We Were Never Here(40)

    “He was giving me shit about getting laid off. Zero sympathy. As if he has any idea how these things work—he inherited his dad’s company.” More munching. “I know you understand what the job market’s actually like for millennials.”

“Totally. I’m sorry, Kristen. That sucks. He just doesn’t get it.” Ugh, if I’d known she didn’t actually need me, I would’ve let Aaron spend the night—I wanted to text him, check if he’d consider heading back, but my phone wasn’t in its normal spot in the console. “And it’s keeping you awake? A job loss is…big. It merits grieving.”

“I’m not, though. Grieving. Screw Lucas and that godforsaken job.” She swallowed a mouthful of chips and her voice grew clearer. “It’s just weird not knowing what the future will hold. I guess that’s why I called you. You’re my rock.”

“I’m here for you,” I replied, suddenly guilty that I was only half listening—that part of my mind was focused on catching Aaron before he turned his phone off and climbed into bed. At a red light, I hunched and groped around the footwell on the passenger side.

“And it was so nice to catch up in Chile,” she went on, and I was so surprised my foot slipped off the brake. I whipped upright and flung my weight on the pedal. “All that uninterrupted conversation, you know? And, Em, I feel like we haven’t talked that much since. No Kremily dates.”

Kremily—I hadn’t heard that one since before she moved away, the cheesy portmanteau we’d made up at Northwestern (our friendship was, we figured, easily as legendary as Kimye or Speidi).

“We definitely need some one-on-one time,” I said. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Don’t worry about me, just hang out with me!” There was a giggle in her tone. “Tomorrow?”

“Crap, I can’t tomorrow.” I had therapy, and felt another spear of guilt that I was hiding this from her. But…but we’re all allowed to keep a few things private. “Friday?”

“Wait, what are we doing for your birthday on Thursday?”

“I’m…well, shoot. I made plans with Aaron before you were here. We’re just staying in—I don’t feel like doing anything huge this year.”

    “Got it.” She sounded so sad, and a cringe went through me. I reminded myself that it was okay to have plans with my boyfriend. It was okay to not invite her too. But then her cheer rebounded: “?‘Nothing huge,’ noted. Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m serious, Kristen. I hate surprises.”

“Then good thing you love me. Anyway, I’ll let you go.”

I bid her good night and, in a rush, tried Aaron: straight to voicemail.

At home, I got ready for bed with my brow knit, my mouth downturned, feeling I’d disappointed everyone. I almost laughed at my stupid reverie at the bowling alley—such hubris, thinking I could let my guard down.

Someday, I’d no longer lie in bed at night cataloging all the details, the reasons we’d be caught: witnesses at the leafy bar, the shallow grave, our footprints in the dark, the light of a window as we thrust shovels in a shed. Someday, those hours on the mountainside would take on an eerie, cinematic quality, like a horror movie I’d seen.

But definitely not today.



* * *



—

Priya plunked a cup of coffee on my desk and I jumped.

“I could tell you needed it.”

“Aw, thank you. That obvious?”

“Absolutely.” The seat next to mine was empty and she dropped into it, spun lazily. “So what is it? Hangover? Insomnia? Your period?”

“D, none of the above.” I finished an email and turned to her, my voice low. “I had a late night. Aaron came over.”

A dramatic gasp. “It was D! Emily got some D!” She slid her foot beneath her and leaned forward. “How was it?”

I blushed, thinking of his lips on my hip bone, kisses as soft as butterflies. “It was good. Hot.”

    “Oh my God. I don’t know how I’m going to look him in the eye at Mona anymore.” She flashed her brows. “Good way to drum up business at the café. Keep you up all night so you’re desperate for caffeine.”

“You’re ridiculous. And he didn’t even stay the night.”

Her eyes widened. “He just left? Like, wham, bam, thank you, ma’am?”

I shook my head. “My friend Kristen called, and I thought she wanted me to come over because she was freaking out, but by the time I figured out it was a false alarm, Aaron was…” I trailed off. Why was I telling her this? Priya didn’t even know Kristen; she certainly didn’t need to hear about Kristen’s tizzy, real or imagined.

Mercifully a co-worker shambled over with C-suite gossip, something about Russell-the-wunderkind getting drunk and sloppy with a potential investor. I nodded as he spoke but couldn’t listen. I felt like I was in a weird love triangle, with Aaron and Kristen each tugging on an arm.

I need you, she’d texted. Not Please call me or Can we talk? Or even I miss you.

As he spoke, my co-worker ran his palm over the back of his neck, past the nubby ponytail there, and I thought of Paolo again, his black ponytail matted in blood.