“I gotta pee,” Ryan said when the waitress was gone, digging some bills out of his back pocket. “Then we’ll get out of here?” He was weirdly chipper for somebody who’d been dumped twelve hours ago: by the time she’d woken up this morning he’d already been to Starbucks and back, was announcing plans for Ryan and Gabby’s Super-Sad Breakup Club. “Maybe today’s the day I teach you to ice skate.”
“I know how to ice skate,” Gabby grumbled.
“Sure you do,” Ryan said, grinning at her dubiously across the chipped Formica table. “I’ll be right back.”
Gabby watched him trot across the restaurant, baffled by his apparent ability to move on so quickly. He’d told her he didn’t want to talk about whatever had gone on with Chelsea, and apparently he meant it. Gabby would have pressed him, but he’d also apparently decided to forget about her moment of temporary insanity last night in the hotel room, and she didn’t want to push her luck.
God, Gabby couldn’t believe she’d done that. Remembering it was like touching her hand to a burning hot stove. Sure, she’d been sad and rejected and drunk, but this was Ryan. Some lines weren’t meant to be crossed, no matter how warm and safe and right it had felt to bury her tired face in his neck.
Not like this, he’d said in the moment before he’d pulled away from her. Just for a second, Gabby let herself wonder: like what?
Enough, she thought, picking up her fork and stabbing a cold bite of hash browns. Was she seriously going to let herself sit here entertaining moony Ryan fantasies on top of everything else? Sometimes she still didn’t get why he hung out with her at all, honestly. Sometimes she didn’t get why anyone did.
She was staring out the window at the gray parking lot, well on her way into a spiral of anxiety and self-loathing, when her phone buzzed on the table. She flipped it over, heart stopping for a sliver of a moment: It was Shay. Not texting, even. Calling.
Gabby took a deep breath, hit the green button to answer. “Hi,” she said quietly.
“So, that was terrible, right?”
All at once, Gabby felt like she was going to cry all over again. “Yeah,” she said, swallowing a phlegmy knot in her throat. She’d said enough of a good-bye the night before that Shay knew she hadn’t been murdered, but barely. Mostly, she’d just run away. “That was pretty terrible. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Shay said. “I should have thought more about how weird it would be for you, and overwhelming. We hardly spent any time alone at all.”
Gabby could see Ryan coming back from the bathroom; she caught his eyes and pointed at her phone, then slid out of the booth, dragging her jacket behind her. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to,” she said to Shay as she headed out into the cold gray morning.
“Seriously?” Shay laughed. “No, I wanted to climb you like a tree. I honestly didn’t know Ade was going to be home; she was supposed to be going to some sorority thing.” She sighed. “I wish you hadn’t left.”
“I’m sorry,” Gabby said. “I panicked.”
“It’s okay,” Shay said. “I get why you did. I was drunk, I was being obnoxious. Look,” she continued, “I’ll be home for break in like two weeks. I’ll make it up to you, okay? We’ll spend every day together; we’ll marathon a whole series or something. It’ll be the mellowest thing ever.”
That sounded perfect, actually—it sounded like actual heaven—but for the first time she was embarrassed to admit that to Shay. “I don’t—I don’t want you to feel like I’m holding you back,” Gabby said. Ugh, she always felt so awkward talking on the phone. “Like, if there’s other stuff you’d rather be doing, then—”
“I don’t feel that way,” Shay said immediately. “That’s not how I feel.”
“Are you sure?” Gabby wasn’t convinced. “Because—”
“Gabby-Girl,” Shay said, low and quiet in her ear; Gabby shivered in spite of herself, and it had nothing to do with the cold. It was Shay, after all. It was Shay. “I love you. You’re my favorite person to hang out with. And I should have done a better job of showing you that last night.”
“I’m sorry,” Gabby said again, looking out at the avenue, the SUVs and minivans whizzing by. So things were a little different between them now. That was okay, wasn’t it? She wanted to make it work—needed to, even. An hour of being broken up and she’d thrown herself at Ryan of all people. Clearly she needed all the steadiness she could get. “I’m a weirdo.”
“You’re my weirdo,” Shay assured her. Gabby smiled.
RYAN
By the time Ryan paid the bill and made his way out of the diner, he already knew Gabby and Shay were getting back together. Gabby was slipping her phone into her bag as he approached, her face all pink and pleased-looking. “Fixed, huh?” he asked, aiming for casual as he dug his car keys out of his jacket pocket.
Gabby tilted her head a bit, halfway between a nod and a shake. “I think so? Getting there, at least.” She shrugged as they crossed the parking lot, pulling her hands up into her sleeves. “I’m sorry. I feel stupid that I made you pick me up. And, you know.” She gestured vaguely. “About the rest of it.”
The rest of it. Ryan felt a strange, unfamiliar heat creeping up the back of his neck. He’d been waiting for the right time to bring it up, to tell her . . . whatever it was he was going to tell her.
Apparently, that time was never.
“Already forgot about it, remember?” Ryan made himself grin, turned away as he opened the car door. “Anyway, not like I had anyplace else to be.”
“You really don’t want to talk about what happened with Chelsea?” Gabby asked as she settled into the passenger seat. “What did you guys even fight about, huh?”
“It was stupid,” Ryan said, “like I told you. Nothing worth crying over.”
“Seriously?” Gabby frowned. “You’re supposed to be the open book in this friendship, remember? I’m the one who just spilled her guts all over like a garbage person.”
“Yeah.” Ryan shook his head. He’d fucked things up with Chelsea, he knew that. There was no way to recover. It was like she’d dug out some part of him that he’d fully intended to keep buried for the rest of his days, and for what? He looked at Gabby. This was going nowhere, clearly. He was stupid for imagining that it might have. “Well.”
“Well?” Gabby echoed. “Well, what?”
“Gabby,” he said, more sharply than he meant to. “Let it go, okay?”
Gabby looked surprised. “Okay,” she said. “Sorry.” Then, her voice artificially bright, “Ice skating, then?”
And—yeah. Ryan just did not have it in him. “You know,” he said, “I’m kind of tired. I might just go home and crash.”
Gabby glanced down at her hands, face flushing in a way that made him feel sort of like an asshole. “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Yeah, totally. Of course. I should probably let Michelle know I’m back, anyway. She was cranky about not having anything to do this weekend.”