Lucy: I want to.
Whit: Fair enough.
Whit: Video chat me so you can say hi to Rose.
Lucy:Isn’t it past her bedtime?
Whit: Tell that to the poor little munchkin’s teeth. But she’s sucking on a frozen washcloth now, so sleep should come again soon.
I hit a button, and two seconds later, Whit and Rose fill my screen. She doesn’t look too distressed, sitting there in the circle of his arms making gurgling noises. But then again, I’ve been wrapped up in those strong arms, and they can make the worst of your troubles melt away.
We talk for a while about nothing, and when Rose starts to get fussy and rubs her eyes, Caleb sings some song I barely know the words to.I think it’s by Guns N’ Roses. It mollifies her a little, but she’s still pretty cranky.
“You know what might work? Try singing her something from this century.”
“Right, because at eleven months old she knows exactly which decade a song came from,” he quips. “C’mon, Rosebud, let’s walk Miss Lucy to your room and rock for a bit, ok?”
He kisses her forehead and starts a new tune. She likes this one better, and so do I. Though I can’t believe he knows the words. His voice is a little quieter in deference to bedtime, but he hits every note perfectly. And I should know. I listened to this song a hundred times a day back in middle school. No offense to my favorite band, but One Direction's “Night Changes” has never sounded so good.
Rose’s eyes are closed, and the phone jostles a bit as I watch him put her in her crib. He turns out the light and steps into the hall. Now it’s just the two of us on video chat, and I say what I’m thinking.
“You don’t play fair, Caleb.”
“Neither do you, Lucy,” he tells me, a smile on his lips. “Call you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” I say, because there’s no other answer. I can’t really stay away. No, I can’t give in to the attraction I feel, but there’s no reason we can’t be friends, right? And being friends with someone who’s given you the best (and kind of the only) man-made orgasms of your life? Yeah, that won’t be hard at all.
* * *
Whit
It’s the middle of the day and Drip is bustling.But the new semester just started, so it makes sense that everyone’s hitting the books and getting revved up on caffeine.
“Here you go, guys, one non-fat latte with almond milk and one peppermint mocha.” Mel, one of the baristas, smiles across the counter and hands us our order. I pick up my mocha and leave Booker to his skinny drink.
We thank her and head over to find two empty chairs by the big bay window.
“This work for you?” I ask, setting my stuff down.
“Yeah, I can’t stay long. I’ve got to meet with Coach at two, before practice. Plus I’ve got class before then.” He unwraps a protein bar and devours it in two bites.
“Things still rough with the team?” I ask. Booker’s the alternate captain of the hockey team and they’ve been having a tough season. And they shouldn’t be. They have some of the best players in the country on the roster.
He sighs and opens another protein bar. “It’s this shit with Koz and Schuler, man. It’s bad energy, and it’s affecting all of us. The fundamentals are there, and technically speaking, we play well. But there’s no heart behind it. We’re not gelling. And we’ve got a tough one coming up against UMass in a couple weeks. Could be brutal.”
“That sucks,” I tell him because it does and because I don’t know how to help. “Guess you can’t just lock them in a room together to sort out their differences?”
“Actually, it was Koz getting locked in a room with Schuler’s ex that started this whole mess. Well, that’s not exactly fair. Schuler’s been a jerk since day one. And he’s a senior, so add a hefty portion of entitlement to the mix. His chances of going pro are slim, so there’s a fair amount of bitterness there too. It’s ugly all around.”
“Damn. I do not envy you or Friedline,” I say, since he’s the official captain. “Or Coach.”
“It’ll all work out. It has to,” Booker says, sounding falsely optimistic. “What about you, man? You look beat.”
“Truth,” I say, taking a drink. “Rosebud’s teething, so I stayed up while Knox kept Willa up. And then they kept me up because my room is directly above theirs. Jesus, they’re loud. Think your dad would notice if we hired someone to soundproof the walls?”
“Nah, besides it might be worth it. Ty and Phoebe aren’t exactly quiet, either.”
A couple guys from the hockey team walk in, needing Booker’s attention, so I take a minute to scroll through my phone. I awoke this morning to a pic of Lucy in her internship-approved suit. It’s a navy polyester get-up that covers her from neck to knee. Of course, she’s Lucy, so there’s no hiding those curves or that sex appeal. She captioned the photo with:Nora, my roommate, says I look like a flight attendant from the 80s. Can you confirm?
