I had found mine, but we were in a weird place right now. This place where it was like I had lost her, but I had her at the same time. We had breached that first barrier and talked to each other again after the time apart. It was obvious we had things to clear up between us, and I w
as counting on seeing her again so we could talk.
I didn't tell Don that because he didn't get it. He'd just encourage me that pussy was all the same, and if you fucked the girl from behind, you could pretend you were with anyone you wanted.
I left after one more beer; sandy blonde waitress wouldn't get off for another half hour, and Don decided to wait for her so they could leave together.
That shit was so foreign to me. I hadn't tried to pick a girl up since before Ron and I had gotten together. Even with her, I had had to flirt and get her to like me, but it had been sort of easy. We had been on the same campus every day, not this shit, picking up strangers in bars. If anything, good for him for not going home alone tonight. I knew I was. Maybe this next girl would be the one who locked him down, but I wasn't holding my breath.
I texted Tiffany when I got to my car. She got back to me right away. I went home first, but I was heading out immediately. I had a delivery to make. Meeting people when you were still at school was easy. You kind of had this pool of people that you saw all the time that you could take your pick from; it hadn't been hard shooting my shot with Ron.
Things were different now. I had to try. I knew what I wanted, but I understood her pushback. I had to let her come to me. I had to make it safe again.
Her new place wasn't that far from where her old one had been, same area in town, close to school. She lived two floors up in 3C. I put the box down and walked away. She was probably home. If I tried her door, she would probably open it up. It was tempting, but I had to take a step back and let her do what she needed to do. I walked out of her building and drove home. She'd see it tomorrow morning.
Chapter Twelve
Veronica
I put my purse over my shoulder, looking through it to make sure I had thrown the list of books I needed to get in there. The cheapest one on the list was a cool $200. I only had to purchase two, the others I could short loan from the library, but textbook costs were no joke. Education costs, in general, were no joke but hey, it was supposed to be an investment, right?
Right.
I had half a mind to buy the books, copy my reading material, then return then to the bookstore when I was done. I walked out the door of my apartment, still rifling through my purse. I stopped when my foot kicked something hard. I looked down, slipping my purse strap back up onto my shoulder. I frowned picking up the box in front of me, looking for a name or apartment number, something that would tell me it wasn't put in front of my door by accident.
There was nothing on it. It wasn't taped up or anything the way boxes came in the mail. I could just lift the lid and see whether there was anything inside it. I mean, it had been on my doorstep, chances were it was for me.
I lifted the lid outside my apartment, just in case. Inside was a single sheet of paper. I took it out, putting the box on the floor. Handwriting in blue ink covered one side of the sheet; a man's writing, if I had to guess – not messy, but not really fine calligraphy, either.
Ron, after all this time, you're still my favorite person to see on a Saturday night. There was something there, and I want to know that you felt it, too. Apologizing for what I did will never be enough. I'll be at our spot every day at noon, ready whenever you are.
It was mine. I knew it was the first word I read. I knew who had sent it, too, even though he hadn't signed his name. I took the box and note inside, leaving them on an end table before heading out again. I didn't want this right now. I was busy. Not only that, I had moved on.
A whole year later after he dumped me for a bullshit reason he could have avoided, and now he wanted to talk. I was pissed getting into my car. It wasn't fair.
Maybe I wasn't as over him as I’d thought that I was since all it had taken to plunge me back into my feelings was him showing up again, but honestly, I had been at least some of the way there. I had made some progress – had started seeing other guys, moved into a new place which he shouldn't have had the address to, gotten my shit together and moved on with my life. This was selfish. He wanted to show up again after a year and act like after what he did, he still had a right to my time.
My annoyance must have been apparent on my face because the man who sold me my textbooks told me to smile, it was summer and a pretty girl like me shouldn't be feeling so down. It wasn't fair. Roman couldn't talk about things like “our spot” anymore. He couldn't drag me back to that place where I had thought everything was good between us because obviously, things hadn't been as good as I had thought.
Peeved, I called Tiffany to see if she was home. I liked living alone but I could see the advantage of staying at home and at times, specifically when rent was due at my place, I envied her a little for staying with her dad.
When I arrived, she yelled at me from inside the house to let myself in. She had been in the kitchen putting groceries away from the shopping trip she had just come home from. I had had breakfast, but I didn't turn down the coffee she offered when she joined me in the living room.
I had never met her mom, but there were signs of her all around the house. Pictures of her on the walls with the rest of the family, carefully placed art and decor that were an obvious woman's touch. Buying a couple ferns for my apartment was cool, but I was looking forward to the day I had a home that I could make into whatever kind of space that I wanted, once I found the right person to share it with.
"Busy morning?" I asked Tiff.
"Dad's got a thing about online shopping. He feels like you have to be in the store to inspect your item before you bring it home," she huffed. She had been trying to get her father to let her get groceries delivered to the house, but he wasn't comfortable with a person he didn't know or trust picking his food out for him.
"Tell him it's just like UPS," I suggested.
"He knows that. He's just stubborn."
"I bet he just does it to make you pay your way," I joked.
"I'd believe that. Neither of us is home most of the day, though, so I guess he sort of has a point, especially when summer session starts up."
"I wish I had been half as dedicated as you when I was a sophomore. Maybe I'd be graduating already."