Page 29 of Yours, Unexpectedly

I spin the chair around and sit down. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I gave him a bunch of made up shit about how Gabe will freak, but I know he’d be fine eventually. I also brought up the fact that he’s, well, sort of my teacher but he said he’s working on that—whatever the hell that means—and if I really boil it down, I think I’m just scared. When Jack broke up with me… that fucking hurt. But I know it would be nothing compared to how I would feel if Anders and I got together and it didn’t work out.”

What I never told anyone was that my last boyfriend, really my only boyfriend, Jack, and I broke up because his feelings were a lot stronger than mine. We got together shortly after I started at Hawthorne, and, in hindsight I was still hung up on Anders. Anders, however, had just graduated and moved to New York City so I knew I needed to get over him. Jack and I met when I accidentally rear ended his car outside of our freshman dorm, what could have potentially been an adorable meet-cute.

On paper, Jack was perfect. My friends loved him, my family loved him. I loved him… kind of. There was never that elusive spark. I figured something was wrong with me, so I just kept at it. Things were fine. He was sweet and funny. It had to be my problem that I never wanted to jump his bones or argue with him about the perfect amount of milk in your cereal.

There was no passion.

At the time, I was so convinced that that was the only way I’d ever be able to love anyone, that I made it work. After about a year, Jack realized he was never going to get all of my heart and he… changed. He became controlling and irrational. He’d have these outbursts and then leave me to wonder if I was imagining the whole thing. His tone became sharp and his kisses punishing. Eventually, Jack came to the conclusion that I would never really be his and he left.

I was devastated. Not because I lost him, but because I was so sure that my fate had been sealed and no one would ever really see me.

No one would ever really know me.

“What if it does work out?” Luci asks, reaching up to wipe a tear that I didn’t realize had leaked out.

I let myself imagine it for a second.

Anders taking me on a date, holding my hand. Kissing my forehead.

Anders waking up next to me, rolling out of bed to grab coffee.

Anders cuddled up on the couch, studying lines as I read a book.

It seems utterly perfect.

“I want that so badly,” I say as a small sob escapes me. “I really, really do.”

Riz chuckles lightly. “Then go get your man, Bex!”

I jump up from my seat, apparently only needing a tiny amount of encouragement to do this thing.

“Well, maybe not right this second.” Luci pulls me back down into my chair. “It is…” She checks the microwave clock. “Midnight. Seems like getting your man is a tomorrow thing. Sleep on it. He’ll still be waiting for you, I guarantee it.”

When I finally get in bed that night, excitement courses through me. I allow myself to feel hope for the first time in a long time.

And damn, it feels nice.

“Ten minutes to curtain.”

“Ten. Thank you, ten!” echoes around me as I try to catch a glimpse of the audience from backstage. I don’t know why I still hold out hope that they’ll come because they never do.

After another encounter with Bex that did not go the way I wanted it to, I’m trying to wrap my mind around what being friends with her looks like. We’ve avoided each other for so long and I was ready to dive in. She’s not. And I’m going to respect her wishes, even if I don’t agree with them.

I also know there are a lot of things Bex still doesn’t know about me. Things I’m scared to share with her. The reason I failed in New York. Why I ended up back at Hawthorne. There’s a part of me that worries that I’m not good enough for her, that I’ll always be letting her down somehow.

My father let me know from a young age how good I was at letting people down. And that shit sticks with you, no matter how much therapy you’ve had.

A knock at the door shakes me out of my thoughts. In my daze, I had forgotten my friend Cassie is coming over to work on a song we are doing for our MFA showcase.

“Come in,” I yell from the kitchen.

“You know… it’s not safe to keep your door unlocked. You never know who might just waltz in.”

I freeze because that is definitely not Cassie’s voice. But I won’t believe it until I see it, so I round the corner and find—

“Bex,” I breathe.

Her hand comes up in a tentative wave. “Hi.”

---