Page 33 of Friendshipped
I grab my phone to call Rob.
“Hey,” he answers.
“I’m going nuts over here.”
“What’s up?”
“Lexi’s going out with some goon who just picked her up in a ’vette. I need a distraction.”
“Come on over,” Rob says. “I’m in the garage trying to figure out methods for making instant ice.”
I feel a reluctant smile creep over my face despite the fact that Lexi is driving away with another man. Time with Rob will be the perfect diversion tonight.
After two hours at Rob’s house during which I alternate between pacing, checking the time on my phone, resisting texting Lexi, and actually helping Rob with his experiments, I drive back home.
Yes, I want to beat Lexi back to our house so I can be there when the human Dorito brings her home.
Pitch darkness shrouds our house as I pull up and park. I come up with a plan and gather a few things from the garage at the end of the driveway. I set everything on the porch and walk into my front room. Turning on the TV with a low volume, I wait like a dad on prom night, my ears attuned to the sounds outside my partially cracked open front door.
About forty-one minutes pass. I’m estimating. I didn’t compulsively check the clock instead of watching the reruns of the Office playing on my TV.
Who am I kidding? Even Dwight blastingEverybody Hurtsby R.E.M. didn’t pull my attention away from the time as the minutes bled into almost three total hours Lexi was out with this guy.
I hear the car from down the street. It has to be them, so I jump from the couch, step out the door, put on my work gloves and grab my premeditated pair of garden shears from the porch.
It’s dark out, but I start casually trimming the bushes as Hank’s Corvette pulls to a stop in front of our house.
I gradually turn, holding the shears in front of me with the tip at face level.
Lexi gets out of the passenger door on her own. The orange ogre couldn’t even bother to open her door? I see his face through the window of his car. His eyebrows are drawn together and he’s squinting to see me. I wave in his direction, showing him some old-fashioned Bordeaux hospitality.
Minor detail: I wave with the shears.
Lexi comes toward me. She holds her flat palm toward me in the air like a crossing guard. “Don’t. Just don’t,” she says as she pulls her keys from her purse.
“Lex?”
“Please, Trevor. Let’s debrief after I’ve had some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow for our drive to work.”
She walks into the house and I breathe out a long exhale. She’s home. Hank didn’t seem to kiss her goodnight. Pulling off my gloves, I take the shears back to the garage and let myself in the back door. I know I can’t stalk each date. I’m going to have to come up with another game plan eventually, but at least I made it through tonight.
My fingers itch to text Lexi to check up on her, but she said she needed space, so I’m giving it.
The next morning I’m sitting with the windshield wipers beating rhythmically while rain pelts down on my car. It’s relatively cool in the early mornings these days even though it will be hotter by midday. Lexi’s running a little late, but I’m not stressing. We’ve still got plenty of time to make it to work before Jeanette considers us tardy.
Lexi’s front door pops open and she comes barreling down the steps wearing rain boots, a raincoat and carrying an umbrella. She runs around to the passenger door and gets in, attempting to shake the water off her umbrella before stashing it behind her seat.
“Sooo?” I ask.
Lexi gives me a side-eye.
“I need coffee first,” she says.
“Done,” I say, handing her a cup of her favorite vanilla latte I picked up ten minutes ago at Bean There Done That.
“You got me coffee,” she says with one hand over her heart and her eyelashes batting at me. “My hero!”
She takes a sip and sighs.
