Page 11 of Lost Love Found

“Uh… gotta go, Mae. Be right back!” I slip out of the car, and I know she won’t follow because someone would recognize her. I really like my anonymity. I don’t know how she does this every day, not being able to go out. I would hate it.

* * *

Half an hour later, Dr. Blau gives me the green light. Everything looks good and we’ll have some follow-up appointments, but the discomfort should ease up really soon and I can look at my phone now. Hooray. I’m sure no one but my mom has texted or called, but I take my phone out of my purse before I walk out of the office anyway and freeze. There is a text from my mom. “Happy New Year, sweetie! Xo” But. BUT. There’s also a text from Adam. He sent it at 11:17 this morning.

ADAM

Hey Tornerose. How did it go with the doc this morning?

Tornerose? Again? My eyes linger on his text as I read it again, and my stomach flutters like a thousand butterflies are taking off inside me. I can feel the heat in my cheeks and my pulse thumping in my ears.

No no no no. Stop that. Friend. We are friend-zoning him as of right this second.

Hi. Just left - I slept in and Maeve changed my appointment. All good!

Thanks again for everything.

Before I even lock my phone, I see the three little dots appear. Then they stop and I feel… disappointment? Ugh. Get over it already. And then they’re back!

ADAM

Lainey. Please stop thanking me. I’m glad I was where I was last night.

Can I call you tonight?

He’s nice. Really nice.

My heart rate skyrockets as I read the last message, and my hands shake so hard I almost drop my phone. I can’t remember the last time I had a proper phone conversation with someone who wasn't my mom, Maeve, or a colleague. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to focus on the task at hand and carefully tap out a response with trembling fingers.

I’d like that.

He wastes no time responding and my heart wastes no time trying to beat right out of my body.

ADAM

Good. Call you around 8.

Good. Good? Good. Is this good? He’s just a friend. My nerves must be regular friendly nerves because I haven’t really taken the time to make any new friends since… well, since Maeve. And Charlie, of course. And definitely no male friends. I can safely say I don’t have any of those other than Rafael, but he doesn’t count. We watch soccer together and we’ve had no tension because Owen would kill him. Dead. On the spot.

Before I can elaborate any further on my mental rant about male friends, Adam, and my social life as a whole, I feel my phone vibrate again. It’s Maeve.

MAEVE

I can see you, you know? And I can hear your brain wheels turning from here.

What’s happening? Get out here!

I open the door and stick my tongue out at her as I walk back towards the car. When I get in, I don’t elaborate or mention Adam’s texts, though. Not yet.

* * *

Gary drops me off at my place after I reassure Maeve that I’ll be fine on my own and the hours trickle by like a slow drip on a leaky faucet. I struggle to think about anything but the time all day because 8 o’clock is coming and I’ll get to hear his voice again.

It's 7:53 and I've just opened the fridge door, reaching for the can of Coke, about to pour it into a glass. My phone is now blaring its ringtone from across the room. I curse under my breath, quickly put down the can, and race to the couch. I had been checking my phone obsessively for the past 10 minutes, each time toying with calling him first or sending a text or checking my email or Twitter. Now I’m running so I don’t miss the call.

“Hello?” I'm out of breath. Not from running 20 feet from the kitchen, but from the sheer anticipation of this moment.

“Are you alright? Why are you out of breath?” He sounds genuinely concerned, as if I’m in any actual danger.

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