“I don’t buy that, though,” she continues. “I think it’s more about the right person. That’s why you see those guys who date a woman for eight years without proposing. She issues an ultimatum, he refuses to pull the trigger, and they break up. Then the guy turns around and immediately gets engaged to his next girlfriend two months later. Timing has little, if anything, to do with it. When you meet The One, you won’t let them get away for anything.”
A memory tugs at my heart filled with bittersweet nostalgia. I swallow hard as I fidget with the cuff of my pink sweatshirt, fighting the wave of sadness creeping in. There’s no question that my parents were each other’s Ones. Even ten years into marriage, I remember how they slow danced in the kitchen, sneaking kisses while my brother and I rolled our eyes. My father brought flowers every time he got back from being on the road; a dozen roses for her and a single pink one for me. He always looked at her like she was the only woman in the room; in the entire universe, even.
I’m not sure everyone gets to have that kind of love, though. Sometimes I think I’m too much to be someone’s One. Too loud, too disorganized, too extra, too messy.
Bailey winces, twirling a lock of honey-blond hair around her finger. “I don’t know… That seems a little harsh to the first woman in that scenario, don’t you think?”
“Your relationship is walking proof of what I’m saying,” Siobhan counters, scooping up a piece of broccoli from her carton. “Chase’s taxi light wasn’t on when you met.”
“Shiv has a point.” Until recently, I wasn’t convinced my brother even had a taxi light.
“Maybe so, but I think it’s more complicated than that sometimes. Circumstances can count for a lot and they’re not always surmountable. You were a little gun-shy with Dallas at first, remember?”
“Then I came to my senses because I knew I couldn’t lose him. All I’m saying is, the light turns on for the right person.”
As someone who considers her light to be firmly switched off, I wonder if that’s true.
We settle in with the rest of our food and start the first movie, chatting idly during the slow spots. Ironically, it’s a romcom about the hero and heroine finding their way back to one another after a series of missed chances. This sparks a debate between us about whether it’s an example of the Taxi Light Theory or the opposite phenomenon.
I’m on the fence. Partly because I’ve seen several friends accept bargain basement behavior because he “wasn’t ready” or “was focusing on school.” And for what? A dude who sleeps on a bare mattress and uses a ratty old towel for curtains? My father treated my mother like a queen. I’m not about to drop my standards for some guy named Tripp who can’t be bothered to change an empty toilet paper roll.
That’s why I’m inclined to think Siobhan is right; if those guys had been invested enough, they would’ve stepped up their game. But putting all your faith in the concept of The One has its downsides too. What if you find them and you screw it up? Deep down, I think this might scare me more than the possibility of never finding them at all.
Now switched to silent, my phone lights up with another text. I unlock it expecting it to be from Abby again, and my heart skips a beat when I read it.
555-257-9909: It’s Tyler. Chase gave me your number and said we should swap in case of emergency. So now you have mine too.
Sera: Only in case of emergency?
555-257-9909: Or just because.
My breaths turn shallow as I stare at the screen, trying to parse the meaning behind his words. I’m either reading too much into it, or not enough. There is no in between.
CHAPTER 9
21 QUESTIONS
TYLER
Tinker Bell: For clarity’s sake… what kinds of texts qualify as ‘just because’ texts?
Tinker Bell: Knock-knock jokes, maybe? Riddles? Or did you have something else in mind?
Dallas glances down at my screen. “Who the fuck is Tinker Bell?”
My phone slips from my hand in surprise, striking my kneecap before it lands on the floor. Motherfucker, that hurts. Wincing, I grab my throbbing knee as I look around for Chase, trying to gauge whether he heard. Relief washes over me when I spot him on the opposite side of the hotel room, immersed in a conversation with Reid and one of the other guys from the team.
“Just a chick.” I quickly snatch my cell off the geometric-patterned carpet. Time to turn off my previews in case this conversation takes a more incriminating turn. Better safe than sorry.
When I straighten in my seat, Dallas is staring at me like I’m unhinged. “You okay, buddy?”
“Yeah. I’m good.” A thrill runs through my body as I look down at Sera’s message again. The only replies that come to mind are downright filthy, and while her tone seems flirty, it’s hard to know for sure via text. I don’t want to overshoot and come off as a creep.
Me: How about 21 questions? You start.
Tinker Bell: Okay. Let me think…
Tinker Bell: Question 1: How would you be useful in a zombie apocalypse?
I stifle a laugh. It’s not what I expected, but I’m not mad at it.
Hades: I’m good with a stick, which means I’d be excellent at decapitating the undead.
Tinker Bell: Plus, your goalie gear would help protect you from their bites.
Hades: That too.
“Just a chick, huh?” Dallas interrupts. I look up to find him studying me with a shit-eating grin across his face. “Is that why you’re smiling like a fool?”
“Go call your girlfriend, Ward. Write her a poem or some shit.” I flip him the bird and turn my back to him, returning my attention to our conversation.
Hade: Question 2: Large city, small town, or countryside?
Tinker Bell: Who do you think you’re talking to, Hades? City girl all the way.
Hades: That tracks. City for me as well.
Tinker Bell: Question 3: Would you rather give or receive a gift?
Hades: Give, for sure.
Tinker Bell: Receive, obviously. princess emoji
Receive, huh? There are lots of things I’d like to give her, starting with… My cock perks up, my hand tightening around the phone. Then I glance around the room and remember where I am—as well as who I’m with. I shouldn’t be texting Sera in the first place, and I definitely shouldn’t be picturing the filthy things I am right now.
Giving my head a shake, I force my mind out of the gutter.
Hades: Question 4: How much pink is too much pink?
Tinker Bell: The limit does not exist.
At her response, my mouth pulls into another goofy grin. I’m not a big texter, especially back and forth. Normally, I’d have written some half-assed reply and put my phone away for the night. Then again, normally I wouldn’t have left the communication door open with my “just because” text in the first place.
Hades: I’m not so sure about that. Think I’m gonna have to draw the line at a pink car.
Tinker Bell: No way. Look up the Porsche Taycan in Frozen Berry Metallic and tell me it isn’t amazing.
Hades: Fair enough. That’s pretty sick.
Tinker Bell: #goals
Tinker Bell: Question 5: Most recent picture in your camera roll?
Hades: image.jpg
It’s a full-length shot of my left sleeve after it was touched up last week. Not overly recent, but it’s the newest picture I have. In addition to not texting much, I don’t take many photos. With my schedule, what would they even be of? The inside of the dressing room?