Page 72 of Selfie
I tuck the gift bag into my tote filled with a change of clothes, tennis shoes, and my wet swimsuit. I want to surprise Charlie later.
I can’t wipe the stupid smile off my face as I head to the Lincoln. The girls have the cabin interior lights on, and I already hear Tate McRae blasting through my speakers. I bop my head along, appreciating the sassy tunes of today’s new Britney Spears.
Pulling out my phone, I call Nathan but he doesn’t answer. After two rings it goes straight to voicemail. I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t called or texted to check in since this morning. It’s probably best not to turn into a paranoid, stage-five clinger the very day after he slept over for the first time. I don’t want to scare him off.
I bet he’s in a meeting with his legal team as we speak, making plans to take down the corrupt plumbing company. In lieu of a voicemail, I pause outside my closed driver side door, letting the girls jam out for a little longer, and send him a text.
Me
Today was incredible. I don’t even know how to thank you. You are officially Charlie’s favorite person on the planet.
The read receipt goes from delivered to read immediately. His response bubble populates, then quickly disappears. His text follows shortly and I giggle at his contact name every time it pops up on my phone.
It’s Nate. I’m sorry
You’re welcome. It was my pleasure.
Me
Are you busy?
It’s Nate. I’m sorry
Somewhat.
Me
About that date… When do I get to see you again?
It’s Nate. I’m sorry
Spencer, today was a gift of friendship.
Me
Meaning?
It’s Nate. I’m sorry
Last night was crossing the line. Starting Monday, I’d like if we could go back to just being professional. I promise I will be a better boss moving forward though.
I stare at his words, trying to breathe through the unexpected sucker punch to the gut. What the hell? I know Nathan isn’t my boyfriend, but is he already breaking up with me?
Me
What happened? I’ll be home within an hour. Can we at least talk? I’m so confused.
It’s Nate. I’m sorry
I don’t have time tonight. Sorry.
Me
Please?
I feel weak for practically begging, but at least it’s honest.
Again, the read receipt is immediate. But this time Nathan doesn’t respond. I bite on my tongue so hard it hurts. I don’t know why, I guess to subtly express the pain I’m feeling inside. All the weight Dawn lifted earlier today with our heart-to-heart talk jumps right back into my body, like Flubber finding its rightful host again.
