Page 81 of The Unraveling

“I texted you,” he says.

“Did you?”

I look at my phone. He did indeed text me. My phone was still on Do Not Disturb from the show tonight. He only texted a few minutes ago, but that might have at least given me a chance to get myself slightly more presentable. I would have seen it if I hadn’t been paralyzed with indecision about Jordan.

“Um—one second, I’ll be right back,” I say, walking quickly sideways so he doesn’t see my face.

“I can come back,” he says. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have come, I—”

“No, no! Just wait one second.”

I run into the bedroom where I’ve been staying.

I feel suddenly very exposed. Not just because of the mud mask and my ugly pajamas. But because the place isn’t tidy. It’s Saturday night, so I was taking it easy.

This is all made worse by the fact that shutting the bedroom door on him feels wrong considering that it’s actually his house. I look too comfortable.

I wash off my face. It’s the kind of mask that dries to a hard, cracking shell, so my face is all red and splotchy beneath it.

I redo my hair to look a little more collected, and then stand in front of my closet. Do I change? If I put on something else, won’t I look like I’m trying too hard?

“I can really go,” he says from the other room.

Fuck it, I decide, no time to change.

I leave the bedroom and see that there’s a big brown bag on the counter and that he’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, as if he’s never been here before.

“I’m sorry about that,” I say. “I didn’t know you were coming or I would have—”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I’ll call next time, make sure I get you before I just waltz in. I feel like a prick. I thought the doorman told you I’d be stopping by. Did he not?”

“He did not. But seriously, you’re fine!” I say. The truth is, I’m happy for the company, even though I wish I looked better. “Come over whenever. Obviously.”

He smiles awkwardly and I don’t know what to say, so I just smile back.

At the same time as he says, “I brought dinner,” I say, “Is that food?”

“I was at the show tonight,” he says. “I took a colleague. He’s considering becoming a donor himself. I caught up with Charlie afterward, and he told me the good news.”

“Good news?” I’m so flustered by all this that I momentarily forget. “Oh, the role?”

“Yes. It’s good. I’m glad to see you’re rising through the ranks as promised already.”

I blush a little. “I’m trying.”

“It wasn’t until I was out of the show that I received a text from one of my employees telling me that they had been detained by the bad weather and hadn’t been able to drop off your dinner. So I stopped off and picked something up.”

“Really?” I say, genuinely surprised. “That’s so nice of you. You don’t need to be providing me with dinner at all. I was just going to order something.”

“If you don’t like the food, then—”

“No, it’s great!” I say, scrambling. “It’s delicious, it’s not that. It’s just that you’re being—well, you’re really going above and beyond, that’s all.”

“You’re a priority and I’m not going to lie, it’s refreshing to be around you.”

I can’t hold his gaze, so I look down at the floor, noticing that my pedicure has rubbed off of two of my toes. It’s almost impossible to keep the polish on when dancing.

“It’s ramen,” he says, walking over to the bag. “I was in meetings all day, so I picked up something for myself as well. I hope that’s all right.”

---