Page 46 of Later Bloom

“Maybe you’re right, then. You’re not done messing up, and it’d really suck if you put that on me.”

Raphael seems smaller now in the width of his coat. When he speaks, he doesn’t seem to address her directly. “I liked the conversations we had, what we talked about. I thought you might want to know why I didn’t write you after.”

“I did.” Funnily enough, this is the most Aubrey’s talked to the same man in a long time, except maybe for Arthur. Still, she feels so far removed from who Raphael is. Somehow she knows that no matter what she tells him now, it doesn’t really matter. “I just thought maybe closure would sting a little less,” she says, mostly to herself.

“Closure rarely comes the way we want it to, I think. Otherwise, it’s not really closure. It’s a fantasy.”

Aubrey winces and looks up at the sky, at the streetlights ahead. “My head hurts.”

She’s tired, and she wants to tell Florence about this, and she wants Florence to say that Raphael really is awful, and all will work out, and surely none of what he said is actually true. She wants it to be Monday, and she wants to see Arthur and pack away the delivery with him and talk about how he’s been, how she’s been. Maybe she’ll tell him about Raphael, she’s not sure yet. She’ll wait to see if he tells her about his date.

“I’m heading back inside,” Raphael says firmly, as if to convince them both.

“Right. Have a good night, I guess.”

His attention lingers on her for a moment. He looks sad, almost, or disappointed. “Okay,” is all he finds to say. Then he nods and adds, “See you, Aubrey,” and vanishes past her, back through the entrance of the club.

Aubrey pulls her phone out to send an SOS to Florence, a short Standing outside, please join?? but when the screen lights up, someone else already waits for her.

The message is short and sweet—heard you’re having a rager of a night. Teach me your ways? Haha. Starting to understand why you’ve stayed on your own so long.

Aubrey stands with her phone in her hand and stares. She squints. Reads it again.

She’s still staring when another message pops up at the top of the screen asking where she is, from a worried Florence using a concerning number of question marks. Aubrey hovers over the little keyboard of her phone. She starts to write, Outside by the d—, but then she switches to her conversation with Arthur.

She types, Might give you a run for your money on who’s had the worst night. Considering running off to the woods for good. She notices she’s smiling only because her face hurts in the cold.

Next she sends a picture of her surroundings to Florence and tucks her phone away before she starts expecting a response from Arthur.

“Well, fuck me!” Florence’s voice rises from the crowd a moment later. She’s grinning when she emerges from the club. Her hair is a mess and her lips are shiny. She’s looking around as if searching for someone other than Aubrey. “Where’s tall, dark, and handsome?” she asks with a pout.

“Tall, dark, and handsome brought me out here to let me know exactly why he ghosted me, and how I’m so impossibly undateable that he had to take four months to think over all the reasons he wouldn’t be with me, and then let me know his insightful conclusion in vivid detail.”

The way Florence’s face falls is so comedic it makes Aubrey snort. “I’m fine,” she says.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I would love to be doing that.”

“You have to tell me more.”

“Did you want to head back in?” Aubrey asks, tentatively. “Were you making out in there?”

“What a weird thing to ask. I definitely was.”

“Mm. Impressive.”

“Not really.” Florence takes a quick look back at the door. She’s grimacing when she turns back to face Aubrey. “Let’s head home. I can’t stand being in there a second longer.”

“Thank god.”

“Making out’s the easy part,” Florence explains as they head away from the lights and the crowd. “I’m desensitized to it—it’s the one thing I’ve never felt nervous to do. I’ve kissed guys and girls in bars and house parties without thinking twice about it. It’s just a fun thing to do, I guess. I like making out. I like, you know, lip biting, and having my neck grabbed, all that. It’s the rest of it I haven’t nailed yet.”

Aubrey laughs and says, to the inky black sky, “Pun intended.” To her left, Florence sucks air through her teeth.

“Walked into that one.”

They make a turn on the street where the car is parked, but very slowly, dragging out their steps. Aubrey says, “I’m glad you had fun then. Do you think you’ll see him again?”