Translation?
Paperwork. Marriage is boring!
Haha. Well, have fun with that. Call me later.
Bet your sweet ass I will.
I’m patting myself on the back for more character growth. Instead of getting worked up over Dylan living his life, I’m respecting it. He’s not ghosting or being weird. His priorities have shifted, and that’s part of growing up. My best friend can’t be around twenty-four/seven anymore. But I trust that when we do catch up, he’ll be unhelpful and flirty for an hour and then come through with something wise before bringing up my sweet ass again.
It’s too weird to bring up Arthur’s confession to Mario. I will, but not yet.
I’m scrolling through my phone contacts, hoping someone can help me wrap my head around all this. Everything is changing, and I don’t want to have any regrets.
I stop at someone’s name.
This feels crazy, but.
I’m going to ask my first ex-boyfriend for love advice.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Arthur
Thursday, July 9
It’s been thirty-nine hours since my shitshow of a love confession, and not a word from Ben. Which is entirely fine and not at all panic-inducing, other than the fact that I’ve been checking my phone every ten seconds for two days straight, because evidently my brain thinks Ben might slide in with an I love you too text at nine-thirty a.m. on a Thursday.
“You know what?” Jacob surveys the stage, fist tucked thoughtfully under his chin. “Can we get more of a build here on Addie for the monologue?”
The light brightens slowly on Amelia’s face.
“Okay, nice.” He pauses. “Hey, can I get some quick photos from the back of the house? I want to see how this reads.”
“On it.” Taj pats my shoulder, and both of us stand, yet again—let’s just say Jacob has no qualms about last-minute lighting cue changes. I snap a few pictures and almost forget to text them to Jacob, because I’m too busy checking my phone settings again. Just to make sure I’m not accidentally on Do Not Disturb.
I would very much like to be disturbed by Ben Alejo.
It’s really the silence that’s unbearable—even a straight-up rejection would be better. I just wish he’d say something. Though maybe the silence is the something, because what else could it mean other than Ben not loving me back? It’s not a job application. He’s not out there calling my references and weighing out my pros and cons. Loving someone isn’t an informed decision. It just is. You just do.
Or, in Ben’s case, you don’t.
All I can do is plod through my longest-ever workday. Even if everything runs on time, dress rehearsal won’t be over until eight thirty tonight. And thanks to the scheduling glitch, we have to strike the set right after and bring everything back to the studio for a week. It kind of makes me wonder why Jacob’s bothering with a full dress rehearsal in the first place. So much effort and care poured into this thing that ends almost as soon as it starts.
I check my texts again. Nothing.
Pretty sure it’s time for someone to take this phone away from me and bury it. Way past time. Pretty sure the right time was when my mom texted me a picture of my aunt’s new puppy this morning and I cried, because apparently I’ve reached the fuck-you-puppy-you’re-not-Ben stage of heartbreak.
Forty hours and counting. I think I might be losing my mind. Did my big rom-com confession even happen? Did I dream it? Is Ben trying to make me think I dreamed it? He’s just never going to mention it, is he? Is that even allowed? Who would do that?
Something stops short in my brain.
Me. I would do that. In fact, it’s exactly what I fucking did.
Three weeks. I went three weeks without giving Mikey an answer, and when I finally did, I was a wishy-washy asshole about it. And then he took a train to New York, grabbed a mic, and put his heart on the line in front of a roomful of strangers. At which point I promptly stomped all over it and never once looked back.
“So, let me know,” Taj says brightly.
I look up. “Sorry—what?”
“Starbucks? Full offense, you look like you could use it. Mocha frappe with extra whipped cream, right? What size?”
“Tall, I guess?”
“Let’s go with venti,” he says. “Just in case Jacob decides to change all the sound cues, too.”
“Oh God. Why?”
“Because he’s Jacob?” Taj shrugs. “You’ll get used to it, though. Trust me, by next summer, you’ll be anticipating his every move.”