Chapter 11 Lindsey
LINDSEY
“I can’t believe Mom still hasn’t texted you,” Lucy says as she and Kayla file into my office Monday after lunch. “She’s bound to have figured out by now that we left her with a puppy grenade.”
“Not a word,” I say with a shrug as they plop into the chairs across from my desk. “Maybe she got the rowdiness out of her system already.”
Lucy shakes her head. “Ain’t no way. She’s probably holding Mom and Aunt Rose hostage in the garage with their hands and feet bound with tinsel.”
Kayla opens a bag of cheese puffs and offers some to Lucy and me. “Forget Rosemary’s Fur Baby. I want to know where Oliver’s taking you tonight.”
I reach my hand across the desk and into the bag of chips, plucking out a handful.
“First of all, he isn’t taking me anywhere,” I say.
“I’m meeting him. Second, I don’t know where we’re going.
I told him I’d show him more of the city.
I was thinking I’d take him to a few of the stores in town for some Christmas shopping.
We’ll probably grab a burger or something low-key. This is so not a big deal.”
Lucy scrunches her nose. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure Oliver thinks it is.” She turns to Kayla. “You should have seen him yesterday. It was adorable.”
Kayla blows a wisp of her honey-colored hair from her eyes. “I don’t get it, Linds. Why are you being so stubborn about this? This guy is awesome and clearly into you. What’s the deal?”
“Seriously,” Lucy adds. “It’s not like you’re not into Oliver. You get all giggly-wiggly with him. It’s cute. A little nauseating, but cute.”
I take my time chewing a cheese puff, brushing the orange dust off my hands. They’re not wrong. I do like Oliver. But I also like the sense of stability I have in my life without any romantic connections. You can’t get left at the party if you never show up.
“He’s great,” I admit. “But y’all, he’s a firefighter. I’m not saying he’s not extremely brave, but his job is also dangerous. I can appreciate what he does without wanting to be a part of that life.”
“What do you mean?” Kayla asks. “It’s not like you have to join the department too.”
“No,” I reply, “but let’s say we get together. I would never have a moment’s peace while he’s working. Part of me would always be waiting for that other shoe to drop, for that phone call telling me something horrible has happened.”
“That could happen with anyone, though,” Lucy says.
“Don’t you think I know that?” I snap and immediately wince. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. “I’m sorry. All I’m saying is, I don’t want to take any more risks than I have to. Oliver is lovely, and I’m sure he’ll make a great friend.”
Kayla and Lucy exchange dubious glances.
Even as the words leave my mouth, I wonder how realistic it is to think we could just be friends. How long would it take for lines to blur and feelings to develop? How long until I let my guard down and share too many pieces of myself, only to find I can never get them back?
“If that’s really how you feel, you need to make sure he knows that,” Lucy says. “Because he’s definitely into you.”
“You’re right,” I say. “Maybe I should cancel.”
“Wait a second,” Kayla says. “Look, it’s just a date. It’s not a lifetime commitment. What if you go into the evening without any expectations and see what happens? For all you know, you could find out he has really bad breath or that he braids his leg hair and this will all resolve itself.”
“Or maybe you’ll realize that some risks are worth taking,” Lucy adds.
I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off.
“Can you have an open mind about this? Please? Consider it a Christmas gift to me.”
I lift my brows. “So you changed your mind on the Taylor Swift vinyls you asked for?”
“I’m serious,” Lucy says. “This is what I want. I want you to spend the evening with him, but I want you to be present on this date. No having one foot already out the door. No thinking ten steps ahead and psyching yourself out. Just be in the moment with him, and if by the end of the night you’re still not feeling it, I’ll never mention him again. ”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Swear on Taylor Swift’s entire discography?”
My sister nods. “Even the ten-minute version of ‘All Too Well.’ And you know I don’t mess around when it comes to Taylor.”
It’s true. The girl once battled Ticketmaster for nine and a half hours for nosebleed seats and then stood out in the pouring rain with thousands of other Swifties during a four-hour concert.
I throw my hands up. “Okay. Deal.”
Lucy and Kayla share a victory high five.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work so I can leave on time,” I say, shooing them from the room.
Kayla bounces. “Leave on time for what?”
“Yes, what’s it called again?” Lucy asks, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
“My hangout,” I answer.
Lucy makes the sound of a gameshow buzzer. “Wrong. Try again.”
I huff out a breath. “Fine. My date. Are you happy now?”
Their squeals are my answer as I close the door behind them. If they’re excited about tonight, maybe I can give myself permission to get a little excited too.