“But—”
“I know it’s probably nothing,” she says, “but on the off chance that it’s something, you need to talk to her and see where you stand.”
“Can we be in a relationship, but you go back to being callous and sex-crazed?” I ask.
It’s too much to hope. She just laughs and hangs up.
Wrigley was right about one thing, though. Sneaking into my bedroom, closing the door and calling wasn’t really the strongest move I could have made.
There’s nothing left for me to do but go out there and see what I feel when I do.
I open the door and about startle the shit out of Leila.
She turns off the radio, shouting, “Jesus, Dane, when did you get home?”
“Just a few minutes ago,” I start. “There’s something I need to talk to you about—”
“You’re not going to believe this,” she starts, a look of excitement on her face.
“What?” I ask.
“I got the job!” she exclaims, turning the radio back on.
“That’s great!” I say with a smile. “What job?”
“That’s right, I didn’t tell you,” she says. “I’ve been putting out my resumé for a while now, but I hadn’t heard anything back. Today, I got the call, well one of my bosses got the call, but that doesn’t matter. I got hired on full time at Claypool and Lee! I start in a couple of weeks!”
“Claypool and Lee?” I ask.
She flips the radio off again.
“Oh, right,” she says. “I probably should have run this by you.”
“What?”
“The job’s in Jersey,” she says. “I’ve got to start looking for places.”
“New Jersey,” I say. “Wow. So, what happens—”
“I’m not just going to kick you out,” she says. “I’ll talk to Traven and see if we can get you put on the lease as the primary. I know the place is kind of pricey, but I’m sure you could find a roommate.”
That’s not what’s making me feel like I’ve been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat.
Wrigley was right. There’s no doubt about it.
I’ve got a thing for my roommate and it’s a big one. I’m not even making a penis joke there, that’s how serious this is.
“Check this out,” she says. “I’m going to be working with some of the best financial minds in the country and after five years, they’re going to give me my own team. They’re putting me on track to be a partner someday, you know, if I don’t screw it up in the meantime.”
“Oh, you won’t screw it up,” I tell her. “You’re going to do great.”
“Thanks,” she says. “I don’t mean to just bail on you, but this is really the opportunity of a lifetime for me.”
“I’m happy for you,” I tell her. “Really, I am.”
“Then why do you look like you just got hit in the stomach with a tire iron?”
I almost correct her, as the visual in my head was very clearly a baseball bat with a bunch of nails driven through the end, but the amount of explanation involved there is just too much.
“Well, I guess that just about does it,” I tell her.
“No, seriously,” she says. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” I say, but even I’m not convinced.
“Oh,” she says. “I know what it is. This is about last night.”
“Well…”
“May I ask why it bothered you that I was kissing Mike?”
“Mike?” I ask. “Isn’t he your friend from town?”
“Yeah,” Leila answers. “He was just having one of his moments and badgered me into letting him know if he was a good kisser or not. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Oh, nothing,” she says. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“What was your question?”
“Why does it bother you that I was kissing Mike?” she repeats.
“Why would it bother me?”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
I sigh.
Am I really going to do this? Wrigley is a perfectly wonderful woman: totally out of her mind, but still, very much my type. Am I really willing to risk that for someone I hardly know?
Of course, I hardly know Wrigley, but that’s neither here nor there.
“I just didn’t know you were home,” I answer. “When I came in, I realized that I was probably intruding on something, but my phone rang before I could get out of here.”
“Oh,” she says. “So it didn’t bother you that I was kissing someone else?”
“Why would it?” I ask.
This is painful.
“I don’t know,” she says. “We almost, you and I, you know…”
She trails off; her newfound discomfiture is hardly helping things.
“What?”
“Okay, I didn’t black out that night,” she says. “After your friend came out of your room wearing—or not wearing…whatever—I kind of wished that I had, but—is this too weird?”
She’s talking really fast, and it’s a few seconds before I realize she’s just asked me a question.
“Is what too weird?”
“Talking about this,” she says. “I know you and that Wrigley chick have a thing and all that. I just don’t want to make things uncomfortable between us for the next couple weeks.”
That’s actually a pretty solid idea. She’ll move and I’m sure I’ll be over her in no time.
“I think I’m in love with you,” I blurt out.
That was stupid.
The remote falls from her hand and it looks like her jaw is trying to follow it.
“You’re what?” she asks.
“You know what? Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything. You got some big news today, and I think that’s what we should be talking about.”
“You’re in love with me?” she asks.
“Well, I…”
I stammer a bit, but I have no words to follow the string of unintelligible noises.
“When did this happen?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Look, can we just forget that I said anything?”
“I just got a new job, and I’m going to be moving,” she says, putting her hands to her temples.
“Yeah, let’s just forget I said anything. I’m thrilled to hear about your—”
“Are you sure it’s not just a proximity thing?” she asks. “I know sometimes people—”
“Oh, let’s just drop it.”
She peers at me and I can’t bring myself to return the gaze.
“You are—seriously, why didn’t you say something before? You know, maybe while I was drunk and throwing myself at you?”
“Well, I—”
“Wait,” she says, “that’s right. There was a naked woman in your room at the time.”
She starts laughing and I want to kill myself.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “This really isn’t funny.”
She’s still laughing.
“Okay, well, I’m going to go now, but yeah: congratulations on the job.”
“Dane, I’m so sorry for laughing. It’s a nervous thing. I’m really not trying to laugh at you.”
“Really, it’s fine,” I tell her and turn to go back to my room.
“I wish you had told me,” she says.
I stop.
“I have feelings for you, too, you know?”
“Yeah?” I ask.
I’m no good at this whole vulnerable thing.
“Yeah,” she says. “After that night, I realized that I’ve been really attracted to you for a while. I’m pretty sure that’s why I hated you for so long.”
“So you hated me because you like me?”
“I’m a girl,” she says. “That’s kind of how we roll. You guys do it, too, you know. That whole pushing girls down in the sandbox cliché; that’s the same thing.”
“Yeah, well, good talk.”
“I really wish you said something.”
She’s still talking.
Why are we dragging this out?
“I wish I said something, but I’ve got this new job and I don’t see any way this is going to work, Dane. I wish we just—”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “You don’t owe me anything. I should have said something sooner and I didn’t. That’s the way it goes sometimes.”