I gulp and shake my head, giggling. “That is so not what I need right now.”
“So maybe I should take you back to my place and convince you.”
“He said what?!” Jenna shouts at me, her palms slapping the table and making the whole thing shake. “Say that one more time so I can process it.”
I’ve just recounted the Starbucks exchange to girls, who were already gathered in my kitchen when I got home. I kind of felt guilty spilling the beans to the entire group before talking about it privately with Molly first, but… Jenna was so persistent when I walked in the door that I really didn’t have much of a choice.
“He said he didn’t want to leave here without me.”
“Without you. By. His. Side,” Jenna says slowly, emphasizing each word. “Let’s all take a moment of silence to let that sink in, shall we? No one say anything. In fact, maybe we should all bow our heads.”
We all look around at each other, smirking, as Jenna bows her head, long earrings grazing her collarbone. She squishes her eyes shut, then opens one to make sure we’re all observing the ritual.
“Come on you guys, this is a momentous occasion! Give it the respect it deserves!”
Abby snorts. “I am not bowing my head, you weirdo.”
“Hey. Just be lucky she didn’t make us all hold hands,” Molly intones dryly. “But seriously Cecelia, what are you going to do?”
I throw up my arms, exasperated. “Nothing. I mean, it’s crazy. I can’t move to California! I hate California! Besides, I don’t even know if we’re dating. I mean, it’s crazy, right? I’d be nuts to consider it.”
I scoff, making a few pfft sounds and everyone is staring at me like I’ve gone off the deep end - but I’m on a roll and can’t stop the verbal diarrhea. “I barely know him. We’ve been out once. It’s almost seventeen hundred miles. I can’t leave my family to follow a guy! That’s what I’d be doing, right? Following a guy? It’s pathetic, who does that? I can’t stand girls who do that. Get a backbone! Anyways, it’s crazy. My parents would kill me! I’m a grown woman for craps sake. I can’t move. I have a life here.” I stop rambling and look around the table at Molly, Abby, and Jenna’s smug faces. “What?”
“Do you know what you sound like?” Abby asks, crossing her arms.
“Um… what?”
“Like you’re trying to convince yourself it’s a bad idea.”
“It is a bad idea,” I shout, latching on to the concept. “My cousin Stephanie moved with a guy to Florida once. He ditched her as soon as they got there, locked her out of their apartment and she had to take a bus home. So there.”
“Yeah, but wasn’t the guy in some grunge band who, like, cheated on her constantly to begin with?” Abby asks skeptically.
“Whose side are you on?” My brown eyes narrow at her.
“No ones. I’m just saying. It’s not like Matthew has a normal job. If he wants to be with you, he has to ask you to go with him, Cece. Think about it. He’s a freaking professional athlete, not some normal twenty-five year old trying to make it in an entry level job. He travels for a living.”
“Thank you, Abby,” Molly says, smiling. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.” Then she turns her attention on me. “Cece, I’m all about you doing what you think is best. But what Abby’s saying is Matthew isn’t normal, and dating him isn’t going to be normal, and… It is what it is. I’m sorry, but this brand of crazy is how it’s got to be. He needs someone who’s a definite in-or-out. When Weston gets drafted – god willing – if he’s going to be in my life, I’m going to have to make the same sacrifice all partners of pro athletes make. You move. You hop on a plane and go. It’s a lonely life for them on the road; their bodies get beat up, fans go crazy. They get traded to one city after the next. They need someone stable in their hectic, messed-up lives.”
“The fact that we’re even having this conversation is fucked up,” I say, the curse slipping out before I can censor myself. “Is everyone forgetting the fact that we barely know each other?”
Jenna rolls her eyes. “Oh give me a break. The two of you have been going at it since the day you met. We know it, Matthew knows it, and you know it. So stop fooling yourself because you’re scared.”
“So what if I’m scared?” I throw back. “In fact, I’m scared shitless! What if I move and he doesn’t want me anymore? What if all we do is fight? What if I can’t find a job and I sit home like some housewife, twiddling my thumbs and staring at the door every night waiting for him to come home? What if I can’t handle the groupies?”