Maybe Someday (Maybe #1)(47)

We read through each other’s messages. I read his more than once. I didn’t expect him to be so forthcoming and honest, especially about the fact that he cares about me. I never for one second expected him to contemplate leaving Maggie for me. That would be the worst outcome of all of this. If he left her and we attempted to build a relationship from that, it would never work. The entire relationship would be built on betrayal and deceit, and those two things have never made and will never make for a good foundation.

Ridge: Wow. I’m impressed with us. We’re both so mature.

His comment makes me laugh.

Me: Yes, we are.

Ridge: Sydney, I can’t tell you what your message just did for me. Seriously. I feel like the weight of all nine planets (because yes, Pluto will always be a planet to me) has been crushing my chest since the moment I walked away from you last night. But knowing that you don’t hate me and that you’re not mad and that you aren’t concocting an evil revenge scheme feels so damn good right now. Thank you for that.

Me: Hold on. I never said I wasn’t concocting an evil revenge scheme. ;) Also, while we’re being so blunt, can I ask you a question?

Ridge: What did I tell you about initiating a question with whether or not you can propose a question?

Me: Oh, my God, I can’t believe I ever kissed you. You’re so ANNOYING!

Ridge. LOL. What’s your question?

Me: I’m concerned. We obviously have an issue with the fact that we’re attracted to each other. How do we get past that? I want to write music with you, but I also know that the few moments we’ve had that wouldn’t make Maggie very happy have all been while we’re writing music. I think I’m just too desirable when I’m being creative, and I want to know what I need to do to lessen my attractiveness. If that’s even possible.

Ridge: Keep up the egotism. It’s very unattractive, and if it continues, I won’t even be able to look at you in a week’s time.

Me: Deal. But what do I do about my attraction to YOU? Tell me some personal flaws that I can engrave into my memory.

He laughs.

Ridge: I sleep so late on Sundays I don’t even brush my teeth until Monday.

Me: That’s a start. I need a few more.

Ridge: Let’s see. Once, when Warren and I were fifteen, I had a crush on a girl. Warren didn’t know I liked her, and he asked me if I would ask her out for him. I did, and she agreed, because apparently, she had a crush on Warren in return. I told him she said no.

Me: Ridge! That’s terrible!

Ridge: I know. I need a flaw from you now.

Me: When I was eight, we went to Coney Island. I wanted an ice cream, and my parents wouldn’t buy me one because I was wearing a new shirt that “June Cleaver” didn’t want me to get dirty. We were walking by a trash can, and there was a melted ice cream cone in it, so when my parents turned around, I picked it up and started eating it.

Ridge: Yeah, that’s pretty gross. But you were only eight, so it really doesn’t count. I need something more recent. High school? College?

Me: Oh! One time in high school, I spent the night at a girl’s house who I didn’t know very well. We made out. I wasn’t into it, and it was really gross, but I was seventeen and curious.

Ridge: No. That does NOT count as a flaw, Sydney. Jesus Christ, work with me here.

Me: I like the smell of puppy breath.

Ridge: Better. I can’t hear my own farts, so sometimes I’ll forget that other people can hear them.

Me: Oh, my God. Yes, this is the type of thing that definitely sheds a different light on you. I think I’ll be good for a while.

Ridge: One more from you, and then I think we’ll be equally repulsed.

Me: A few days ago, when I was getting off the campus bus, I noticed Tori’s car was gone. I used my extra key to let myself into her apartment, because I needed a few things I had forgotten. Before I left, I opened all her bottles of liquor and spit in them.

Ridge: For real?

I nod, because I’m too ashamed to type the word yes.

He laughs.

Ridge: Okay. I think we’re good. Meet me here at eight tonight, and we’ll see if we can navigate through a song. If we need to take breaks from the music every now and then in order to replenish our repulsiveness with a few more flaws, just let me know.

Me: Deal.

I close my laptop and begin to slide off the bed, but he grabs my wrist. I turn around, and he’s looking at me with a serious expression. He leans over and grabs a pen, then picks up my hand and writes: Thank you.

I press my lips together and nod. He releases my hand, and I walk back to my room, attempting to ignore the fact that all the repulsive details in the world couldn’t stop my heart from reacting to that simple gesture. I look down at my chest.

Hey, heart. Are you listening? You and I are officially at war.

Ridge

As soon as she’s out of my bedroom and the door shuts behind her, I close my eyes and exhale.

I’m thankful that she isn’t angry. I’m thankful that she isn’t vindictive. I’m thankful that she’s reasonable.

I’m also thankful that she appears to have more willpower than I do, because whenever I’m around her, I’ve never felt so weak.

13.

Sydney

Not much has changed in the way we practice together, other than the fact that we practice five feet apart from each other. We’ve completed a couple of songs since “the kiss,” and although the first night was a little awkward, we seem to have found our groove. We haven’t talked about the kiss, and we haven’t talked about Maggie, and we haven’t discussed why he plays on the floor and why I write alone on the bed. There’s no reason to discuss it, because we’re both very aware of all of it.