Page 3 of Heartstrings & Horizons
Cade: I guess I could see why you would think that.
Cade: Your profile says UofT, so I assumed it meant the University of Tennessee.
Well, this is awkward.While I’m fairly certain this conversation is dead on arrival, I respond anyway. It can’t possibly get any worse.
Paige: Shit, that’s embarrassing. Please forget this ever happened. In fact, just forget me entirely.
I have a tendency to ramble when the anxiety comes out to play. My heart is beating out of my chest, my stomach is in knots, and my face is overheating with every second that ticks by without a response. It feels like a million tiny insects are crawling over my skin. Logically, I know that my physical response to embarrassment is irrational, but at this point in my life, it’s a conditioned response and nobody ever said anxiety is rooted in reality. In my head, everybody hates me and I’m fighting an uphill battle.
“Who's got you blushing like that?” I hear Mags call from across the room, jolting me out of my mental spiral.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I respond, spinning around in a quest to hide the evidence, ultimately failing to find an adequate place to hide my phone.
“Yeah no, spill the beans, babe.”
“I’d much rather crawl into a hole and die,” I deadpan.
Maggie rounds the island, reaching for my phone just as another notification appears on my screen. In the scuffle, my phone is sent careening to the hardwood and I’m just praying it survives the crash. I snatch it off the floor, inspecting it for any damage. It appears completely unscathed — unlike my pride — and another notification appears.
“Oh my god…it’s the app! Let me see!” Mags screeches, as she makes another desperate attempt to snatch my phone out of my hand.
“No, Mags, please.” I’m utterly mortified at this point. “I promise, you don’t want the secondhand embarrassment it’ll cause you.”
“Nope. This is fucking adorable. You can tell your grandkids about this someday,” she says, as she scrolls through the messages.
I scoff. Over my dead body. I escape into the living room with Maggie hot on my heels.
We live in a beautiful 3 story house in The Beaches neighborhood of Toronto, a stone's throw away from downtown. Maggie’s dad is a big wig CEO, and he bought the house at the end of our 1st year of university. They decked it out with the finest furnishings Ikea has to offer, including each of the bedrooms on the 2nd floor and a shared study space where a formal dining room would normally be.
There’s a quaint garden in the backyard just off the small porch, perfect for my morning coffee and a good book.
But by far my favorite thing about this house is the giantclawfoot soaker tub in the main bathroom — it’s an absolute dream and I’ve found myself drifting off into vivid daydreams amongst the bubbles more than once since I moved in.
“Come on, Paige, this is so sweet. You have to see this.”
“Paige? There’s no Paige here. I’m going to change my name and join the circus. Do you think I could grow a beard? I’m definitely not cut out for any acrobatics, but I could add ‘freak show’ to my resume.”
Maggie all but shoves my phone in my face. “You’re being ridiculous. Look.”
Cade: I don’t think I’ll be able to forget you, Sunshine.
Cade: You’re already living rent free in my head.
Sunshine? Did this guy just give me a nickname? Did I like it?
I snatch my phone back from my bestie, typing and deleting my response several times over, before I finally muster up the courage to hit send.
Paige: Sunshine? Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before.
Cade: Maybe your boyfriend needs to get more creative.
Paige: The only boyfriends I have are fictional.
Cade: Noted.
I pause, unsure of how to respond. Is he flirting with me? Do I want him to flirt with me? Just when my mind has started the all too familiar anxiety induced merry-go-round of thoughts, my phone chimes with yet another message.
Cade: So… are you from Tennessee?
