Page 48 of She Used to Be Nice
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Noah?”
Avery swallowed. “Yes.”
“You know, I saw him on her Story last night and had the same thought.” Morgan took out her phone to play an Instagram video of Blair and Noah at a sushi restaurant. Rows of sashimi were splayed out on the table, and a bottle of white wine sat in a cooler. The next slide was a picture of Blair and Noah standing outside the restaurant. Blair was facing him with her hand flat on his chest and her leg flicked out behind her, and they were kissing.
“Looks like it,” Morgan said. Horrifyingly, it sounded like she approved. “Good for her! Cute, smart, and rich. Very nice catch.”
Avery rubbed her eyes so hard that she saw stars, trying to make the images go away. She couldn’t believe she was the only person who knew the unspeakable things Noah was capable of andhad to continue keeping her mouth shut until the wedding. She was suddenly struck by a loneliness that penetrated bone deep.
“What, are you jealous?” Morgan asked.
Avery shot daggers from her eyes. “Absolutely not.”
The subway pulled to a slow stop. Avery bolted out of the car, with Morgan trailing behind.
“If you were interested in him, you could’ve told me!” Morgan called out as they hustled down the street. “I would’ve given you dibs.”
Avery kept making rapid, determined strides forward, almost knocking over an elderly woman carrying grocery bags in her effort to be out of earshot of Morgan’s asinine comments. She only stopped when she approached the front door of Morgan’s apartment building, at which point Morgan caught up and flicked her eyes to Avery, waiting for a response.
“Morgan, I am nowhere near interested in Noah,” Avery snapped. “Things with Pete have picked up, actually.”
Dammit, she thought. It just slipped out.
But if Noah and Blair could find love, two people who were nightmarish in their own unique ways, why couldn’t Avery? Did Avery honestly think she was more unlovable thanthosetwo?
“Really?” Morgan asked.
Avery studied Morgan’s sparkling eyes, the upturned corners of her lips, the rush of color on her cheeks. There was no turning back. Morgan was already writing Pete’s name next to Avery’s in black permanent marker on the Brooklyn Botanic Garden seating chart.
“Yeah!” Avery smiled warily at her lie. Well, half lie. Things hadsort ofstarted picking up with Pete, in that maybe they were going to be each other’s booty calls. But then she’d kicked him out of her apartment. All because he liked her for more than her body. Because he wanted to get to know her as a person—the thing most sane women longed for after a few dates. What a crime, for him to be so normal.
“Wait, how did this happen?” Morgan asked. “I thought he didn’t have your number.”
“Well, he didn’t. Then I ran into him in SoHo and now he’s … got my number, I guess.” Avery flashed an uncertain smile.
“Wow, this city is so tiny.” Morgan squeezed Avery’s arm excitedly. “I’m so happy for you! We should double date! I bet Charlie would love to see him again. This is so promising for the wedding!”
Avery laughed. “Slow your roll on that one. I gotta see how things develop first.”
“I get it, I get it. Like I said, Pete’s invite is up to you.” Morgan grinned with all her teeth. “But I’m remaining hopeful.”
As they made their way through Morgan’s foyer and stepped onto the elevator, Avery realized she could deny it no longer. She wanted to be with Pete. He’d gotten under her skin, like that dark dot of lead that buried underneath you after you accidentally stabbed yourself with a pencil in elementary school. It might’ve hurt going in, but now it was there forever as a part of you, like a new birthmark. A new beginning. A fresh start.
She took a deep breath and texted him.
15
TWO DAYS WENT BYwithout a reply from Pete.
On the third day, after putting together some admittedly sloppy traffic reports for Patricia, Avery took a stroll outside and stopped at a small gated park by her office, where a teenager with a handlebar mustache passionately played the saxophone and pigeons congregated around an old woman feeding them breadcrumbs from a plastic baggie. Avery flinched as she walked past the pigeons vigorously ruffling their feathers to sit down on a bench far away. Then she stared at the text she’d sent to Pete:hey i’m sorry for being weird this weekend. can i buy you a drink to make it up to you? totally understand if you hate me and never wanna see me again, but i figured i’d give it a shot
She tightened her grip on her phone, like if she squeezed hard enough those three little dots would pop up. But the screen remained agonizingly blank. She was starting to lose hope. She wasn’t clueless enough to think Pete lost his phone or was too busy with work or whatever people say to convince themselves they weren’t getting rejected. She knew he was ignoring her. She almost didn’t want her phone to buzz again because she knew it wouldn’t be Pete. It would just be someone else, or worse, one of those phantom vibrations that only come when you’re waiting for a text, and she’d have to relive the disappointment all over again.
Defeated, she spent the next few minutes listening numbly to the saxophone player before dragging herself back to her office building. The doorman didn’t say hello to her, nor had he acknowledged her at all over the past few days. He was always nicer to her when she looked pretty. Lately, though, the dark circles under her eyes were extra deep and pronounced, and she came to work in a greasy bun and no makeup, which basically meant she was invisible.
“Do you think your pattern here isn’t obvious?” she asked, pointing to her face. “Honestly? Do you?”
The doorman’s eyes darted left and right. “Huh? Miss, what are you talking about?”
