Page 71 of The Very First Night

THIRTY-THREE

KAT

If I keep pacing at this rate, I very well might end up wearing away a line straight down the middle of my bedroom into the hardwood floor. It’s been two hours since dinner and Tanner and I have yet to discuss last night.

I don’t necessarily expect him to bring it up as polite dinner conversation, but I did expect him to want to talk. I heard him come up to his room about half an hour ago and he has yet to text, knock on my door, anything—so I do what any person who is pathologically opposed to conflict does: I pace back and forth instead of walking the measly few feet from my bedroom to his.

What if he regrets saying anything about it? What if last night confirmed to him that the idea of being intimate with me sounds far more appealing in theory than in reality? Or—worst-case scenario—what if he was kidding and I attempted to jump his bones all over a joke between friends?

Did I manage to ruin our friendship beyond repair because I simply couldn’t keep it in my fucking pants?!

The thought leaves me reeling as I find my feet moving of their own volition toward Tanner’s room, not a single thought in my brain outside of wanting clarity on what is going on. The longer I’m left to my own devices, the further I feel myself slowly slipping into insanity.

Without even knocking, I barrel through the door to his bedroom.

As I step inside, my eyes take in the bare light gray walls and stacks of boxes in the corner. It’s clear that he hasn’t fully settled into his room quite yet. The sheets on his bed are a faded heather gray, with textbooks strewn about haphazardly. A faint scent of laundry detergent hangs in the air.

Tanner sits in the middle of his bed with his textbooks arranged in front of him. He scribbles notes onto a spiral-bound notebook with a mechanical pencil. Gone are the dark-wash jeans and old faded polo he wore down to dinner, replaced with low-slung jet-black sweatpants and…nothing else. My eyes linger on the sight, momentarily forgetting why I came in the first place.

When his eyes meet mine, his face morphs from the stressed expression of someone studying for a high-level class their senior year of college to the smile of a man genuinely delighted to see the person who just walked in. At least, that’s what I want to believe I’m looking at.

I walk up to the edge of his bed, on a war path.

“Hey, you,” he chirps, and I instantly thaw.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking right now. I had all these things I wanted to say, and yet I’m standing in front of him with what I can only assume is the dumbest expression known to man on my face.

“Nothing. I—uh…what are you doing?” I ask.

He glances up at me with tired yet hopeful eyes. “Just trying to get ahead on my homework,” he says, gesturing to the pile of books. “But I have some time before my next class on Tuesday.” He tilts his head to the side as he asks, “Do you want to hang out? We can binge-watch Always Sunny.”

It’s as if nothing happened yesterday—as if I didn’t all but throw myself at him less than twenty-four hours ago.

I feel self-conscious under his scrutiny, but manage to respond, “Sounds good.”

He packs up his textbooks, closing them without even grabbing a bookmark or dog-earing the pages. Once he’s cleared the bed of any obstacles, I climb up, noticing he hasn’t rolled out a comforter yet, no doubt because up until today the weather has been balmy at best and smoldering at worst.

Crossing my legs underneath me, I settle against the headboard as he turns on It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. It starts to play one of the show’s eccentric but entertaining cold opens, this one involving Frank and Charlie getting into yet another crazy scenario.

“I love this one,” Tanner says, his attention entirely on the show.

We stay like that, focused on the forty-five-inch flat-screen TV sitting atop his dresser, following along as Dee’s antics cause her to be left out by the core group of guys yet again.

“Serves her right,” I chuckle.

“Wait, why? All she’s asking is to be a part of their scheme. Don’t forget, one of them is her brother—she just wants to feel included.”

I feel a sting in my chest at his words, not because they are harsh or rude, or even left up to interpretation, but because my mind instantly goes to Patrick. The brother I could have if I wanted; the brother I have never met. Is it worth pursuing a relationship with him at almost twenty-two years old, or has the ship sailed since our most formative years have come and gone?

“I think I’m going to write Patrick back,” I blurt out.

Tanner nods, still staring across the room at the television, but it’s quite obvious his attention isn’t wholly on the screen anymore. He reaches for the remote and hits pause, then lays on his side, facing me. “What made you decide that?” he asks.

“Honestly, I didn’t fully decide until right now,” I say. “I don’t know, I just feel like I’ll spend the rest of my life questioning what it would be like to know him if I don’t.”

---