Page 80 of Boyfriend
The future seems scary and lonely, even if I never say that out loud. Even if that’s not Weston’s fault.
“Hey, Abbi.”
I swivel to see Lauren walking into the bathroom, and I’m so tired that it hurts my eyes to move them. “Hey.”
“Congratulations on the job offers. Both of them.”
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“The Vermont one sounds better than the squicky mortgage banker.”
“Maybe,” I hedge. “It’s risky. They’re trying something new.”
“But trying new things is important.” She cocks a hip against the sink. “I know my brother freaked out a little. Weston isn’t good at this stuff. But I think he’s really into you.”
I give a slow blink, because I am just not in the right head space to discuss this with his sister. I think she’s wrong. But I don’t know what to say to shut this awkward conversation down. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She grins. “You already know how ugly things have been for my family. You saw it yourself. The next time Weston does some boneheaded thing, just remember that he’s gun-shy.”
“I’ll try,” I say. “Thanks.”
Then I leave the bathroom and go back to the table. Weston pulls my chair out for me as I arrive. He even gives me a tentative smile. Like he realizes our snit is stupid, and he’s sorry.
He’s so damn polite. He’s such a good guy.
But he’s not my good guy. And I’d better remember that.
* * *
Weston is the first to leave the restaurant, because he’s required to arrive at the arena ninety minutes before the game. He kisses me on the cheek and I wish him good luck.
“Come out to the ice cream place with us, Abbi,” Mr. Griggs says. “We can all walk over to the game together.”
“I thought I’d run home and change before the game, and leave my favorite designer bag at home,” I say instead. “Maybe I’ll see you there?”
“We’ll save you a seat,” Lauren assures me.
Leaving them behind, I head home. The February chill slices through me as I walk uphill toward my apartment. Inside, my place is freezing. So I wet the cloth and toss it up onto the thermometer valve again. It’s time to put on a pair of jeans and my Griggs sweatshirt for the game.
But I just don’t feel like it. My head is achy, and my throat is scratchy. Instead, I make a cup of mint tea and climb into bed wearing Vermont Tartan pajamas.
I honestly don’t know what to do about this sudden job offer. They want to pay me a real salary that’s about eighty percent as much as the New York job. With benefits, too. Burlington is cheaper than New York. I could move into a nicer apartment here on a smaller paycheck than I could ever afford in New York.
So it’s a great offer, but I’m still unsettled. I hadn’t pictured my future here in Vermont. I thought I’d escape to a city and start over from scratch. But that’s proving harder than I thought, when every day already feels like starting over from scratch.
Is it a sign of weakness that I’d rather walk into the tiny flannel company every day and see the faces of people who appreciate me? Does that make me smart, or does it mean I’m not ambitious?
I sip my tea, hoping the hot liquid can make me feel less confused. Less shaky and sad.
As the start time of the hockey game inches closer, I just can't make myself get up and go to the game. Thinking about Weston makes my heart ache. He told me he's not a relationship guy. He's always been up front about that. The problem is that I’m not capable of keeping up our fling without wishing for more. Does that make me a cliché? The clingy girl who agrees to be casual and secretly pines to be the one who changed his mind?
How did I let this happen?
I watch the clock. My eyes feel dry and achy. I must be overtired as well as overwhelmed. I’ve got too much on my plate.
Maybe it would be better to end things with Weston right now, on my own terms. At least without him at the forefront of my mind, I can make my job decision with cool, calculated logic. It will be my decision alone. As it always should have been.
Soon the clock tells me that it's ten minutes until the puck drops. So I pick up my phone and begin to compose a breakup text.
