Page 59 of A Totally Platonic Thing
I threw my phone again, but not out the window. Lucas might call me.
Oh, my God, I was so incredibly, totally pathetic. And I’d started to wonder if my optimism had outstripped reality. Had I misunderstood what Lucas had said about our updated relationship? I’d thought “We’ll see where this goes” meant “We’re together, but we’re not going to go ring shopping.” But Lucas’s behavior seemed to be tending more toward “We’re casually fucking and maybe I’ll decide I want to actually date you.”
And that made a lot more sense in the context of a guy who’d been gold-star straight until very, very recently.
Of course, that didn’t seem like Lucas. And it really, truly wasn’t what I’d gotten out of our post-coital talk.
But that had been, admittedly, a post-coital talk. No one made any sense after they came their brains out. My memory might be spotty, or skewed by how much I hoped for a future with him. I did remember he’d promised not to basically ghost me again, and this felt a lot the same. He had a good reason this time. I had to keep reminding myself of that.
I spent Saturday night alone and woke up early on Sunday morning, too wired and miserable to sleep.
Somehow I’d slept through Lucas texting me around two in the morning.
Crashing at Amanda’s for a few hours. We’re going back later. Hopefully will be home for a few hours very late Sunday night/Mon morn. No worries about coffee. Sleep in. :) We’ll stop on the way back. Miss you.
Miss you. That brought a smile to my face, but it didn’t quite erase the sting of the turned-down coffee offer. At least I didn’t have to fret about Lucas not being safe driving, or not sleeping at all, since he’d been sleeping on Amanda’s couch. It made sense; she and her boyfriend had an apartment two blocks from campus, and they wouldn’t even have had to drive there.
And again, she lived with her boyfriend. So no worries there. Not like I didn’t trust Lucas and Amanda, but still.
So I wasn’t worried. Iwasn’t, and I knew Lucas cared more about me than just for sex…but sometimes guys did that. They liked someone a lot, but then they fucked that someone, and then they lost interest, or they wanted to end the sex part and that turned them off the whole person, or…shit. I’d had that happen to me more than once.
Shit, shit, shit, I had to get out of my head.
I went downtown and splurged on expensive coffee from this upscale café where the baristas all looked like supermodels—even the girls there made me double-take, and I’d never so much as kissed a female person—and then splurged again on new dark-wash skinny jeans at the boutique next door.
That helped a lot, because they made my ass look freaking amazing.
Downtown Santa Rafaela had a lot of charm, what with the brightly painted tiles stuck to terracotta tiles all over walls and around windows and even on the trash cans, and the flowers planted everywhere, but after a while it got depressing, even though I tried to stroll and enjoy it. Too many couples holding hands.
Also, too many pigeons.
And I could swear some of the pigeons were flirting with each other too, the little bastards.
I spent the rest of Sunday afternoon moping around the apartment and doing pretend-productive shit like scrubbing the kitchen sink, which had already been pretty clean, and making notes on a few poems I knew backward and forward anyway.
But that only got me so far, and by the time the sun went down I felt like I might crawl out of my skin.
I texted Lucas to check in.
He didn’t reply.
I waited, and finally I sent another text.
Hestilldidn’t reply.
When my phone dinged at last twenty minutes later, I went for it like a feral animal, snatching it up and pressing the buttons like crazy.
But it wasn’t Lucas. Mason, one of my Aeon friends, had texted me to tell me they were celebrating Josh’s birthday a few days early at gay night, and to be there or they’d have to call the police for a wellness check.
My heart leapt and then abruptly sank. Shit. Of course I wanted to go, but I’d sworn off clubbing, right? Because I shouldn’t spend the money (and doubly shouldn’t after my afternoon of retail therapy), because I needed to focus on my classes, because I didn’t want to hook up with anyone anyway…and because I’d promised Lucas.
But God, a night of seeing some friends and laughing and dancing sounded, like, freakingamazing. Exactly what the doctor ordered. It was Josh’s birthday! Not showing up would be so rude. I’d gotten caught up on my schoolwork. Lucas wouldn’t even be home until super, super late, right? I’d be back before then. And if he did come home earlier, he’d call or text me and I’d give the birthday boy a hug and head home too.
I mean, I’d promised him I wouldn’t fuck up, not that I’d stay home twenty-four seven and live like a monk or something.
Besides, I had new jeans. I wanted to show them off. They’d look so incredible when I shook my ass on the dance floor. I’d have a couple of drinks and also shake off this shitty mood. If I sat here feeling lonely, I’d only be a bitch when Lucas got back, and he didn’t deserve that. It’d be better for both of us if I went out for a while. I’d come home by midnight, just like Cinderella, and then head to school in the morning totally fine as long as I had my sunglasses and a large latte.
I put on some music and got ready to go, dancing around and trying to cheer myself up. Damn, did those jeans look good. Totally worth the price tag, which I wouldn’t look at again because that might introduce unreasonable doubt. By the time I got in the car, I felt a lot better about life. I’d have some fun, and the rest of the week would be smooth sailing. And since I’d taken my car, I’d need to stay relatively sober. I ignored the little worried voice in the back of my head telling me that hadn’t always worked out in the past, because this time I wouldn’t even open a tab, and I’d make sure I didn’t have more than three glasses of wine between now and eleven, when I’d stop and drink water for an hour before I drove home.
