Authors: Erica Cope
“You're kind of a natural at that,” Holden says with appreciation as I'm admiring my own handiwork. It really is pretty cute.
“Thanks,” I say sincerely. I look down at his coffee mug and a giggle bursts out of my mouth before I can stop it. I don't feel bad for long because he looks like he's trying to fight a laugh of his own in response.
“Yeah, I was going for a really intricate design but I think my colors just sorta ran together instead—and not exactly in an artistic sort of way.” He stares down at the disastrous attempt in front of him. He scrunches his eyebrows as though
he’s trying to figure out
“It's the color of mud,” I point out.
“Maybe that's what I was going for?” he says a little defensively, but I can tell he's just as amused as I am.
“I think it's awesome, buddy,” Beck interjects. But he's got glaze all down the front of his shirt and all over his fingers so it's hard to take his opinion seriously.
Olivia finishes perfecting her very pink cupcake and finally looks at the rest of our masterpieces for the first time.
“Okay,” she says. “Apparently guys suck at this kind of thing.”
“Hey!” Beck acts offended. “I worked my ass off on this cereal bowl.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Looks awesome.” Her sarcastic tone isn't lost on any of us. His bowl looks like a child painted it. Truthfully, I'm surprised that with the amount of paint on his hands he didn't end up decorating the bowl with his own hand print. Or maybe he tried and the bowl was too small? Either way, it's probably a bigger mess than even Holden's mud colored mug.
“I'm starved. Creative endeavors always make me hungry,” Holden announces. “Anybody up for pizza?”
“I don't know,” I start. “I really need to study—” Olivia's pouty look cuts me off.
Somehow my ‘girls day' with Olivia painting pottery has turned into some sort of double date. Not a real one of course, but it certainly looks like one. And while it ended up being much more fun than I anticipated, I'm not sure what to do now. Going out to dinner seems even more 'date like' but is there a way to get out of it without making the situation awkward for everyone?
Holden must have read my expression accurately because he says, “It's only pizza among ‘just’ friends.” He cocks an eyebrow and gives me what I think is an I-dare-you look.
“Yeah, c'mon Aria,” Beck says. “There's this really great pub just down the street that I know you would love.” He casually drapes an arm around Olivia's shoulders causing her to beam up at him.
“And how do you know me well enough to make such a presumption? Maybe I hate pizza.” I argue.
“Who hates pizza?” Beck asks, shocked. “That's like un-American.”
“Pretty sure pizza is Italian,” I point out.
“Boys,” Olivia mutters with a laugh as she shakes her head, though the look on her face clearly expresses that she finds Beck endearing.
“Yeah, if she were to say she hates—I don't know, hotdogs or something, then
that
would be un-American,” Holden says, giving me that look of his that's beginning to feel familiar—the one that makes it seem like he can only see me. “So, do you hate hotdogs?”
“Not particularly,” I concede before sighing in resignation. “I don't hate pizza either.”
“Good.” Holden smiles brightly. “Let's go.”
After all, Olivia is my ride home and it would pretty much ruin her date if I demand that she take me home. I'll just make sure that I sit on the same side of the table as her. It probably won't be that bad and I realize that I am actually pretty hungry.
It's just pizza with friends. It doesn't mean anything.
But if that's true, why I can't squash this feeling that by being here, by hanging out and reluctantly having fun with friends, I'm somehow betraying Sean?
Chapter 9
I don't even look at the phone to see who is calling before I answer it. Since I allowed myself the luxury of spending all day Saturday hanging out with Olivia, Beck, and Holden, I had to make up for it on Sunday by cramming in some much needed studying. At some point I had apparently dozed off in the middle of the study session. When I pry open my heavy lids I realize I am curled up on the living room floor surrounded by books, papers, a half-eaten pizza, and four different coffee cups, one of which has spilled all over one of my notebooks.
Lovely.
Waking up with pizza stuck to the front of my shirt and my cheek damp with what I can only assume is drool is not exactly the best way to start the day. If you looked up 'Hot-Mess' in the dictionary, I'm pretty sure it'd be a picture of my pathetic self this morning.
I need coffee.
“Hello?” I manage to mumble the words groggily.
“Aria? Are you okay? You sound sick? Are you ill? Do I need to come there? This is the reason I was not comfortable with you living on your own right now. Did you forget to turn on your heater? Are you dressing warm enough? I wish you would stop being ridiculous and just drive the car that I have on very good authority your father has parked in front of your apartment building. Why do you have to be so stubborn? We just want to take care of you—”
“Hello, Mother.” And this is exactly why I make a point to always screen my calls.
“Don't take that sassy tone with me, Aria Jane Watkins.”
“Sorry. Still sleeping.”
“You're what? It's nearly ten o'clock. I thought I'd catch you in between your morning classes.”
“It's what?” I bolt to my feet and frantically check the time only to discover she's right— of course she's right— and I've missed Biology. My alarm must not have gone off. “Oh my gosh! I have to go, Mom. Bye!”
I throw the phone down and almost run out the door without even changing clothes. I pull a sweatshirt on over my pizza stained t-shirt, silently thanking God that I fell asleep in my own clothes last night so I didn't ruin the only shirt of Sean's I have left. I swish some mouth wash around, gargle, and call it good. I race to campus in hopes of not missing my American Lit class and praying I have time to talk to my Bio professor about the notes I missed this morning. What is college doing to me? I've never been late before and this is twice now. I can't believe I overslept.
I make it to class with a few minutes to spare and have just enough time to pull up the rat's nest that is my hair into a messy bun.
Olivia walks in and does a double-take. “Are you going for that messy but fabulous look this morning?” she asks with a smile.
“I was running late.” I cringe and awkwardly try to brush the hair out of my face where it's starting to fall from the half-ass bun.
“Rough night?” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.
“Studying. Biology is already kicking my ass.”
“That sucks. Can you get a tutor or something?”
My mind briefly drifts to Holden's offer but I don't think I'm that desperate yet.
“Yeah, I mean, I can but I think I want to try to figure it out on my own first.”
“Okay, but if you keep coming to class looking like that...just know, I will plan an intervention and force a tutor upon you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Hey what are you doing tonight?”
“Um, studying?”
“That's no fun and you look like you could use some fun.”
“I don't know about that. What I could use is a functioning alarm clock.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Have you seen Beck around?”
“No but I never did before so it’s not that weird.” “Has Holden mentioned anything about him?”
“No, but why would he?”
“I don’t know, you guys are friends or whatever.”
“Not really. I mean we’re co-workers. That’s pretty much it.”
“He hasn’t called me yet.”
“He’s a guy. Aren’t they notorious for not calling for the requisite number of days following a date determined by secret guy code or something like that?”
She seems like she’s lost in thought and I get the impression that this is uncharted territory for her. She’s tall and leggy and classically beautiful. I imagine she isn’t used to being rejected often.
“I’m sure he’ll call, Liv.” The nickname just sort of slips out. “I might see Holden at work later, I can ask him about it if you want me to.”
“Would you?”
“Yeah, of course. No problem.”
“Thanks Aria!”
The rest of my day is less stressful. I manage to make it to my two afternoon classes early but I seriously need to go home and shower. I stink of cheese and pizza sauce. We have a test in American Lit over this week's reading and luckily I finish early enough that I have time to go home and clean up before work.
When I get to The Java Bean, I'm disappointed to see that Holden isn't here. I tell myself it's because I want to ask him about Beck for Olivia, but if I’m being completely honest, I have to admit I really do enjoy working with him. His antics are always entertaining and make the shift go by fast.
Since he isn't here, that means I'm working with Mason. I'll have to do all the work up front by myself since he always spends all of his time locked in the back office doing ‘paperwork’.
At least we aren’t very busy so I manage to get a little studying done. As I pour over my Biology notes, I find myself even more disappointed that Holden isn’t here. I could actually use his help with this chapter but I’d never have the nerve to call him. I’ll just have to ask someone for notes tomorrow.
I finally get home around nine o’clock. It took me longer than normal to finish the closing duties since Mason is really no help at all. I take my second shower of the day because now I smell like coffee which is at least more pleasant than day old pizza I guess.
I’m reaching for a sweatshirt, careful as always to not even spare a glance at the cardboard box or my guitar in the corner of my closet, when my phone rings, startling me. I accidentally knock over the guitar with a musical thud and scramble to pick it up with shaky hands. Just the feel of the long thin handle makes my fingers itch to play but I shake it off and hastily set the instrument back up against the wall. Not quite ready for that yet.
I locate my phone and see that it’s Olivia.
“Hello?”
I hear her sniffling on the other end. “I saw him.”
“And?”
“He was groping some curvy redhead with a big ass.”
“Oh.”
“Stupid jackass.” Her voice sounds a little stronger, less weepy. “I need to stuff myself with something chocolate. Want to join me?”
How can I tell her no?
“Yeah, of course. Do you want to come here?”
She barges into my apartment about fifteen minutes later with a stack full of Channing Tatum movies and a gallon of Ben and Jerry's. Apparently she means business. She hugs me and I try not to be too awkward when I squeeze her back. She then plops herself down on the floor and digs right into the ice cream container with a spoon.
“Um, do you want a bowl for that?” I ask.
“No, I'm good.”
“Okay then.”
After the initial weirdness, I realize that it’s actually nice having her here. I think it’s impossible to be miserable for too long around the perpetual ray of sunshine that is Olivia. I never really had any close girlfriends. Sean and I started dating our sophomore year in high school and after that my world pretty much revolved around him.
It was always just the two of us. I had a few people that I guess I considered friends, but I never really hung out with any of them outside of school. I never gave it much thought before now, but looking back it seems like that was a pretty stupid thing to do—to become so wrapped up in another person that everything else around you fades away. Because when the day comes that they are no longer around, it's hard to recognize yourself without them. .
“Dude, you’re seriously depressing me. You're supposed to be making me feel better, not worse,” she says with a mouth full of Cherry Garcia goodness.
“Sorry, I'm just distracted.”
“How can you be distracted from the gloriousness that is Channing Tatum?”
“His ears stick out funny.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me! It’s Channing Tatum! Hello? Sexiest man, like, ever!”
She gapes at me when I just shrug half-heartedly, obviously not impressed.
“If he was moving his hips like that in front of you, you’re telling me you wouldn’t be even a little bit tempted to throw yourself at him and have ten little Channing babies? The way he moves is, like, hypnotizing.”
“Eh.” I shrug again, this time just to get a reaction out of her.
“Oh my gosh! Okay, fine. Now I’m definitely going to force you to sit through a Channing Tatum marathon. I’ll make you a fan-girl by the end of the night,” she promises, and then proceeds to rewind and playback the movie in slow motion so that I can fully appreciate Channing’s rock hard body and his hypnotizing hips.
A knock on the door interrupts our movie and Olivia pauses it while I answer the door so I don't miss anything.
I peek through the peephole and all I can see is a mess of blonde hair.
“Who is it?” Olivia whispers, obviously wondering why I haven't answered the door yet.
“It's Holden.”
“What’s he doing here?”
I shrug. He knocks again.
“Answer the door you idiot!” Her eyes light up with excitement.
I shoot her a deadly look, take a deep breath and open the door.
“Um, hi,” he greets me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I just thought I'd drop off these notes.”
“Notes?”
“Yeah, you didn't show up in Bio this morning so I, um, took notes for you, since the test is next week,” he says with a shrug. He seems nervous but I'm not sure why. It's not like I would be mad at him for being so thoughtful.
“Oh, thanks Holden. I mean it. Seriously, thank you. Hilburn wasn't exactly forgiving when I went to talk to him about it earlier.”
“I figured he wouldn't be,” he smiles knowingly, but I still detect a little nervousness in his demeanor.
It just occurred to me that this is the first time he's been to my apartment—and I’ve never given him the address.
“Um, I really appreciate this and everything but, um, how do you know where I live?”
He's silent for a moment. “Um, I might have already looked up your address on your application.”
“That's kind of stalkerish.”
“I just wanted to know how far you were riding that damn bike every day.”
“Oh,” I reply awkwardly. Not really sure what else to say, I just kind of stand there staring at the floor when, of course, Olivia decides to pipe in.
“We're having a Channing Tatum marathon. Wanna join us?”
“I'm sure he isn't interested in watching a bunch of chick flicks, Olivia,” I say pointedly.
“Yeah, I don't want to intrude on 'girls night'.”
“Intrude away!” Olivia chimes.