Page 35 of Told You So
“Yeah, well, we never decided on a time—”
“Because you ran out of class like a crazy person,” I reminder her, and lean my palms against the counter.
“And,” she continues, “I wasn’t sure you’d even show up after last night.” She says it with a little bit of humility, so I let it go.
Bethany drops her bag on the sectional and peers around my dark apartment before she walks over to the window. With a quick tug, my navy drapes are open, light brightening the living room, and she sighs. “Now it doesn’t feel like I’m on How to Catch a Predator,” she mutters.
“Wow. Please, make yourself at home. By all means...”
Bethany looks at me, her eyes shifting over my body. “Not that I have anything against half-naked men, but do you mind?”
I glance down at my pajamas, or mostly lack thereof. “I was hoping to sleep in a bit longer, but clearly that’s a pipe dream.” I take another swig of my coffee, in no rush to make her feel more comfortable, and set it on the counter before I disappear into my bedroom.
“So,” I call into the living room, “I take it we’re working here this morning?” I hear a zipper and crumpling papers.
“If you don’t mind,” she says. “Since we’re already here.”
I pull a fresh t-shirt over my head. “How did you know where I live, anyway? Do you stalk me or something?”
“Yeah, I have been for years.” She says it so nonchalantly, I have to laugh. “Brady told me,” she amends. “He owed me a favor.”
“That sounds intriguing.”
“It’s not. I introduced him to my dad so he could get some investment advice,” she explains.
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know,” she mutters.
“Yeah, like what?”
“Ginger tea and a shot of whiskey.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Something you don’t know about me,” she explains, but I’m still confused.
“Okay...Care to add any context to that?”
I hear her rustling around in the living room. “Hangovers—it’s what I take for hangovers.”
“Ah, got it.” I finish dressing in silence, not wanting to bring up last night again. After I brush my teeth and run my fingers through my hair, I head back into the living room. She’s sitting on my couch with neatly stacked piles of books and notecards spread out in front of her. She looks like she belongs there with her legs folded under her and her hair in a knot on top of her head.
A rush of gratitude washes over me, seeing her in my apartment, and I quickly fill the silence. “Better?” I ask, gesturing to my more appropriate attire.
Her mouth tilts in the corner and her pewter eyes meet mine. “It’s an improvement.”
Seventeen
Bethany
Nick’s eyes linger on mine a bit longer than I’m comfortable with, so I’m forced to fill the silence. “Nice place, by the way.”
“Thanks.” He drops his notebook onto the other side of the sectional.
His apartment is a total bachelor’s pad, complete with a mountain bike hanging on the wall, dirty boots, and a cowboy hat by the door. I like the grays and browns that color his apartment, though—they’re subtle and sleek, yet still masculine. “Did your mom help you decorate?” The rug beneath his dinette table catches my attention. Its black and white geometric trellis shapes add a bit of noise to all the drab.
“Is it that obvious?” The Nick-ness of his voice is gone, and when I look at him, so is the brilliance of his eyes. It’s clear I’ve hit a nerve.
