Page 130 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
The familiar banter makes me smile, as does the peace sign he drops over his shoulder on the way out the door. For all Wade’s insistence on acting like we’re still in college, he’s about to pull the trigger on proposing, too. His girlfriend Miranda is sma
rt, gorgeous, and, most importantly, puts up with Wade like she’s born to do it.
They fit together like they don’t have a choice.
The silent reminder that I had felt that way, once, brushes the base of my skull. It spills dread down my spine, but as Alice catches my eye, worry darkening her sharp gaze, I try my best to ignore it.
Expectations for a love that’s special, set apart, have been cured for me. Being an adult means realizing that relationships take work and that even when they don’t seem worth it, at the end of the day, you and this girl are in it together.
That’s what I have to believe, and Al and I are good. We are.
But we’re not special. It’s a choice, being with her. Not an inevitability.
She plops onto my lap and plants a lingering kiss on my lips. I hug her bony hips against me, kissing her back and wishing more than anything that the next two days were over and we could get on with the rest of our lives.
“Are you going to behave yourself tonight?”
Irritation spiked, heating my blood. “Do I ever not behave myself?”
“No. I just love you. I don’t want to lose you.”
If anything bothers me about Al, it’s her insistence on believing other girls are after me. Maybe it bothers me that, after all these years, she doesn’t know me better than that.
“We’re getting married in two days, babe. You’re stuck with me.”
She kisses me again, cooling my annoyance. It’s hard for me to understand, her insecurity, but it’s part of Alice. I don’t get to choose which pieces I want—after Saturday, I get them all.
“Okay, well. I’m going out with my mom and my aunts to the spa, then the girls are coming over for mani-pedis.”
“Have fun.” I kiss her again and then deposit her back on her feet, still trying to cast off my strange mood. Most of all, to evict the ill-timed, useless thoughts of Tressa.
Alice loves me. She tries, every day, to make me happy. I’m in my third year of med school, and there are worse things than being sure of what’s waiting at home at the end of a long shift. Despite all the flickering moments of hope I’d imagined with Tressa, she had never admitted to loving me. Never gave me any reason to wait.
The last night of our summer she’d refused to come to bed. Scared, I think, of the unexpected strength of our attachment, the surprising pain of pulling apart. I’d slept on the floor next to the couch, just to be near her.
With her hand in mine, I’d tried desperately to pretend—like I’d pretended for the entire summer—that holding on to her body meant she belonged to me.
I had been Tressa’s, but she had never been mine. She never would be.
Three
Tressa
I ARRIVE AT the hotel with Sammie’s room number still a mystery. I’d left her a message from the road, but she hadn’t called me back. Luckily, my charm and ability to spin a disturbingly believable lie—and cry on cue—comes in handy with the pimply desk clerk, and I head upstairs with the key.
The memory of the last time I saw Sammie, the night of the pretzel incident, stabs my gut with unease, but I’m out of options. One stop at McDonald’s between Chicago and Iowa City, and I’m down to seven dollars and fifty-three cents to get me through two more days.
Even if Sammie thinks I’m nuts, I don’t think she has it in her to give me the boot. In addition to being genuinely nice, she’d been the only one at the party that night who’d acted as though she felt sorry for me. Like maybe she knew how I felt, just a little bit.
I drop my duffel bag on the floor inside the door, then bend to dig out my toiletries and head for the bathroom. My mouth feels gritty after three hours on the road, and I need to put my face back together. Once I’ve cleaned my teeth, the rest of me feels gross, and I decide on a shower. Maybe it’s rude, to shower in a borrowed hotel room, but Sammie didn’t say I couldn’t stay with her. We just hadn’t worked out the details.
The stream of super-hot water pinks my skin, loosens the knot of guilt at the base of my neck, and makes me feel slightly more prepared to face whatever’s waiting for me tonight. My plan is to call Noel and see if he’ll meet me for a drink or a cup of coffee. It’s after four in the afternoon, now, and I figure I’ll get up the nerve by seven or eight.
I hop out and tuck a towel around me, reveling in the soft, fluffy cotton, and step out of the bathroom.
“Tressa? What the fuck are you doing here?”
The deep voice startles me so badly I stumble, but strong hands catch me before I end up in a naked heap on the floor. I look up to find Wade and his bright blue, worried eyes.
