Maybe Someday(17)

skeptical.

I walk back into the living room, and all the

lights are out except for a lamp beside the couch.

I look at my phone, and it’s barely after nine.

Several texts came through while I was in the

shower, so I take a seat on the couch and scroll

through them.

Hunter: Please call me. We need to talk.

Tori: I’m not mad at you for hitting me.

Please call me.

Hunter: I’m worried about you. Where are

you?

Ridge: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.

Are you okay?

98/692

Hunter: I’ll bring your purse to you. Just

tell me where you are.

I drop the phone onto the coffee table and sink

back onto the couch. I have no idea what I’m go-

ing to do. Of course, I never want to speak to

either of them again, but where does that put me?

I can’t afford my own apartment right now, since

financial aid doesn’t come in for another month. I

don’t have enough money in savings to put down

a deposit plus get all the utilities turned on until

then. The majority of the friends I’ve made since

I’ve been going to school here still live in dorms,

so staying with them is out of the question. I’m

basically left with two options: Call my parents,

or enter into some odd plural relationship with

Hunter and Tori in order to save money.

Neither option is one I’m willing to entertain

tonight. I’m just thankful that Ridge allowed me

to stay at his place. At least I’m saving money on

a hotel room. I have no idea where I’ll go when I

wake up in the morning, but that’s still a good

twelve hours away. Until then, I’ll just continue

99/692

to hate the entire universe while I feel sorry for

myself.

And what better way to feel sorry for myself

than while getting drunk?

I need alcohol. Bad.

I walk to the kitchen and begin to scan the cab-

inets. I hear the door to Ridge’s bedroom open. I

glance over my shoulder at him as he comes out

of his room.

His hair is definitely light brown. Take that,

Tori.

He’s in a faded T-shirt and jeans, and he’s

barefoot, eyeing me inquisitively as he makes his

way into the kitchen. I feel a little embarrassed

for being caught rummaging through his cabin-

ets, so I turn away from him before he sees me

blush.

“I need a drink,” I say. “You got any alcohol?”

He’s staring down at his phone, texting again.

He either can’t do two things at once, or he’s up-

set because I had an attitude with him today.

100/692

“I’m sorry if I was a bitch to you, Ridge, but

you have to admit, my response was a little justi-

fied considering the day I’ve had.”

He casually slips his phone into his pocket and

looks at me from across the bar, but he chooses

not to respond to my half-assed apology. He

purses his lips and cocks an eyebrow.

I’d like to smack that cocky eyebrow back

down where it belongs. What the hell is his prob-

lem? The worst thing I did to him was flip him

off.

I roll my eyes and shut the last cabinet, then

walk back to the couch. He’s really being a jerk,

considering my situation. From the little time

I’ve known him, I was under the impression that

he was actually a nice guy, but I’d almost rather

go back to my own apartment with Tori and

Hunter.

I pick up my phone, expecting another text

from Hunter, but it’s from Ridge.

101/692

Ridge: If you aren’t going to look at me

when you speak, you might want to stick

to texting.

I read the text several times, trying to make

sense of it, but no matter how many times I read

it, I don’t understand it. I grow concerned that

maybe he’s a little weird and I need to leave. I

look at him, and he’s watching me. He can see

the confusion on my face, but he still doesn’t ex-

plain himself. Instead, he resumes texting. When

my phone receives another message, I look at the

screen.

Ridge: I’m deaf, Sydney.

Deaf?

Oh.

Wait. Deaf?

But how? We’ve had so many conversations.

The last few weeks of knowing him and talk-

ing to him flash through my memory, and I can’t

recall a single time I’ve actually heard him speak.

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Is that why Bridgette thought I was deaf?

I stare at my phone, sinking into a heap of em-

barrassment. I’m not sure how to feel about this.

I’m sure that feeling betrayed isn’t a fair re-

sponse, but I can’t help it. I feel I need to tack

this onto the “Ways the world can betray Sydney

on her birthday” list. Not only did he not tell me