Page 31 of I Blame the Alcohol

Lou nods, “That makes sense. Although he could be wanting to talk to see if you’d want to go out with him. You never know.”

Pushing myself up on my elbows, I slide further down the bed, putting some space between my face and the clump of hair.

“I highly doubt it. That would be going against his precious mentor, and that’s not something Ellsworth has ever been able to do.”

“Would Mo really be that mad if you two dated?”

I pause, “I’ve never actually thought about Mo’s reaction before. He would definitely be upset if we snuck around behind his back, but I’m not sure what he would do if we were upfront about it.”

Shooting a look at my roommate, I don’t give my heart a second drop of hope, “But that isn’t an option at this point, so there's no point in considering it.”

“Right. So, what’s your plan than?” Lou picks a piece of lint off her Green Day t-shirt and flicks it onto the ground. I try not to flinch when I see it land near the unspeakable clump.

“Mo is coming to pick me up Tuesday, so I could take the coward’s way out…” Lou’s eyes widen at my confession, one I would never act on but will dream about it until this painful encounter is over.

Not that I can complain. I was, after all, the one who kissed him.

“…butI don’t have it in me to avoid confrontation. I’m just going to get it over with, so it doesn’t fester into something worse.”

O’Brien’s don’t run away from their problems. We face them head on. Remember that, Stella.

“Guess you’ll be needing this.” Lou shuffles over and picks up my phone, taking a second to wipe God-knows what off the screen before handing it over.

“I guess so.” I grumble under my breath as I re-open the damning message.

CODY: We need to talk.

The message stares back at me as my mind goes blank.

The only thing I can think about right now is how much I don’t want to do this and how badly Lou needs to vacuum her floor.

“Shit.” I tap aggressively, hit send, then throw my phone back on the bed.

“Good job!” Lou leans over for a high five just as my phone beeps with an incoming text. We both scream, undoubtedly for very different reasons.

Lou gasps, one hand clutching her chest in fright, “That was the worst post-text celebration ever. Hashtag unsend.”

I groan, reaching back down to go through the motions all over again.

CODY: We need to talk.

ME: So, talk.

Not going to lie, that last text may have come off as a little aggressive. Probably should have added an emoji to soften the blow.

CODY: In person. Are you free tonight?

ME: I have a late workout planned. Does 7PM work?

CODY: Yup. I’ll meet you at the gym.

“So? What did he say?” Lou looks at me hopefully and I don’t have it in me to extinguish the light in her eyes.

“We’re going to talk after my gym session tonight.” I do my best to keep my voice upbeat, but it sounds fake even to my ears.

Lou gives me an encouraging thumbs up, “I will be here with a tub of ice cream and a really bad movie so you have something to look forward to.”

I give her a hug as the unspoken message hangs between us.

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