This is very true.
My dad says my chatty ways come directly from my mom. My mom says it’s my dad. He vehemently denies being long-winded, but he has lost entire plots by focusing on details like what vegetable he was grabbing from the produce section when some guy tried to fight him.
I, however, don’t credit either one of them for my talkative ways. Being an oversharer is one of the main character flaws of being a writer. I often find the smallest details the most interesting and I love to paint a picture with my words. Even if they make nice, suburban housewives squirm in their seats.
“Okay, so we had sex twice, and for the orgasms . . .” I shut my eyes and start ticking my fingers trying to give an accurate count. “I think five? But that could be wrong.”
“So probably only four?” Ruby makes a reasonable assumption.
“I was thinking off in the other direction. It might have been more like six or seven.” It feels obscene to say out loud, but I don’t even care.
It was glorious to experience.
“And we’re still talking about Nathanial Adams, right?” Ashleigh asks. “The man who sold me my house, wears sweater-vests in June, and is on the HOA board? That Nate?”
“The very same,” I confirm, my toes curling in my shoes just thinking about him.
“I’m impressed and I’m glad you had that, but . . .” Ruby pushes her sandwich to the side and directs all her focus on me. “I think I’m going to have to be the buzzkill here.”
I knew this was coming and not in a bad way. When I’m being shortsighted about anything, I can count on Ruby being there to walk me through things. While I’m focused on the small details, she forces me to zoom out and view the whole picture.
“Okay, I’m ready.” I grab my wineglass and hold it close in case I need a sip. “Shoot.”
“You know I’m a proponent of having fun and doing what makes you happy. Whether that means a relationship, safe sex with multiple partners, or no sex at all, I think you should do what feels right,” she says. I already know this and I’m not sure if this is a reminder for me or her. “But no matter what, I think you need to go into it with your eyes open.”
I spin the crystal stem between my fingers but don’t drink it yet. “I totally agree.”
“I think if you want casual and fun sex, then you need to find someone other than Nate.” She rushes out the last words and lands the plane.
I knew it was coming, but it’s still a punch in the gut when I hear it out loud. And I haven’t even filled them in on Elizabeth yet.
“Okay, I hear you.” I take a deep gulp of wine and motion her on. “Now tell me why.”
“Because you care about him,” she says, simple and easy. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “And after seeing the way he was watching you on the back of that Mustang, I think he might have some hidden feelings for you too.”
“I knew it!” Ashleigh is living her best, know-it-all life right now, and I’m not sure I appreciate it. “I swear, it only took me—I don’t know, five minutes to see that beneath all the ridiculous jabs, you two really just wanted to rip each other’s clothes off. You’re like little kids at the playground.”
“Am not.” I pout, glaring at the two jerks in front of me.
Then I glare harder when they start to laugh.
“Okay, sure.” Ashleigh looks at Ruby with an expression that says can you believe this girl written across her face. “Way to prove us wrong.”
It’s not easy, but I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at them.
“Fine, whatever. So my grudge is a little childish. Who cares?” I stand up and start pacing. The grilled cheese I happily inhaled is starting to feel like a pile of rocks in my gut. “Obviously we’re into each other sexually, but I still think you saying he cares about me is a little loaded.”
I ignore the way his hand clung to mine when he was talking to Elizabeth and the way she tried to mask her heartbreak when she saw the two of us together. This is just supposed to be fun and wild, a way to fill my time while I’m stuck here. Nothing more.
Not even if it was the best sex of my life . . .
“This is why I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Ruby finally picks up her sandwich and takes another bite. “You’re still so stuck in the past that you can’t see this clearly. I have my theories about what went down between the two of you in school, but I really think you need answers before you two can have any kind of relationship outside of being HOA weirdos.”
“One, you’re rude.” It’s meant as an insult, but she glows like I complimented her. “Two, and I will only tell you both this if you promise not to freak out.” I pause and lift my pinkies in the air. They link theirs with mine and we perform the sacred ceremony that is the pinky swear. “Nate invited me over again tonight. I wasn’t going to go, but now I don’t know. Do you think I should go?”
When I went over to his house it was under the premise that it could be a one-and-done. But that was before I knew about the picture. Before Elizabeth showed up. Before I admitted to myself that there’s a possibility I might—deep down—be harboring some not totally negative feelings toward him.
“You’re going,” Ashleigh says without missing a beat.
“Yeah, duh.” Ruby rolls her big blue eyes. “I don’t even understand why you’d frame this as a question.”
I don’t know why I expected them to at least pretend to contemplate their answers. I wasn’t even planning on sharing this little tidbit of information. I really only told them because I’m starting to realize that being up front with them saves me a lot of time and energy in the long run. Plus, maybe they’re right and I do need answers.
It’s terrible, but the hard truth is that I do have a heart and feelings. And since I am nearing thirty, it might finally be time to start acknowledging my hurt instead of pretending it never happened.
Leave it to Ruby and Ashleigh to completely flip my life upside down.
“Fine,” I grumble and sit back down. “But if I’m going to go looking for answers, then I’m going to probably need another panini.”
Some people go for liquid courage, but I find courage in carbs and cheese.
To each their own.
Ashleigh fires up the panini maker and I pull out all the cheese from the fridge. The conversation moves away from me and we try to come up with ways for Ashleigh to unload her legging inventory. This might not have been how I expected my day to go, but I wouldn’t change a minute of it.
Somehow, nestled in this small Ohio suburb, I’m figuring out exactly what it means to be happy and feel loved.
Who would’ve thought?
Chapter 22
After paninis and an impromptu leggings fashion show—Ruby ended up buying four pairs, by the way—I head home with a full belly and an even fuller brain.
“Collins?” my mom shouts from somewhere in the house as soon as I walk in. “Is that you?”
I kick off my shoes and hang my purse on the hook next to the door. “Nope, it’s a burglar.”
With the way she refuses to ever lock the front door, I very well could be. I’ve sent her approximately a hundred true crime articles emphasizing the importance of locking your door and not making yourself an easy target, but she always laughs off my worries instead.