there, but it probably had something to do with the fact that at the end of the third date, I got a call from a fairly frustrated Monica over a misunderstanding from work. She thought I hadn’t done something fairly important that she’d asked me to do, even though I had, and, in what I consider to be a fair reaction, I totally freaked out. It’s stressful, being responsible for the management of someone else’s schedule. An important someone else, at that, much more important than me. Plus, she was not happy, and it scared the crap out of me, even though I knew I’d done nothing wrong. Besides, as someone with no prior training and no college degree, I’m beyond lucky to have a job like this. I panicked at the thought of being fired.
Suffice it to say, I haven’t been on any dates since, which is why I’m so nervous. Not to mention the fact that I’ve apparently never gotten over my crush on Scott.
“Lucy?”
I jump, startled out of my thoughts by Jessie’s appearance.
“Morning,” I say, my voice sounding groggy.
“I’ve never seen you up before ten thirty on a Saturday morning.” Her eyebrows knit together in concern. “Is everything okay?”
I give her a half smile, slightly embarrassed that I’m so predictable. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just have a—” I stop, remembering who I’m talking to. “I have plans today.”
Jessie brightens. “What are you going to do?”
“Meet up with a friend for coffee.”
“Oh, have you ever been to The Roast?” She noisily grabs a mug and pours herself a cup of the coffee I brewed.
“Mhm. I used to work there, actually.”
Jessie whips around. “Really? I never knew that! That’s where I work!”
I blink. Jessie works at The Roast? I knew she had a part time job, but… how did I not know that? “I didn’t know,” I admit.
She nods and shrugs a shoulder. “You’re always so busy, and I usually work night shift, so there’s no reason you’d know. So, is that where you’re going today?”
“Are you working today?”
“Nope!”
“Then yes, that’s where we’re going.” Jessie is nice, but I’d rather not have an audience while I’m with Scott.
“You know, I was just thinking,” Jessie stirs creamer in her coffee, her tone less enthusiastic and more nervous. “We’ve never hung out before. We should get coffee or something sometime!”
“Sure, that’d be great,” I say, only half paying attention. Jessie perks up, and I stand, stretching again and setting my mug down. If I’m going to sit around all antsy, I may as well get dressed and ready.