I clutch his jersey to my chest and step into my apartment to find a note from my landlord, reminding me that my rent was due today. I sigh and drop onto the couch.
I look at his shirt then I go dump it in the washer and go have a bite to eat.
Forty minutes later, I switch it to the drier and feel myself smile as I watch his shirt go round and round.
*
Wynn arrives soon and we’re watching Tequila Sunrise but I can’t really focus on the movie because my mind keeps returning to Tahoe. There is so much more to Tahoe Roth than meets the eye and I’m pretty certain not a lot of people get to know the man on a deep level. Seeing his passion for lacrosse only brought to the surface my own excitement about it, and I’m stunned that he can have such a powerful effect on me. I keep wondering what he’s doing now as I watch the movie on my bed with Wynn and pretend I’m really paying attention to Michelle Pfeiffer and Mel Gibson.
Wynn puts the movie on pause. “Gina, you’re way too quiet and I’m the only one eating popcorn. Maybe you haven’t noticed but I have.” She eyes me probingly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I look at her. I was ready for bed by the time she arrived. I’d already taken Tahoe’s shirt out of the drier and shoved it under my bed skirt because I simply didn’t want questions that I didn’t have the answers to.
So I give her a chiding frown, as if it’s all in her head, and say, “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Isn’t there? How are you and Trent?”
“We’re good.”
“You’re lost in outer space and you’re smiling when there’s nothing funny happening in the movie. You think I don’t notice? What’s up?” She narrows her eyes. “You’re also wearing less makeup. You look so good! And so sweet! What’s up with that little change? Are you in love?”
My eyes flare wide at that. “No! Wynn…Trent and I are dating. We’re getting to know each other still.”
I start laughing out of pure nervousness because I’m not ready to fall in love. It’s too soon to fall in love. I’m too wary and distrustful of love.
“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully, a sly little grin on her lips. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it, Gina.”
“Thank you,” I say, then grab the remote and press Play.
The TV and one tiny lamp on my side of the bed are the only lights in the room as we continue watching the movie and I continue to find my mind wandering back to the jersey with the double zeroes that lies under my bed skirt.
SPRING BREAK
April arrives with the promise of spring break, and the girls begin making plans.
“Callan’s invited us all to his Miami beach house. Trent too, Gina. We have to make the effort to go, spend time together,” Rachel says over brunch.
“I’d kill for a tan right now.” Wynn looks at her white hands. “And a manicure.”
I’ve been working double shifts at the department store. I’ve also managed to land some steady clients who want their makeup done during the weekends, plus a few gigs at children’s parties where the kids want their faces painted like their favorite animals. It leaves very little time for Trent and me to see each other. Sometimes I only get to see him once or twice a week. Work has also been getting in the way of my usual Thursday date nights with the girls.
So when, this Sunday during brunch, they begin making plans for spring break and tell me we’re all invited with our partners to spend a long weekend at Callan’s Miami house, I’m too work-tired to decline and desperately looking forward to some fun times.
Trent, however, is not that excited about the expense. I convince him to use his airplane miles, but when it turns out he doesn’t have enough miles, I end up using all of my saved credit card miles and splurge on both of our tickets.
I know that his business has put a strain on his finances. I also know that I’m saving for an apartment and can’t afford frivolous spending. But I’m excited about spending time with him out of the city. Between my busy work schedule and his, we don’t spend as much time as we should together. I want to remedy that this spring break.
*
I end up packing last minute on the very same day we leave for Miami. Trent is already at my place, all his stuff packed in a tiny black carry-on duffel. Men. There is no way I can fit all of my things in even a bag double that size.
I rummage through my closet and I hold up a bikini that I got as a birthday present from Rachel two years ago.
“What do you think about me packing this bikini, as well as my one-piece?”
He eyes the bikini thoughtfully, scratches one of his freckles with a sheepish look, and then looks at me. “Are you going to fix your hair?”
“What do you mean? Of course I’m fixing my hair.” I tug the careless ponytail I’m wearing and roll my eyes.