So tomorrow night isn’t just Saturday night. Tomorrow night is Slipper Room night. It’s going to be me, Sadie, Austin, Rosanna . . . and hopefully Jude. When Jude called me on Wednesday to ask if I wanted to get together Friday night, I was just starting to feel better. His call was perfect timing, literally a wake-up call. The horror of sprawling on the sidewalk instead of working 5th Avenue like a runway crept up my spine like the most disturbing slasher movie scene of all time. I no longer have the desire to let my wild child flag fly. That flag needs to be rolled up and packed away permanently. Or burned. Not that I won’t go out for a drink ever again. But I am done with the comfortably numb.
I am done with trying to escape my life.
These past three days have been all about soul searching. The search for Darcy Stewart’s true heart’s desires was intensive, requiring the brightest flashlights, long nights plodding through marshland, and mental exertion so strenuous there were times I wanted to call an end to the search rather than push myself even one step farther.
But I didn’t stop. I kept going. I thought about how my life was destroyed. About all the things I hate. About all the things I miss. And then I let those things go. Not forever. I learned the hard way when I moved here with heavy baggage that you can’t resolve an issue just by leaving it behind. But for now, I have let go of my anger. It’s the only way I can move forward. It’s the only way I can build a new life all on my own.
First stop: Cozy Couch Corner. While most New York offices are dead on an August Friday, Jude’s office is humming with activity this evening. Jude asked me to wait for him at the Triple C while he wraps up a phone conference with possible new investors. Then he’s taking me to dinner. You know, like two friends who get together for dinner sometimes. Because that’s what we are now.
Friends.
I still have feelings for Jude that he doesn’t have for me anymore, but I should be happy that he is back in my life at all. That’s what I wanted. But the limitations on our new relationship are making me uncomfortable. Not even the Cozy Couch Corner can relax me. I’m all wound up.
“Want some?” Dax is leaning over the back of the couch, offering me a bowl of microwave popcorn.
“Thanks.” I take a few pieces of popcorn that I am too agitated to eat.
Dax leans one hand against the top of the couch and launches himself over. He lands on the cushion next to me. “Nice dress,” he remarks.
“Thanks.” Normally I would buy a new dress to celebrate being asked to dinner by the boy I am secretly in love with. But that was before. My new life doesn’t allow for extravagant purchases on a whim. In a way, my new circumstances are making me even more determined to rock this backless little black dress and strappy gold heels.
Dax crams a handful of popcorn into his mouth. Or tries to. Popcorn scatters everywhere. “So what are you guys doing tonight?” he wants to know.
“Just going to dinner.”
“You sure about that?”
“I think so. Why?”
“The way Jude was talking, it sounded like he had big plans. He’s been stoked all day.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah.” Dax crunches another fistful of popcorn. “He couldn’t stop talking about you after the last time you were here. Which was partially my fault. I might have asked if you were single.” He gives me a goofy smile to show that he’s harmless. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”
“What did Jude say when you asked him that?”
“He said you were seeing someone. But there was obviously more to the story. You guys used to be an item, right?”
Another vestige of my old life. “Something like that.”
Dax’s expression changes from playful to contemplative. “Seems like some people haven’t gotten over it.”
“What do you—”
“Hey, sorry that took so long,” Jude says, coming around the couch. He’s holding a drawstring bag and looking more delicious than ever. He scans the scattered pieces of popcorn on the floor, the couch, and Dax’s tech geek tee featuring Tetris graphics. “I see you’ve been offered our finest snack cuisine.”
Dax nods. “When you roll with D-Money, it’s class all the way.”
Jude looks at the popcorn on Dax’s shirt. “I can see that.” He winks at me. “Ready?”
“Not yet. I have something for you.” I gesture to the shopping bag next to me on the couch.
“I have something for you, too.” Jude holds up the drawstring bag he’s carrying.
“Mine first. If you can handle the magnificent wrapping job.”
“Yeah, well, I have to get back to work anyway.” Dax gets up, popcorn from his shirt showering to the floor. “My boss can be a ball buster.”
“But I hear he’s lenient about cleaning.” Jude bugs his eyes at the mess.
“Oh, sorry, man. Did you want me to—”
“You can clean it up later.”
“Copy that. Good to see you again, Darcy.” Dax darts a look at Jude, then at me, then back at Jude. Abruptly, he returns to his desk.
“He’s a piece of work, but he’s brilliant.” Jude sits next to me, putting the drawstring bag on his other side. “So what’s under the magnificent wrapping?”
I give him the bag. He pulls out the Princess Bride tee I bought for him in June. He holds it up and grins at Inigo Montoya with the big HELLO in bold type across the top.
“I love it,” he says.
“I knew you would.”
Jude beams at the shirt. “Thanks for this. I’m really happy we’re friends again. Not that we were just friends before, um— I mean, I’m happy you’re back in my life.”
There it is again. Friends.
“You smell like coffee,” Jude says.
“That would be my new perfume. Called, um . . . Coffee.” Smelling like coffee is my new normal. But I can’t bring myself to admit to Jude that my life fell apart and I just came from work. Not when Jude is so freaking successful. Not when there’s so much I want to improve.
Outside is gorgeous. There’s a cooler freshness that is such a treat after all the heat and humidity we’ve been enduring. The air smells like basil and lemons. I don’t hear any traffic noises. This part of the Financial District is all twisty streets and secluded enclaves. Jude and I are the only ones on this block. If we stood still in silence together, focusing on the Now and nothing else, it would feel like this night belongs to us.
We walk a few blocks. Orange evening sunlight is making Jude glow. His glow is making me dizzy.
Jude stops in front of a Citi Bike rack. “I thought we could ride around for a while and find a restaurant we like.”
“Um . . . “I peer down at my strappy heels. The farthest I could pedal in these would be like two blocks before my foot slips and I fall on the sidewalk again.
“No worries. I got you these.” Jude pulls a pair of silver Vans out of the drawstring bag. “Size seven and a half, right?”
“How did you know I’d be wearing heels?”
“Because I know you.”
Everything Jude says and does keeps reinforcing my feeling that he knows me better than any other boy ever has. Including Logan. Did Logan even know my shoe size?
I stare at Jude, hypnotized.
Jude seems worried that I hate his bike-riding idea. “All the bikes have a basket in the front,” he says. “You can put your shoes in there.”
“You thought of everything.”
“Except for a backup plan if you didn’t want to ride bikes.”
“Dude. Of course I want to ride bikes.”
Jude laughs. “Then we’re all set.”
Riding up along the East River makes me think of two things. I remember how invigorating it was to ride on the back of Logan’s motorcycle that night he re-created our first three dates, how free I felt as the night flashed by us. And I remember when Rosanna told me about the bike ride she took with D in South Beach. She loved how romantic he was. He really did try hard to love
Rosanna the way she deserved to be loved. He just couldn’t fight his feelings for Shayla. You always come back to the person your heart truly desires.
Jude doesn’t have to impress me with grand gestures like trips to South Beach. He doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not. Or pretend he still loves me when he doesn’t. Jude wants me in his life and I want him in mine. This way we both get what we want.
The more I think about it as we ride up and down the streets, the more I think just being friends is probably for the best. Relationships are messy. They come with unknown expiration dates. They crumble apart in the face of complicated feelings or ulterior motives or the weight of heavy baggage. What Jude and I have now is so much better. None of those typical problems can break us apart. We want to spend time together. Clean and simple.
One hour and two bike rack exchanges later, I’ve almost convinced myself I believe all that.
We get off our bikes at South Street Seaport, deliver them to the nearest bike rack, and walk around looking for a place to eat. I am pulled like a magnet to this restaurant called Barbalu. We read the menu in the display case outside, standing so close we’re almost touching. Electricity thrums in the space between us. Jude smells the same as always, but even better today, like his pheromones are churning out extra attraction molecules. I hold my breath, willing myself to stay still, not to fling my arms around Jude’s neck and kiss him.
Barbalu turns out to be an excellent choice. We’re seated in a rustic-chic back room with a skylight and lots of cute plants. I look up through the skylight at people’s apartment windows. Living above a restaurant you can see down into might be kind of cool.
Jude and I talk nonstop, just like we did when we first met. Same connection. Same chemistry. The only difference now is that he sees me as a friend while my feelings are complicated, a commotion of multifaceted pros and cons clanging together underneath every word I say.
“So guess who got in touch with me?” Jude says after we’ve had the freshest watermelon sorbet in the world. Rosanna would be dying over this.
“Who?”
“Samantha Rutherford.”
“Who’s— That girl you had a crush on in fourth grade?”
Jude nods with more enthusiasm than I can take. “She saw that profile of me in The New Yorker. See? I knew she was still pining for me.”
“Throwback moment,” I say. But inside I am panicking. Does Jude want to go out with her? Is he actually right about her pining? “What did she say?”
“She wanted to get together. She goes to Hunter.” Jude shakes his head in wonder. “I can’t believe she remembers me.”
The panic roils into a storm of jealousy. Friends aren’t supposed to get jealous over their friends’ girl adventures. I try to keep my face neutral as Jude tells me about their conversation. Seeing how excited he is about Samantha fuels the storm until it takes all the effort I can muster not to spring up from my chair and run out the door.
Things get even more complicated when the check comes.
At the beginning of the summer, I would have snatched up this check and insisted on paying. But now I can’t even afford a salad at Chop’t much less dinner at a nice restaurant. Jude did ask me to dinner, but this isn’t a date. Friends usually split the check. Fresh panic stirs inside of me. Now I know how Rosanna feels when the check comes when the three of us are out.
The check sits in its black folder on the table between us. Jude is telling me a funny story about how one of his vendors got an order wrong, but with the check and my panic and his pheromones all swirling together, I can barely follow what he’s saying.
Jude slides the check in front of him and drops his credit card on top.
“We should split it,” I offer, reaching across the table.
“I got this,” Jude says. He puts his hand over my hand on the table. He leaves it there longer than he has to.
We look at each other in the dim romantic lighting. Classical music plays in the background. Glasses clink together. The smell of warm rosemary bread fills the air as the waiter places a fresh basket on the table next to ours. I focus on the Now, on this moment looking into Jude’s eyes. Between what Dax said and Jude’s lingering touch, I’m wondering if this is more than just two friends getting together. Despite trying to convince myself that less is okay, my heart knows what it wants.
Back outside, we decide to walk around before picking up new bikes and riding home. There’s a bunch of people dancing together in a roped-in area of a plaza. They all have big headphones on with different colored lights on the earpieces. Everyone is dancing, but I don’t hear any music.
“Whatever this is, we need to be a part of it,” I declare.
“I think it’s Quiet Clubbing.”
“What’s that?”
“Sort of like a Meetup group. They have three DJs spinning three different styles. Each DJ is a different color and you can switch your headphones between them. So you can be dancing with someone and either listening to the same song or different songs at the same time.”
“Love.”
“A friend of mine DJed for them.”
“Have you done it before?”
“No, but I want to.”
Sadie would call this an adorable non-coincidence.
We sign in to get headphones. Then we join the party. At first we’re dancing to different colors. We can’t stop cracking up at our clashing rhythms. But then we both turn to green and stay there. The DJ is playing a club remix of “Lost Stars.” We move to the music like flowing water. I remember how Jude’s eyes looked like a clear blue sea I wanted to dive into on our first date. That’s exactly how I feel now. Like I want to dive in with him. Except this time, I don’t want to get out.
I lock eyes with him, our motions in sync, the cool summer night breeze on our skin, Adam Levine’s lyrics blasting into our headphones.
Are we all lost stars
trying to light up the dark?
Clarity blinds me in a kaleidoscope of bright colors I never noticed before but which have always been right there. All that garbage about how being friends is better than being intimate if you want it to last is a joke. What’s the point of feeling with limitations when there is so much more to feel? This feeling, right here in this overwhelming moment, this is what I came here for. This is what I was chasing with all those boy adventures. I just wasn’t ready to catch more than I knew how to hold on to.
But now I am.
I am in love with Jude.
And I don’t want to be with anyone else.
CHAPTER 24
ROSANNA
I’M KIND OF NERVOUS ABOUT tonight. This is my first time seeing burlesque. When Darcy told me and Sadie that she had free tickets to the Slipper Room, we were excited for a fun night out. But then I realized I might be watching women take their clothes off. All the way. That might get kind of weird.
To me burlesque seems a bit demoralizing. Even though the women choose to participate, aren’t they still being objectified? Sadie disagreed with me when Darcy gave us the tickets. She thinks burlesque is the ultimate example of girl power. Darcy thinks it’s a badass way to take control, not only of a room but of your life. So now I’m worried that she might be interested in doing burlesque herself. She would make much more than any barista job could pay.
The five of us got here early so we could get good spots close to the stage. As we’re standing in a tight circle waiting for the show to start, I tell them about Momo. Sadie and Darcy have heard this before, but Jude and Austin are aghast as they absorb the details.
“Wait,” Jude says. “Her mom had no idea her boyfriend was abusing her own daughter?”
“Apparently,” I say.
“That’s messed up.”
“Sounds like she’s hiding something,” Austin says. “How could she not know? She must have suspected on some level.”
“That’s what I said,” Darcy chimes in. “What kind of mother doesn’t know her eight-year-old daughter is b
eing trapped in a crawl space?”
“It happens,” I tell her again, just like I did the day I found Momo. “The police said abusers can be tricky about covering up what they’re doing. And they’re good liars.”
“But why didn’t Momo tell her mom?” Jude asks.
“One time Momo spoke up. She was too afraid to be specific, but she told her mom that she didn’t like being left alone with the boyfriend when her mom went away because he was mean. The boyfriend found out and took away her jewelry box as punishment. Then he threatened that if she ever said anything again, his ‘methods of rehabilitation’ would get even harsher and everything else Momo had would be taken away.”
“Charming,” Sadie mumbles.
“He totally brainwashed her.” I take a sip of water to calm down, remembering how Momo broke down crying during her interview with the police at the hospital. “He convinced Momo that no matter what she told her mom, he would say Momo was lying. He would tell her mom that she was a bad girl who did horrible things, and her mom would believe him because he was the adult and Momo was just a little girl.”
Darcy snorts. She looks like she wants to kill him.
“He said he’d have Momo taken away from her mom and put in foster care. Momo got scared when he told her what foster care would be like, living in a strange room with a bunch of other kids she doesn’t know. Moving around from apartment to apartment over the years with foster parents who would do much worse things to her than him.” I remember how powerful it was when the man who was molesting me said he would hurt my little sister if I told anyone what he was doing. Those threats are so terrifying you go into lockdown survival mode. “He kept telling her that his ‘methods of rehabilitation’ weren’t even bad. That they would work if she let them and then she would be a good girl.”