Page 11 of The Right Time

Adrienne: I hope you feel the same. Get to your interview. Companies frown on lateness. We’ll catch up later—we have the rest of our lives. B2B4eva.

I glance at the corner of the screen, and she’s right. I only have two minutes to check in. I type back.

Me: B2B4eva.

Back-to-back forever—a commitment we made in high school to always have each other’s backs. We were in our secret-code phase, embedding secret messages to each other in what at the time we thought were uncrackable codes.

I go to stuff the phone back in my pocket when a tingle races down my spine—codes? I scroll back to her text to me from yesterday. The password to her internet—A&LBack2_GetHer. How could I not see it before? The underscore, the separation of the last two words, an embedded clue that skimmed over my super-excited head, just happy to be back in Mesa.

The clue was hidden in plain sight—GetHer. Get her. Is Adrienne dropping clues that she wants to be more than friends? Is she going through what I’m feeling?

If she is, then why did she ask me to go out with her friend just a few hours later? And worst still, why is she going on a date with Trent tonight?

Chapter Seven

Adrienne

Istare through the tiny binoculars out my bedroom window and pinch my brow. Three small penlights sit on Lucas’ windowsill. Not one—meaning yes/good news; not two—no/bad news; but three—maybe/whatever. I knew he went into the interview with mixed feelings, but I didn’t think he’d leave the same way.

Lucas worries about his family and their finances. The Hobbses have the biggest hearts in all of Mesa. They’re the first to contribute to a charity drive, a school fundraiser, church donation, you name it. They put everyone else first. Lucas shared with me on a rare rainy day in high school how his parents had put off their retirement savings for decades to pay for their house and take care of family back in Jamaica.

They mention none of this, but with a small retirement nest egg, they’re risk-averse. Both of his parents still work at the first jobs they landed when they arrived in Mesa when Lucas was eight years old. The city continues to grow, and new opportunities exist everywhere, but they won’t risk stepping out of the security of the known. This is why his dad lined up a safe desk job close to home for Lucas, even though the position doesn’t carry any of his areas of interest. What they don’t know is that Lucas turned down two perfectly suited consulting jobs with prestigious firms offered during on-campus interviews because they were based back east and involved travel. He feels a need to be close and take care of the family that has always been there for him.

My phone buzzes—Jasmine’s Uber is pulling up to the house. I tap a reply and steal another glance at the text exchange I had with Lucas after I spotted the three light bulbs in the window.

BND: not much to discuss, pretty much what I feared. I nearly fell asleep in the interview as they described the job. Let’s act like it never happened. Trent is ridiculously excited for his date with you.

I shake my head and hop down the stairs two at a time. Why am I going through with this? Jasmine can be very persuasive, but she’s not the first woman to try to get their hands on Lucas. I’ve played wingman for Lucas in high school and have watched him from my window go out on dates a dozen times.

He’s done the same for me. A blown kiss from his window when I got picked up. A humorous GIF waiting for me the minute my date pulled from the drop-off curb that evening. Lucas climbing through my window five minutes later as we stayed up and shared jokes throughout the evening. No man I ever went out with could measure up to the boy next door, and I think he knew it.

But today feels different.

I’ve always been protective of Lucas but rarely jealous. I’m not sure if it’s because of the whirlwind of emotions that have built to a crescendo with him returning home or because I fear Jasmine stands a chance?

I flip open the door at the same moment Jasmine emerges from the car service. She has ignored every piece of advice I’ve given her.

Great.

Jasmine is wearing a Saturday night guys-are-going-to-buy-me drinks, short, pleated blue-and-grey checkered skirt that barely covers her assets. Her long bare legs are on full display. Her calf muscles pop even from this distance because of the ridiculously high, six-inch, thin, impractical heels on her feet. She’s offset this obvious attempt for attention with a barely there creamsicle-orange tank top. Orange. My favorite color. The one Lucas has shared is also his favorite color. Once again, she took notes when I spoke of Lucas.

Jasmine holds a matching checkered clutch under her armpit as she approaches on shaky legs. She’s wearing more makeup than I’ve ever seen on her before, and her long, usually straight black hair flows over her shoulders in curly waves that scream trying too hard.

She’s gone through with the threat to garnish her hair with a flower, the red rose not matching any part of her outfit. She sticks her arms out to the side and performs an awkward spin. When she stops in front of me seeking an endorsement, I notice she’s wearing a strapless push-up bra, her chest appearing twice its normal size.

Lucas is a prize, and it will take someone taking a bold swing to capture him, but Jasmine has whiffed in every area.

“Where are your glasses?” I ask, afraid that she might have had Lasik just for the date.

She taps her clutch before following me back into the house. “They don’t go with the outfit, and besides, my gut tells me Lucas would prefer to stare directly into my eyes all night. I want nothing to get in my way.”

“Including clothes,” I mumble. The creaks of the steps hide my brilliant retort, one that would have Lucas doubled over if he were here.

Guys are visual creatures, and most guys our age would devour a woman dressed like Jasmine. But Lucas isn’t most guys. He’s like no other guy in the world. He values authenticity and courage. He’d rather spend time with a person in dirty sneakers and ripped jeans speaking passionately about a topic near and dear to their heart than someone trying to be something they’re not. I’ve seen him ice out the head cheerleader when she made a flippant remark about a classmate’s knockoff handbag. I’ve seen him sit in the middle of the high school cafeteria with the debate club and challenge them on more than one occasion.

“Are you wearing that?” Jasmine’s question is filled with disapproval as we reach my bedroom. I’m wearing a simple pink shirt filled with white daisies. I have a matching daisy on my dresser for my hair. I’ve paired it with a comfortable pair of tight, high-waist neon green chinos. It’s a practical outfit that will go the distance. I’ve been out with Lucas enough times to know we could wind up anywhere and be out all night if the mood strikes.

“Yeah,” I bite back and realize how I sound. “Remember, my date is only here for a week or two. This isn’t a love connection for me. Not like you, who has come in guns blazing.”

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