Maybe Someday (Maybe #1)(80)

“How do you know she’s doing well? Do you talk to her?” The desperation in my question surprises me, because I didn’t know until this second just how much I need her to be okay.

“Yeah, I’ve seen her a few times. Bridgette and I had lunch with her yesterday.”

I fall back against my chair, slightly annoyed that he didn’t tell me this but relieved to know she’s not holed up in her apartment, devastated.

“Has she asked about me? Does she know about Maggie and me?”

He nods. “She knows. She asked how things went with the two of you, so I told her the truth. She hasn’t brought it up since then.”

Jesus Christ. Knowing that she knows the truth should relieve my worry, but it only intensifies it. I can’t imagine what she must think about my lack of communication with her now that she knows about Maggie. The fact that I haven’t contacted her at all probably has her believing I blame her. I lean forward and look pleadingly to Warren.

“Please, Warren. Tell me where she lives.”

He shakes his head. “Give me my keys.”

I shake my head.

He rolls his eyes at our matched stubbornness and pushes himself away from the table, then storms off to his room.

I open my texts to Sydney, and begin scrolling through them as I do every single day, wishing I had the courage to text her. I’m afraid it will be easier for her to shut me out through a text than it would be if I were to show up at her front door, which is why I haven’t texted her. Despite the fact that I don’t want to agree with Warren, I know that nothing good will come from me contacting her. I know we’re not in a place to start a relationship, and seeing her in person would only exacerbate how much I miss her. However, knowing what I should do and abiding by what I should do are two completely different things.

• • •

My light flicks on. Seconds later, my shoulders are being violently shaken. I smile through the grogginess, knowing by Warren’s presence alone that I’ve got him right where I want him. I turn over and look up at him.

“Something wrong?” I sign.

“Where are they?”

“Where are what?”

“My condoms, Ridge. Where the hell did you hide my condoms?”

I knew that if stealing his keys didn’t work, then stealing his condoms would. I’m just glad he thought to put on shorts before leaving Bridgette in his bed and storming into my room.

“You want your condoms?” I sign. “Tell me where she lives.”

Warren runs his palms over his face, and from the looks of it, I think he’s groaning. “Forget it. I’ll go to the store and buy new ones.”

Before he turns to walk out of my room, I sit up on the bed. “How do you plan on driving to the store? I have your keys, remember?”

He pauses for a second, and then his face relaxes when he’s hit with a new epiphany. “I’ll take Bridgette’s car.”

“Good luck finding her keys.”

Warren stares at me hard for several seconds, then finally slumps his shoulders and turns toward my dresser. He grabs a pen and paper and writes something down, wads it up, and throws it at me. “Here’s her address, ass**le. Now, give me my keys.”

I unfold the paper and double-check to make sure he actually wrote an address down. I reach behind my nightstand, and grab his box of condoms, and toss it to him.

“That should do you for now. I’ll tell you where your keys are after I confirm that this is really her address.”

Warren pulls one of the condoms out of the box and tosses it at me.

“Take this with you when you go, because that’s definitely her address.” He turns and leaves the room, and no sooner is he gone than I’m up and dressed and heading out the front door.

I don’t even know what time it is.

I don’t even care.

23.

Sydney

Sound triggers.

They happen a lot, but mostly when I hear certain songs. Especially songs Hunter and I both loved. If I listen to a song during a particularly depressing period, then hear it later on down the road, it brings back all the old feelings associated with that song. There are songs I used to love that now I absolutely refuse to listen to. They trigger memories and feelings I don’t want to experience again.

My text tone has become one of those sound triggers.

Namely, Ridge’s text tone. It’s very distinct, a snippet from the demo of our song “Maybe Someday.” I assigned it to him after I heard the song for the first time. I’d like to say that sound trigger is a negative one, but I’m not so sure it is. The kiss I experienced with him during the song certainly led to negative feelings of guilt, but the kiss itself still turns my heart into a hot mess just thinking about it. And I think about it a lot. Way more than I should.

In fact, I’m thinking about it right now as the snippet of our song pours from the speakers of my cell phone, indicating that I’m receiving a text.

From Ridge.

I honestly never expected to hear this sound again.

I roll over on my bed and stretch my arm to the nightstand, my now-trembling fingers grasping at my phone. Knowing that I’ve received a text from him has once again wreaked havoc with my organs, and they’ve forgotten how to function properly. I pull the phone to my chest and close my eyes, too nervous to read his words.