Someday Maybe (13 page)

Chapter Eighteen

I hadn’t been on a road trip in ages and was actually looking forward to the five-hour drive. But once we were inside Oliver’s SUV with Meghan in the front seat, it was “Rad” this and “Rad” that. I couldn’t help it, he didn’t look like a Rad to me, and if I heard “Rad” one more time, I might vomit.

Settling in, I crossed my legs and rested the side of my head against the window. Sitting kitty-corner from him, I had a straight-on view of Oliver’s profile behind the wheel.

Rad. What did that name even mean?

A Rad didn’t have corded muscles in his neck like that. I stole a glance at Oliver, and right on cue, he swallowed, working those sexy neck muscles. I shifted, recrossing my legs. And no one called Rad could ever have a jaw sharper than a Ginsu knife. Oliver said something to Sarah then rubbed his jaw. It was sprinkled with stubble today. I felt my lips peel apart, throat going dry. And that perfect profile of Oliver’s, those lips of his could
never
be mistaken for—

I blinked, getting a full frontal view of his face now. He was turned halfway around, saying something else to Sarah in the backseat beside me, but he’d caught me in a full-on stare.

“Did you say something?” he asked.

My mouth was obviously still open, lips parted, so I shut it first then said, “Me? No.”

He turned back to the road but shot me another quick glance, running a knuckle under his chin. Did he know I absolutely loved that move? Or
used
to…I
used
to love that move.

Seriously, Rachel.

I grabbed my jacket, wadded it up into a ball to use as a pillow, and slammed my eyes shut. I could still hear Meghan’s “Rad” comments—puke—but I least I couldn’t see anything.

But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t dream. Before I knew it, my eyelids were heavy and I nodded off… We weren’t in his car anymore, but in his bedroom back in college. I could smell his soap, the wet towel from his shower. There were those neck muscles again. I was closer to them now. That jaw I’d kissed a million times, and yes, his lips. I had to touch those lips.

It wasn’t exactly a snore that startled me awake. I’d actually mumbled something else in my sleep. And if it was a name, it sure as hell wasn’t “Rad.” Everyone in the car was talking, though I hadn’t yet opened my eyes, making sure no one had heard me, if I had indeed said aloud what I’d called out in the dream.

Megs was on her phone, talking to her mother, it sounded like. And Sarah was telling Oliver about a painting she was replicating for a class. All clear. I cracked one eye open. From my position, I wasn’t in plain view of Oliver’s profile anymore, but I could see his reflection in the rearview mirror. For a second, I thought I must still be dreaming, because he was looking at me. But since I was squinting, I couldn’t be sure, so I cozied into my jacket/pillow, like I was rolling over in bed, and took another peek. We must’ve been driving through a town, idling at a stop light, otherwise, our driver’s gaze could not be focused on my reflection—instead of the road—for so many seconds together.

Slowly, I opened both eyes, a millimeter at a time.

We were looking at each other now, just us. And no one else knew. It was like time stopped.
“I love to watch you sleep,”
he’d once told me.
“But watching you wake up, that’s my favorite part.”
My heartbeats faded, then sped up, hard and fast. After a moment, the corners of his eyes crinkled, like he was smiling at me. At my reflection, just waking up.

“The light’s green. Ollie.”

Oliver blinked—once like he was coming out of a daze, and a few more times, like he was embarrassed at being caught by me.

“Thanks,” he said to Sarah, then he cleared his throat, definitely not looking at me when he started driving through the intersection. He wiped the back of his hand over his upper lip, then across his forehead. Oliver was sweating.

I sat up and stretched, feeling a little bit gratified. So, I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten caught up in the past.

The winters around Los Angeles County were milder than in San Francisco. After the five-hour drive—two of which I’d been napping—I was instantly exhilarated by the bright, breezy, sunny day that welcomed us in Pasadena.

Oliver pulled up to our hotel. It was typical southern California decor: orange stucco buildings surrounding a pool with sky-high palm trees. It looked trashy but charming. Before Oliver could put the car in park, two guys wearing black hoodies jumped out of nowhere and started pounding on the hood. Meghan screamed and huddled with me in the backseat. When Oliver laughed and honked the horn, I relaxed, though from the way he was pointing at the guys and gesturing out the window, I was even more confused.

“Oh, it’s Ryan.” Sarah stuck her tongue out at the hooded guy by her window. “And Nick.” She hid her face in her hands, reverting back to her tween self around her big brother’s buddies.

The night before we left, Sarah gave Meghan and I a quick dish on Ryan and Nick—complete with a peek at their Instagram photos. They’d been roommates with Oliver at Nebraska State and were both cute. Ryan on the hipster side, Nick on the Nordic God side. Though you couldn’t tell everything from pictures.

“Okay, smartasses,” Oliver called through the windshield to the guys rocking the car. “You scratch it, you buy it.”

Meghan glanced at me with raised eyebrows. I shrugged in reply and looked out my window, enjoying the show. The one I took to be Nick slid across the hood of the car, landed, then positioned himself like a sniper. This caused Oliver to double over laughing. Ryan pointed both hands at Oliver, mouthing something I couldn’t understand, but it looked like he was singing. Evidently the rest of us were not in on the inside jokes shared by the former roommates.

Oliver was laughing to the point of tears now and I couldn’t help staring at him, at his whole face alight like the carefree boy I used to know. The sound of his laughter made my heart duck and cover from the avalanche of memories…us laughing together like that.

Out of my peripheral vision, I caught Nick moving to my window. When I turned, he stopped cold and took a step toward the car. “Hi,” I mouthed and waved one finger.

He slapped a hand over his heart like he’d been shot and stumbled backward. Everyone inside the car went quiet. I chuckled, self-consciously. “Is he all right?”

“Dang.” Sarah looked at me, her eyebrows lifted. “What’d you do, Rachel?”

“Waved.”

The two guys were in a football huddle now. Nick’s blue eyes—that were way bluer than in pictures—found me over Ryan’s shoulder. Instagram filters did the guy no justice. He was
Vampire Diaries
pretty. No wonder he’d moved to L.A.

Oliver muttered under his breath, then opened his car door, nearly hitting Nick in the face. I didn’t move while watching the three buddies reunite. They looked so happy as they bumped fists and did those awkward-looking guy half-hugs. When all three looked at me, my face got hot and I glanced away.

“Rachel.” Meghan stood outside my door. “Let’s check in.”

“Yeah, coming.” I nodded, still feeling several sets of eyes on me.

We were a rowdy bunch, our voices, bodies, and luggage taking over the hotel lobby. Because of the Get Happy festival—and Meghan’s inability to make a reservation—we lost one of our rooms, so we three girls were left sharing one. “It’ll be like the dorms again,” Meghan cheered. I volunteered to take the rollaway cot for the first night.

After check-in, Nick fell into step with me, offering to get my bags.

“My contribution to the week is I’m taking us to the Lakers/Spurs game Thursday night, the day after the 5K,” he said, as he rolled my suitcase down the hall. “I couldn’t get us all in the press box but the seats are good, first level behind the bench.” This set everyone chattering. “Have you ever been to a game?” he asked me as we fell to the rear of the group. “You should see Kobe Bryant. Amazing athlete. Especially live.”

“Dallas has a pretty solid team this season. Nowitski’s a shoo-in for MVP.” I flipped my hair in a way I’d seen Gio do. “He averages twenty-five a game; twenty-seven on the road. But we should actually worry about Garnett in the west. He’s hot since the trade. And Kobe is so five years ago.”

Nick stopped walking and stared at me.

“A friend of mine knows Mark Cuban.” I shrugged, coyly. “When I lived in Dallas last season, I sat courtside twice and twice in his suite. He gave me the inside scoop.”

Nick looked like he was about to simultaneously drool and cry. I flipped my hair again and walked ahead, laying on the flirty coy. At least, I hoped it was flirty. It had been so long.

We hadn’t been in our room ten seconds before Sarah started in. “So, hello. Nick is
totally
smitten with you, Rach.” She tossed her bags on the bed.

I unzipped my suitcase, trying not to smile. “What are you talking about? We just met.”

Meghan, who was unloading her pre-measured bottles of cayenne pepper, honey, and sea salt water into the tiny hotel room fridge, let loose a dramatic wail. “I have
never
heard you talk like that to a guy. You were flirting with him in front of everyone.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was not.”

“You were. You touched his arm and flipped your damn hair. I saw you.”

“So did I.” Sarah sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t you think he’s cute?”

“Duh. Of
course
.” I made myself wait a couple of beats so I didn’t sound as giddy as I was starting to feel. Nick wasn’t just cute; his
face
should’ve been in magazines instead of his words about West Coast sports. “Which is precisely why he wasn’t flirting back. No one that good looking would be
smitten
with
me
.”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

Meghan screwed open the top of one of her water concoctions, took a tiny sip, and gagged. “What Rachel means is”—she jabbed a thumb my way—“she’s got it in her head that she’s not pretty. Whatever
that
means.”

“Rachel!” Sarah gasped dramatically. “You’ve
got
to be
kidding
.”

I really hoped I wasn’t about to witness an argument about how pretty I was or wasn’t.

Sarah stood with her hands on her hips. “Sometimes I can’t stand to look at you.”

I laughed. “My point exactly.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Two blotches of pink appeared on her cheeks. “I mean, you’re so beautiful, everything about you.” She stretched out on the bed, propped up by an elbow. “It’s a little intimidating.”

“Ha!” Meghan pointed at me. “I told you.”

“Guys—stop.” I busied myself with hanging up my clothes I didn’t want to get wrinkled. “This is a pointless topic.”

“Okay, okay.” Meghan unpacked her toiletries, lining bottles and zipper pouches on the desk. “Sarah, tell us everything we need to know about Nick.”

“He’s from Omaha. He’s the only boy with a bunch of sisters.”

“Cute.” Meghan tapped her chin. “Rachel needs better female influences in her life.”

“Hey!” Sarah frowned indignantly, but went on. “I’m not sure what he was studying in school, probably journalism or communications.
LA Times
hired him straight out of college.”

“Impressive.”

“We already knew that,” I said.

“Hush—this doesn’t concern you.” Meghan pinched the air in front of my lips. “Go on, Sarah.”

“He hikes.”

“Nice.” Meghan nodded.

“And surfs.”

“Sexy.”

“And I don’t know this for sure, but I think Hemingway’s his favorite writer.”

Meghan hmm’d and nodded clinically. “When was his last serious relationship?”

Sarah bit her lip, thinking. “It ended less than a year ago. His cow ex is already engaged.”

“Cow,” Meghan agreed.

“He’s single and looking—
that
I know.”

“Any latex allergies?”

“Meghan.” I nudged her hip with my bare foot. “Do you really think I need to worry about latex tonight?”

“A modern woman is always prepared.” She plopped on the foot of my bed and cracked open a Diet Coke. “I don’t think there’s anything left to discuss. Nick is perfect.” She rolled onto her back and lifted her chin to look at me upside down. “All yours, Rach.”

“I appreciate your confidence.” He was cute,
very
cute, and sure, I’d only been around him for twenty minutes, but he seemed smart and funny and, yes, he
had
been flirting with me. I wasn’t that out of practice.

I’d been meaning to move on from Oliver, get past that whole mess. But was it a wise idea to move on from him with one of his best friends?

Chapter Nineteen

That evening, while the group headed to a swanky-chic restaurant in downtown L.A., I rented a car and drove fifty miles east. I needed to pop in on Krikit as soon as possible. I was spending six days in Pasadena, but each second I didn’t see my sister was a second she would make me pay for it when I did visit by watching videos of eighties pop music.

Before I could unload my bag, a scream rang out from inside the house. I sprinted through the front door to find my sister in the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” I exclaimed. “Where are the kids?”

“It’s
gross
.” Krikit lifted up on her tiptoes, pointing to a corner by the sink. “Kill it, Rachel. Get the gun.”

I looked toward where she was pointing, expecting to see a hungry coyote who’d wandered in from the hills.

“Krikit.” I exhaled. “It’s just a little pill bug.” I grabbed a paper towel off the counter and scooped it up. Krikit whimpered softly as I walked past her toward the front door. Once outside, I opened the paper towel and let the little gray guy slide onto the porch. It stayed curled up in a tight ball, waiting. But it never got the change to uncoil because the heel of a hot pink trainer came down, squashing it flat.

“Krikit!”

“And so is your old lady.” She glared at the tiny stain then looked at me. “Sister!” I was pulled into a hug. I laughed, relaxing into it. “I’m so glad you’re here. Just wait, Paul’s going to say ‘I told you so’ if I don’t clean this up before he gets home.”

Once she released from our hug, she tugged my sleeve, pulling me into the house. “I was making fried chicken and the bread mixer went all crazy.”

“How did flour get in the bottoms of all the glasses?”

She leaned a hip against the counter. “Before I could shut off the mixer, the oil was bubbling and I’m not any good at actually frying anything, but I promised Paul I’d learn to fry chicken for his birthday next month. Now there’s flour everywhere and I scorched the bottom of my new pan from Williams-Sonoma—it’s sitting on the back porch. The kids are down the street, and Paul’ll be home in two seconds and there’s no dinner.” She glanced at the drawer next to the phone, the one I knew was crammed full of paper menus. “I guess we’re having pizza again. Would you mind calling? I need to sit for a second.”

When she stopped to breathe, I laughed. “And so is your old lady?”

“That bug was pissing me off. How dare it disturb me when I’m trying to fry chicken?”

“I don’t think it’s fair to blame an innocent bug for the fact that all Daughtrys suck at culinary arts.”

“I guess.” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “So. Rog really didn’t come with you? He hasn’t been home since last summer.”

“His home is San Francisco.” But she went off on a tangent about how home is where you grew up and why does he never come visit. I listened patiently while crouched on the floor, sweeping up flour. No, I couldn’t cook worth a crap, but I could clean.

“Meghan didn’t come with you?” Krikit peered into the framed mirror over the stove, etched with a saying about how a happy home is a dirty home. Whatever got her through the day. “I ran into her mother last week. I guess Meg’s got a new guy?”

The dustpan slipped from my fingers and fell to the bottom of the tall, metal trash can, clanking all the way down.

Krikit pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “Have you met him? He’s probably so hot, like one of those guys on that one show. Ya know which one I mean? She has good taste when it comes to looks. I bet she marries this one, right? Rachel. What are you doing?”

I caught myself staring into the trash can, sweeping the air. “I’ve met him, yes. His name is Oliver.” I cringed, wishing I’d referred to him as Rad. It was easier to think of him by that non-name when I thought of him with Meghan. “She’s known him five months, I guess.” I rescued the floury dustpan, not making eye contact with Krikit. “He’s a computer programmer. And yes, he’s hot, like Chris-Pine-in-
Star-Trek
hot.”

It made me queasy to utter that last sentence, but the celebrity description detail would pacify Krikit. I walked to the sink and washed my hands, sneaking little glances at my sister. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” She tossed me a towel to dry my hands.

“Why did you marry Paul?”

She snorted. “Rude, much?”

“No, Sorry. Paul’s great.” I paused, wrapping my arms around my middle. “I meant, why did you get married so young? You were twenty. I ask because I have a…a little problem and I think your answer might help.”

Krikit slowly met my eyes then pushed out a kitchen chair with her foot. “Sit.”

“Thanks.”

She played with the napkin holder before answering. “I was ready to get married, but it was a timing thing, too. Things were rough at home. Dad was out of work, you probably don’t remember.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you understand what I mean. Paul became everything to me. It felt safer to be with him—someone all my own—than with Mom and Dad when there was all that instability and tension. Paul and I had to trust each other, take a huge leap of faith together. Believe it or not, I did a lot of growing up those first years.”

“What happened since then?” I smirked and nudged her leg.

“Doodoohead.”

I ran my palms over the table. “It is funny. We shared the same situation but it affected us the exact opposite.”

“How do you mean?”

I hesitated, but it felt right to finally talk to my sister about it, though she didn’t need to know every detail. “I had a boyfriend freshman year.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“No one did. Anyway, it got really serious really fast. I became, like, consumed with him. I started skipping classes just to be with him. It was pretty unhealthy, and then I freaked out because he didn’t fit into my”—I paused to cringe—“my plan.”

Krikit lifted her eyebrows. “Your
plan
plan. The ten-year plan?”

I nodded. “Yeah. We weren’t on the same level about everything back then, which I know now was a ridiculous expectation. I was a total control freak.”

“Was?” my sister said after a snort.

I smirked back. “I’m handling it better now. I’ve had to kind of roll with the punches at my new job. It’s been humbling. Back then, though, the thought of dealing with potential instability scared me to death.”

“It’s good to be scared about the future when you’re young. That probably means you weren’t ready to take whatever step was next.”

“I was the same age as you.
He
was ready.” I rested my chin in my hands, my shoulders slumping. “We loved each other, and I hurt him bad.”

Krikit reached out and fingered the ends of my hair. “Forgive yourself for what you did when you were a kid. You made a mistake—”

“I did.”
A huge one
, I almost added. Conflicting emotions spun inside my head. My relationship with Oliver had been so important—life changing. But I still couldn’t think of it without feeling sad. I rubbed my arms, worried that I might cry.

“You’re supposed to make mistakes at that age—lots of them,” Krikit said. “You’re supposed to fall in love and screw up and cry and get arrested and sleep with your lit professor and go public skinny-dipping and fall in love again. Lather, rinse, repeat.”

When I tried to laugh, a sob/cough hung in my chest. “It still hurts when I think about it.”

She put a hand over mine. “Seriously, forgive yourself. It’s been how many years?”

“Almost seven.”

“Seven years. Rach. That’s so long. It’s like a whole dog’s life, right?”

That sob/laugh finally broke out. “I think you’ve got that backward.”

“My point is, and not to discount your feelings or anything, but to this guy, your relationship was a fleeting life experience, something he sulked about for two months tops, and only when he drank beer alone. You’ve dated since then, haven’t you?”

“A little.”

“You need to get back out there. That’s part of forgiveness, giving yourself permission to really move on and be happy with someone. You deserve that.”

I turned to smile at her. “You’re so wise, sis. I’m in awe at how self-possessed you are.”

Krikit jumped when a car door slammed out front. “Crap, Paul’s home. Quick—pretend the house got broken into and robbers burned the chicken, ‘kay?”

“Yeah. Scratch that awe.”

The next evening, I’d texted Meghan from the road that I was stuck behind a wreck and would be arriving back in Pasadena pretty late. I was surprised to see Nick in the hotel’s deserted lounge when I finally rolled in.

“Hey.” I met him under a chandelier made out of deer antlers. He closed his laptop and stood. “I told Meghan for everyone to go to dinner without me. They didn’t wait, did they?”

“Just me.”

“Oh.” So maybe his flirting last night really did have some intention behind it. “Cool.” I smiled, hoping I didn’t look too travel weary. I hooked the strap of my overnight bag over my shoulder.

“Let me take that.”

“Thanks.” I passed him the bag. “Do you know where they went to eat? I can drop off my stuff if you want to meet up with them.”

“I don’t—not really.” He lifted a little smile. “It was pretty noisy with everyone today.”

“Not surprising. We’re a rowdy bunch.” There was a bit of an awkward pause. “Well.” I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Had my flirting skills already dried up?

“Are you thirsty?” He pointed toward the hotel bar.

“No.”

“Hungry?”

“Starving, actually. I always lose weight when I visit my sister. It’s a nonstop obstacle course.”

Nick laughed and slid one hand in his pocket. “Sounds fun. We should have gone with you. Over here.” He led me toward a couch sectional in the corner of the dim and deserted breakfast dining room. “We can have room service delivered here, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds great. I was dreading going out tonight, too. Just a little.”

“Maybe we both needed a night off.” We sat, separated, each of us on our own couch.

Nick’s blue eyes seemed even brighter today. They squinted a little whenever he smiled at me, making me feel warm and…wanted.
Forgive yourself
, Krikit had said.
Give yourself permission to be happy with someone else
. I deserved happiness. I deserved someone who smiled at me—and not just in rearview mirrors. Someone who made me feel warm and waited for me in the hotel lobby under deer antlers.

Thirty minutes later, I was finishing my first half of a turkey wrap while Nick polished off a California club. Still tan from his recent trip to Miami, he’d been telling me how his job flew him from sporting event to sporting event, depending on which he covered for the paper. Sounded glamorous, particularly to someone who was lucky to take two minutes during working hours to look out a window at the foggy bay.

I learned about his family in Omaha. His sisters and his dogs. The summer he backpacked through Italy. As the hours ticked by, and we both reclined, our heads slid to the touching ends of our respective couches, only two armrests apart. He asked about my job and life. It felt nice to talk to someone who seemed interested.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when a blue fingernailed hand touched my shoulder.

Meghan hovered over our heads, grinning. “Well, well. What are you guys doing out here?”

“Nothing.” I sat up and smoothed my shirt. Oliver and Sarah stood under the deer antler chandelier. The way Oliver’s eyes were fixed on me gave me the strangest feeling, like I’d been caught doing something inappropriate. “I got in late. We were hanging out.”

“Late?” Meghan arched an eyebrow. “Rach, it’s one a.m.”

Nick was on his feet, too, rubbing the side of his face that had been mushed into the couch. “Rachel was keeping me company since neither of us wanted to fight the, uh, traffic.” He talked to them while looking at me. The twinkle in his eyes made me giddy, like we were in on a secret.

As I fell asleep that night, I had to keep forcing myself to picture how Nick had smiled at me when we’d been waiting for the elevator to take us all up to our rooms, instead of how tense Oliver’s shoulders seemed as he left us to take the stairs.