Let me make it up to you. If you’re around tomorrow morning, stop by the coffeehouse and I’ll buy you the real thing. Around 9?
P.S. Shouldn’t you ;)
I sent the message off, and bit at my thumbnail as I awaited her response. I felt like I had when I’d asked Melissa Price to the junior prom. Though, when Lily’s reply came through, it blew Melissa's response out of the water.
See you then.
I exhaled the first deep breath I’d been able to release since this whole email nonsense had started. Sinking back into my chair, I thought about how this felt so . . . right. It was a do-over. And I was sure as fuck going to make sure it went right this time.
Chapter 13: Lily
Coffee. With Adam. Tomorrow morning. Had he just asked me out? Maybe not asked me out in the traditional sense. He’d only said that he would make it up to me by buying me a cup of coffee. That would make us even, right? I’d bought him one. Now he’d buy me one. Just friends having coffee together.
But the thing was, we weren’t friends. I’d never been just friends with Adam.
So what would this be?
A wave of anxiety ran through me that nearly rattled my core. Was Adam giving me a second chance? Did I even deserve one? I’d spent these last seven months rehashing, analyzing, and critiquing what had happened between us. And the only conclusion I could come to was that it had been entirely my fault. I’d been wrong to think that I could resist Max, even though I really had loved Adam.
Because it’s not that simple.
It doesn’t matter that you only love one person. Everyone has urges, sexual desires that, when presented with the opportunity, are difficult to ignore. The key to being faithful is to avoid putting yourself in a situation where you’ll be tempted to act on those desires. It means avoiding drunken nights in clubs while you and your friends dance with hot guys. Because you might just be tempted to kiss one of them. It means leaving happy hour early before you and that co-worker you’ve had a crush on for the past few months are the only ones left and he offers you a ride home. Because you might just take it.
Being faithful isn’t something people are. It’s is an action. It’s a choice. It said so in a Cosmo article I read recently. God, that’s a great fucking magazine.
***
By Friday afternoon, I felt spent. The students had been writing persuasive essays about whether or not they should get paid to go to school. Not surprisingly, most of them said they should. On the Smartboard, I projected an example of how their paper’s heading should look. And though they gave it a genuine effort, when Sam Christianson put the words “Your Name” at the top of his paper instead of his actual name, I briefly lost all faith in America’s future generations. “No, Sam,” I said chuckling, “I just wrote ‘Your Name’ up there so you’d know that your own name goes on the top left. Type ‘Sam Christianson.’”
“Oh, okay,” he said as he changed the font to some large illegible script that I’d already told them they weren’t allowed to use. And when he typed his name all in lowercase letters, I couldn’t help think that a future career as a smut writer looked better and better.
***
As I made my way out of CrossFit a little after eight, I crossed my arms at the bitter chill that stung my cheeks. We’d had some unseasonably warm weather for the past few weeks, but suddenly, in early November, it seemed winter had come early. I cranked up the heat in my car and turned on my headlights as I pulled out of the parking lot. I’d told Tina and Trish that I’d meet them for a few drinks at a nearby bar that had a psychic on Friday nights. I wasn’t too interested in seeing what my own future held though. To be honest, I was a little frightened of psychics. Something about the way their eyes always looked glazed over. But the thought of getting Trish drunk was just too good to pass up.
Unfortunately, when I opened the door to my apartment and saw Amanda gorging herself on a gallon of ice cream, I thought maybe I’d have to take a rain check on my girls’ night. She’d been avoiding Shane for weeks. But instead of getting better, she seemed to be getting worse. I couldn’t stand by and watch her self-destruct while I did nothing. “Why are you already in your pajamas eating an entire carton of ice cream?” I asked, accusation plaguing my tone.