Page 43 of Not Your Basic Love Story

Before I could undo what I had just done, Graham had already replied. ‘great! meet u saturday at starbucks at 7, the one by ur place.’

I stared at my phone, panic rising in my chest. My fingers hovered numb over the screen.

Grant messaged again. ‘this really means a lot to me. Can't wait to see you.’

I knew I should reply back immediately that I’d made a mistake, that the text had been for someone else, that I was seeing a guy and it was serious, that he could go fuck himself, as Angelina had put it.

…but another part of me wanted to see him, too.

I texted Angelina, hesitant. ‘don’t tell ur sister but Graham wants to meet next weekend to talk or something.’

Angelina: ‘wtf? y??? ur not going, r u?’

Why, indeed. That, my dear, is the question of life, is it not? Unsure of my motives, I pressed on with what sounded most realistic. ‘I just need closure.’

It wasn’t an outright lie, since so many questions had been left unanswered. Where had we gone wrong? What could I do differently? Maybe this could be a good thing. I’d talk to Graham, get the answers to my questions, and then be able to move on with Dev, having learned what had gone awry with my last relationship. It was a learning opportunity. That’s all it would be—just one coffee and an explanation. He owed me that much.

Angelina: ‘mood. don’t do anything stupid’

There was zero chance ofthathappening. I rubbed my temple against a headache beginning to form and drank the last of the wine in my glass, suddenly remembering how early I’d have to be up the next day. It had been a long weekend, which was a much-needed respite from my job. It would be the Mondayest Tuesday ever.

I used to like my job. I used to look forward to going in there, seeing all the guys, chatting with them about their weekend. Usually, the projects we worked on were at least mildly interesting. But now, the thought of going in there and sitting down at my desk and writing up the code to program the machines made me want to call in sick. You can only do the same thing for so long, day after day, before it grinds on you.

While tidying, my eyes wandered to the corner where my failed downspout turbine sat on the floor. Part of me wished it wasn’t there. Not only was it a reminder of coming in second at the science fair, my brother’s impossibly huge shadow, and of failing my exams twice, but it was also a reminder of why I’d gone into engineering in the first place. I wanted to change the world, not churn out cheap plastic parts that were likely going to end up in a landfill.

An idea struck me.

Getting up, I dug out my old MacBook from my closet and plugged it in. In the bottom corner of my closet was also a box of old papers and textbooks, which I pulled out, too. One of them had a module on electrical engineering that might be helpful. I flipped it open and began reading, memories of my college days wafting up along with the dust of my neglected books.

If I could get the turbine to work, maybe it would hold a solution to all of this. I could be the next contract at work. I could hire the team to build models, maybe get them working on some buildings downtown to collect data. Instead of dreading going to work, I’d be eager to go there. I’d be able to move up into a management position without re-taking that awful exam.

It seemed like a far-fetched pipe dream. But I had to do something.

After studying for a while, I checked the time and then left the books and charging computer next to the turbine to get ready for bed. I was still mulling over the project when my phone rang.

Dev.Shit!I hadn’t texted him back.

“Hey babe!” I answered, a little too perky. Rein it in.

“Hey,” he said. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, why?” My heart was pounding and my chest felt hot, guilt washing over me as I recalled my brief texting conversation with my ex.Tell him about Graham. Just tell him. Why aren’t you telling him?

“You didn’t text me back. We still on for next weekend?”

“Yes, next weekend should be good. Um, can we make it for Friday night? I have plans for spin class with Miranda on Saturday.”

And now I was lying! I nearly facepalmed myself.

“Friday would be perfect. They’re excited to meet you. I told my mom not to make anything too spicy.”

I forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound fake. “That is probably for the best.”

He paused for a moment and I held my breath.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I mean, is everything okay with you?”

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