Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Book Bar is much quieter in the middle of the day, but there are a handful of people sprinkled throughout the room, many of whom I know from classes. A lot of people in our program come here. It’s quiet, and they give student discounts.
I yawn, then tug at the back of my shirt. It’s new, and I forgot to cut off the tag. It bothers me even more when I’m tired like this. I never did go back to sleep last night. And Cosmos never responded to my last text.
“Hello, Sullivan,” Kiara sing-songs a little too loud when she spots him at a table in the back. He scowls at her before returning his attention to his laptop.
“I love getting under his skin.” Kiara giggles. “Get me a latte, will you?” She heads in Sullivan’s direction and claims the table right next to him.
Being here, talking about classes, getting coffee, it all feels strange after spending so much time in the hospital.
Good, but strange. Almost like it never happened.
Like that time occurred in some bubble universe no one else knows about.
I feel oddly distanced from my life and unsure how to step back into it.
I want things to return to normal, but I also feel like normal doesn’t fit anymore.
The bell over the door chimes, and a woman walks in.
Her head is bald, and she has that tired look I’m so familiar with.
How long has she been doing chemo? Is it working?
Or will she find herself like my mom, having to try experimental treatments that may or may not work?
Mom’s doing well, but the doctors say we aren’t out of the woods.
They still won’t make any guarantees that the cancer won’t come back, that we won’t find ourselves right back where we were.
I give the woman a small smile, which she returns. Then, I turn my attention back to the barista. After ordering my coffee, I lean across the counter and point as subtly as possible. “See that woman who just walked in? When she comes to order, would you put it on my card?”
I hand her the card, and she takes it with a conspiratorial smile.
While waiting for my drink, I check my phone again.
No response from Cosmos. Doomsday thoughts bounce around inside my head, punching tiny holes in my already Swiss cheese level self-confidence.
Does he hate the beach? Or just the idea of sex in public?
Or was suggesting sex on a first date too forward?
He was the one to suggest it first, though… right?
I study our text exchange more closely. I guess he didn’t actually suggest sex.
He just said ‘spicy parts,’ which could mean lots of things.
Ugh. Of course, I took it the wrong way.
I also made an assumption that we’d be going out on Wednesday when we never actually made plans.
He told me he was off on Wednesday and that he was looking forward to seeing me, but he never asked me to go out with him then. Shit.
I start typing a message, backpedaling on my last text. But, it doesn’t sound right. Erase. Start again. This one is basically a short novel. The Tales of Panicking Hazel. All my neurotic tendencies on display for him to see.
I go to erase it, but Sullivan steps up to the counter and sets his mug down on the counter next to me. I’m so startled my finger slips and hits send.
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted to go out on Wednesday.
You’ll probably be exhausted after working so many shifts and want time to rest. The last thing you need is the stress of a first date.
And I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be the one planning the date either.
I mean, what is this, 1952? I’ve clearly been reading too many romance novels with a bit of a chauvinistic bent.
When we go on a first date (if you still want that) we can plan something together, and it definitely doesn’t have to involve sex (on a beach or otherwise).
Don’t get me wrong, I’d be up for it. I mean, I’m not usually the type to have sex with someone on a first date.
I’ve never done that before. But… I don’t know.
This feels different. Like we’ve already been on a bunch of faux-first dates.
Doesn’t it? Maybe I’m wrong. I’m sorry. I totally get it if you never want to see me again.
“Shit!” I say.
“What’s wrong?” Sullivan asks.
I scramble to erase the message, but it already says it’s been read. Or he’s reading it now. Deleting it will only make it worse.
I slump and hit my head against the counter. “I just made a complete fool of myself in front of a guy I really, really like.”
“So,” Sullivan says as if that’s the end of a sentence. As if it doesn’t matter at all.
“You don’t get it.” I straighten up. “I just accidentally showed all the internal ruminative workings of my brain. He’s gonna think I’m crazy.”
“Better he knows now, right?”
My eyes feel like they’re bulging out of my head. “No. It’s better if he never knows.”
Sullivan pours half and half into his already half-drunk coffee until the liquid reaches the rim. Ick. He stirs it quietly for a moment before looking up and meeting my eyes. “Is that really how you want to be loved?”
He leaves me holding my phone and my broken ego. On the way back to his table, he detours to talk to Kiara. She scowls at him, but then he says something that makes her laugh. He walks away smiling a goofy grin.
Is he right? Is it better to show up exactly as you are and let the other person decide if they can love the real you?
I want that. I want someone to love me as I am, with all my neuroses and quirks, but…
what if that person doesn’t exist? A planet full of people and not a single one who would tolerate me without the masks, much less love me.
Our coffee comes, and there’s still no response from Cosmos. Kiara and I work on our novels for thirty minutes before we check in with each other. I’ve written three hundred and thirty-six new words and deleted twice that many. If I don’t snap out of it and focus, I’m never going to finish.
I go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. Wash my hands twice. And give myself a pep talk in the mirror.
When I get back to the table, Kiara is grinning at me like she knows a secret. “You got a text from Sexy Doctor Man.”
My stomach does a little flip, and I suddenly feel nauseous.
Kiara bounces in her seat. “I didn’t read it, but your phone was right there on the table, so I saw it come through.”
Taking a deep breath, I sit down and look at my phone.
Cosmos:
You’re right. This is different. More different than you know.
I’m in and out of surgery all day, but should be available to talk at three. Can I call you?
I let out a sigh. I haven’t ruined it. Not yet. We’ll talk soon, and everything will be fine. Maybe. Maybe not. What did he mean by more different than you know? Is that code for something? Is it supposed to be romantic? Would everyone know what that means but me?
“So, what’s going on between you two?” Kiara asks, startling me from my thoughts.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Maybe something.”
“It should be something.” She glances at Sullivan out of the corner of her eye. He’s frantically typing away at the table next to us, like he’s trying to win a race against his novel, or like he’s trying to ignore our conversation.
“Well, if you don’t lick him like a lollipop, I will,” Kiara says, loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “That man’s probably got a dick hot enough to burn my tongue.”
Sullivan’s eyes bug out, and he chokes on his drink.
Kiara laughs. “Too easy.”
“Kiaraaaa,” I hiss and slap her arm.
“Oh, you know I’m just playing with him,” she whispers.
Sullivan turns on her, his scowl so deep it looks physically painful. “So, you’ve taken to objectifying men, now? That’s real feminist of you.”
Kiara smiles her sweetest smile. “Just a pendulum reaction to thousands of years of women being dehumanized and turned into objects for men’s pleasure. About time we got in on the action.”
“You give feminists a bad name.” Sullivan stalks off to get napkins for his spilled coffee.
“And you give moody writers a bad rep,” Kiara calls after him.
“You’re shameless.” I shake my head and wake up my computer.
“You love it.” She bats her eyelashes at me like an innocent flirt.
“You really shouldn’t be so cruel. I think he actually likes you,” I say, dropping my voice.
She brushes me off, but when we go back to writing, she glances over at Sullivan, her expression thoughtful.
I’m slightly more focused after Cosmos didn’t make a big deal about my overthinking. Over the course of the next hour, I finish a whole chapter. A solid output considering my chapters tend to be long. Then I get stuck, so I turn to my phone.
Now that I think about it, Cosmos’ last messages were brief, a little terse even.
Maybe I read them wrong the first time. He could have meant our relationship is different because we can stop time—a factual statement, not an emotional one.
Maybe he was just trying to calm me down before he calls the whole thing off.
No, he likes me. He couldn’t have kissed me the way he did if he didn’t like me. I’m being paranoid again. His messages were only short because he had to be in surgery. It’s fine.
Kiara and I write for another thirty-minute sprint, but the closer it gets to three, the less focus I have. My stomach is tight, and my heart rate is up. At a quarter to three, I call it a day and start packing my computer. My phone vibrates. A call from Cosmos.
“H-hello.” My voice shakes, and I clear my throat before repeating myself.
“Hey, it’s Cosmos.” It’s kind of cute that he tells me, even though he must know I saw his name when I picked up.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk before.” He sounds tired. “The reason I didn’t respond right away to your comment about Wednesday was that I was trying to find someone to cover the rest of my shift. I don’t want to wait until Wednesday. I know this is last minute, but can I see you tonight?”
I want to happy-scream, ‘Yes!’ But I settle for a silent jiggle dance and a subdued, “Sure. I’d like that.”
“There’s just one problem,” Cosmos says.
“Well, it doesn’t have to be a problem. But my family always has dinner together on Monday nights, unless someone’s working.
I’ve missed the last few, and apparently my niece cried last week because I wasn’t there.
I know it’s weird and too soon. Believe me, I would rather go to the beach,” there’s a teasing smile in Cosmos’ voice that sets me at ease, even as it makes my whole body spark with electricity, “but would you come to family dinner with me instead? We just need to make an appearance, maybe play a few rounds of Uno with my niece. Then, I’ll make it up to you. ”
I’ve never heard Cosmos come so close to rambling. It’s adorable. I want to wrap my arms around him and hug him. While I was panicking about moving too fast, he was doing the same thing, just in a different way.
Meeting his family makes my palms sweat, but I like the thought of getting to see where he’s from.
I want to know everything about him, including what he’s like with the people who’ve known him the longest. And hearing him talk about his concern for his niece makes my ovaries do strange little flips—which is a thing, apparently. Who knew?
“I’d love to come. Is there anything I can bring?”
“Just yourself.”
We’re quiet for a minute, like neither of us wants to hang up.
“Although,” Cosmos says. “If you bring something dinosaur related—it could be anything really—my niece will love you forever.”
“I’d like that.” My throat feels a little tight, and I’m not sure why. I guess I just really want his family to like me. “I’ll send you a text with my address.”
“I’ll be there in two hours,” he says. “Sooner if possible.”