Page 41 of We Met Like This
The era of Margot. The era of Margot.
I had repeated that phrase multiple times throughout the day. And now, home again, changing out of my work attire and into my lounge attire, I repeated it again, hyping myself up for the phone call I was about to make.
Positive vibes.“I’m going to celebrate big-time on Friday, Universe, because I’m getting this promotion,” I said out loud.
I didn’t know why I was nervous to call Oliver. Maybe it was just that I was proposing a change in our dynamic. We hadn’t tried to meet each other again for three years. He had been on the same date I was; what made me think Oliver even wanted to hang out? I had my complaints about him, but I was sure he had some about me too. After all, he’d had every opportunity to initiate something like this. He hadn’t.
I moved the stack of clothes off the overstuffed chair in the corner of my room and onto my bed and took a seat. These weren’t positive thoughts. These were the exact opposite.
I shook out my hands but my nerves stayed firmly intact. I pushed the call button next to his name and held my breath. His phone rang several times before it went to voicemail. I disconnected the call and typed out a text instead.I need a midday celebration partner Friday. You in?
I paced my bedroom for several lengths, then picked up the book on my nightstand and carried it back to the chair. I turned to my spot near the back and read the same line a dozen times but still had no idea what I’d read.
“Lord Leopold, do your job,” I muttered to my book.
My phone buzzed from where it had settled between my thigh and the chair and I let out a surprised yelp. In my attempt to pick it up, my book tumbled to the floor. “Hello,” I answered as I scrambled to rescue the lord from his page-bending, open-faced landing.
“Hi,” the deep voice of Oliver sounded. “You okay?”
That was the second time he’d sensed my distraction from just my voice. “Fine, yes, just dropped my book, hello.”
He chuckled. “I got your text. What are we celebrating?”
“Does that make a difference?” I asked, curious.
“Sure. Puppy murder, house fires, cavities. Out. Anything else, probably in.”
I laughed, but responded, “Cavities are on the same level as puppy murder and house fires?”
“I didn’t rank them.”
I pulled my feet up onto the chair with me, my nerves from before squelched. My eyes narrowed in on my work shoes, laying sideways by the bed where I had just discarded them. “Shit. I stepped in gum earlier.”
“That doesn’t seem like something to celebrate.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll have to find someone else to celebrate with me.”
“I hear ice and/or peanut butter works for removing gum.”
“Did you minor in gum-removing techniques in college?”
“Yes, UCLA is known for that program.”
“You went to UCLA? My sister went there. Maybe you knew her,” I deadpanned. “You probably ran together.”
“It’s true, all the people who ran at UCLA knew each other,” he said, returning my sarcasm.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Oh, and real celebration: I’m getting my dream job on Friday! Apparently, the universe requires positive energy or it takes things away… according to Sloane.”
“You did it? You faced your fear?”
I had forgotten I’d told him about being afraid to go after the promotion. “Almost. Friday.”
“This is way better than animal cruelty or house fires.”
“What about cavities?”
“Slightly better than cavities.”
