And I did. Because I was so embarrassed I wanted to die on the spot.
So much for feeling sexy. I dressed to kill last night, wearing my cutest outfit, ready to show him I was worth paying attention to. And he did, all right. Until he apparently came to his senses and decided I wasn’t what he wanted.
Was I that bad a kisser? I’ve never had complaints before…
And he did seem into it, at first anyway.
I groan again. My life officially sucks.
My cell phone rings. Despite the slight heave in my stomach, I reach my hand out of the blanket and grab it, then check the caller ID. It’s Michaela. The one person who could possibly pull me out of this funk.
Michaela knows me well. Knows everything—the bad and the good about my life and what I’ve been through. I can trust her, and that’s about as rare as it gets in my world right now.
A wave of sheer missing her almost overwhelms me as I answer. “Oh my God, how did you know I needed you right now?” I ask.
“Because I’m psychic, you crazy bitch,” she declares. “How are you doing? You were supposed to call me last night and I didn’t hear from you. I thought you were dead in a ditch or you fell in a well.”
“I only wish that had happened.” Fuck, I hadn’t necessarily meant to say that, but some stupid part of me must want to purge this off my chest. Damn my big mouth.
“Don’t talk like that.”
“It’s not actually that bad,” I admit. “Just vaguely humiliating.”
Michaela’s curiosity is piqued, and once she gets on a scent, there’s no detracting her. “Go on. Tell mama everything.”
Reluctantly, I spill the beans. I talk about meeting Smith my first night, the creeper who hit on me, how Smith punched him, and then our kiss and his rejection. I end with, “And now I’m hung over and feeling like a total moron.”
“Wow.” I can hear the awe in her voice. “When you start over, you really start over.”
“Come on now.”
“No, seriously. I’m so fucking proud of you I could puke. I was afraid that Roger had scared you into never trying again, but here you are, going out there and meeting new people. Do you realize how amazing you are?”
My eyes burn, and I blink back tears. “Oh, shush.”
“You shush, bitch.” But I hear the love in her voice, and I know she’s happy for me. “I’m sure you’re embarrassed, because I know you, but you shouldn’t be. You went out and had a little fun—don’t make it into such a big thing.”
I want to do as she says, but the burn of rejection I feel so strongly still aches my chest. “He told me to go home and sleep it off.”
She laughs “Sounds kind of funny. Were you that drunk?”
“I guess. I don’t know.” I sigh, confused about whether I’ve read too much into the entire thing. It was a flirty, drunken hookup and he was smart enough to admit as much. He probably kisses women like that on a daily basis.
I can’t let myself obsess over it or him any further.
“Are you going to try and see him again?”
My chest sinks. “I doubt it.” I shake my head and do my best to put him out of my mind—which is nearly impossible. “Anyway, tell me everything I’ve missed at work since I’ve been gone.”
Michaela laughs. “Oh shit, you have no idea. Things have been insane this week.”
She and I met at the nursing home we worked at. Michaela was the one who oriented me to life around old people, how to stay on top of the surprising chaos and manage their stubbornness so I could get my job done. Without her help, I never would have got the expertise and confidence to apply for a job at the nursing home in Rock Bridge…and get the job.
Michaela fills me in on the shenanigans that have happened, how Mr. Carter decided he hates pants and refuses to wear them. And Mrs. Carter, his long-suffering wife, keeps begging the nursing staff to help her manage her husband’s nakedness during group activities.
The stories make me laugh and ease the heaviness in my chest. A pang of homesickness hits me. “That’s so funny,” I tell her.
Michaela sighs. “I miss you. You sure this is what you want to do? You know we’d take you back in a heartbeat.”
“I know.” My lungs tighten. “But as long as he’s there, I can’t.”
Michaela is the only person who knew in advance about my escape plan. I hadn’t even told my mom or dad, because they both have soft spots for Roger, not knowing the real him. I was afraid of them spilling the beans to him, and while it hurt that I couldn’t trust them with the truth, I had to do what would protect me.
I still haven’t called them. I’m not even sure they know I’m out of state. But I can’t worry about that right now.
“I selfishly miss you,” she says. “But I’m so ridiculously glad you got yourself out of that situation. Roger’s a psycho asshole. You deserve so much better than him. Maybe this hottie bartender dude will work out.”