Page 28 of Sweet Girl
Or maybe I’d only like it if it were Van’s.
“Ky.” Van says my name like it’s a prayer. It’s beautiful in the way that it floats through the airwaves, touching me like a feather across my heart.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I love it when he calls me by my nickname.
“Yeah?”
“I think about you a lot.”
If my body wasn’t amped up before this, it is roaring to life now. My hormones are like piranhas in a feeding frenzy. They are going insane.
“Me, too.”
“When do you come home for Christmas?”
I mentally count down the days. I have two more finals to take and a paper due before Tuesday. Then I’m back home for three weeks. Now I can’t wait. My tummy flip-flops with anticipation.
“I’m back on Tuesday.”
He blows out a long breath. “I leave for Tucson on Thursday.”
My heart boomerangs and then hits a wall, careering to the floor. I’ll only have a few days with him. I can feel the tears of disappointment welling up in my eyes.
“But I’ll only be home for a week. I have to come back for practice right after Christmas.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad. You’ll be back for my birthday.” I don’t know why I let that slip. Why should he care about my stupid birthday? All we ever do is celebrate with our family.
“Really? That’s awesome. You gonna have a party?”
“Probably not. It’s always lame because it’s during the holidays, so Kady and I usually just go to a New Year’s Eve party and call it good. But I’m kind of hoping I get those tickets for the concert I want to see. I hinted to my parents that I wanted to go, but I don’t know if it’ll happen.”
I don’t know if Van remembers or not, but we talked about this back in October. We’d been discussing our musical influences and the type of music we listened to. He said he was into mainstream country, and some hip-hop, but really liked Twenty One Pilots. They are literally my favorite band. I’d mentioned that they had a show planned for the week after Christmas. I’d told him that if I got tickets, he could go with me.
I’d actually been dreaming about the show for months now. I imagine us standing there in a pit full of people, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist, holding me against his tall, hard body as we sway and move to the beat of the music. In my head, it’s romantic and not a love-sick fantasy at all.
In reality, it probably wouldn’t happen.
“That’s right,” he says, the enthusiasm in his voice helping to alleviate my insecurities. “If you do get them, and if the offer is still good, I’d love to go with you.”
I pump my fist in the air. Yes!
“I’d like that. It’d be fun.”
I hear him yawn loudly and realize it’s after one a.m. Crap, I have more studying to do tonight.
“I better let you go, Ky. It was good talking to you.” He pauses for a second, leaving me to wonder if he fell asleep. But then he continues.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you next week.”
I can’t contain my smile. I feel like this is a turning point. Like he’s finally seeing me as more than a friend. And now that he doesn’t have a girlfriend, maybe there’s room for me to grow into something more.
“Me, too.”
“I’m really glad we’re friends.”
And just like that, my hope is dashed. Killed in a fiery wreckage aptly titled the friend zone.
