I hope you’re doing well.
Setting my phone on the table, I get out of my fold-out bed and go to the bathroom. Brush my teeth. Stare at my reflection, thankful my skin looks decent. I need to figure out what to wear on my date with Cade tonight. I want to look nice, but not like I’m trying too hard. There’s a fine line and I don’t want to cross it.
Sometimes I really hate this dating game bullshit.
I wander out into the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee with the Keurig my parents bought me two Christmases ago. I toast an everything bagel and spread too much cream cheese on top. For some reason, I’m extra clumsy this morning, and my foot slips across the floor, causing me to almost drop the plate, and everything from my everything bagel scatters across the tile.
After I sweep it up, cursing under my breath the entire time, I sit at my extremely small kitchen counter, take a bite out of my bagel, sip from my cup of coffee, and realize I am totally stalling on checking my phone, which is still sitting on my nightstand.
I dash back to the end table to get it.
And holy shit, he answered me.
Are you doing well, Mandy?
I wish he wouldn’t call me that. And I wish he wouldn’t ask loaded questions either, though I’m sure he doesn’t see it that way. I’m the one who’s being ridiculous. I’m the one who’s reading too much into this.
I’m great, I tell him after I eat half my bagel. Really busy with work.
What do you do?
I’m an assistant physical therapist at a place that specializes in sports medicine.
You’re here in the Bay Area, right? Where exactly do you work?
I chew on my lower lip, wondering if I should answer him. Why does he care?
Screw it.
Atlas Wellness Center.
He doesn’t answer me right away, so I finish the rest of my bagel and down the coffee, though I need no caffeine. I feel jittery enough. When he finally responds I can’t read it fast enough.
I know exactly where that’s at.
Of course he does.
We’ve had some professional athletes as patients, I tell him.
I hope you never see me in there. Jordan follows it with a winking face emoji.
He’s making a joke, something Jordan Tuttle doesn’t do very often. Yet I take it wrong. It feels like he’s trying to tell me he hopes he never sees me again, which is totally ridiculous. I’m reading too much into his response, I’m overthinking this entire situation.
I need to chill.
We start talking about the Inside Football episode, and he’s very modest, not making a big deal about it. I tell him Dustin feels famous because of the class photo they showed and he says Dustin should hit him up on IG. I say yeah, sure, but no way am I telling Livvy I had this conversation with Jordan. Not yet.
Not sure why, but I want to keep this secret all to myself.
It’s weird, but we chat off and on all day. While I do laundry, he sends me a DM. I send him one back and a few minutes or even an hour later, I receive a response. We talk about everything else but the fact that we broke up. We play catch up about people and places, talking like old friends, which I suppose we are.
But it’s finally near six and I still need to take a shower and curl my hair. Cade is picking me up at seven for our date and I haven’t even really picked out an outfit yet. As fun as this stroll down memory lane is, I need to get on it. Focus on the guy who’s interested in me now, not on the one from my past.
I’m afraid I have to go. It’s been nice talking to you.
I’m in the bathroom, shedding my clothes, the shower running when Jordan immediately replies. Hot date on a Saturday night?
Livvy would encourage me to say hell yes, motherfucker since that’s her style. But is that rude? Is that me rubbing it in his face?