Maybe Someday(28)

a lot more defined and curvy than Maggie’s.

Sydney definitely fills out the dress well, which

is why Warren liked it. At least she changed into

shorts before showing up at my bedroom door.

That helps a little. The tops she wears are usually

way too big for her, and they hang off her

shoulders, which makes me think she took a lot

of Hunter’s T-shirts with her when she packed

her bags.

Maggie’s hair is always straight, whereas

Sydney’s is hard to figure out. It seems to change

with the weather, but that’s not necessarily a bad

thing. The first time I saw her sitting on her

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balcony, I thought she had brown hair, but it

turns out her hair was just wet. After playing gui-

tar for about an hour that night, I looked at her as

she was walking back inside her apartment, and

her hair had dried completely and was in piles of

blond waves that fell past her shoulders. Today

it’s curly and pulled up into a messy knot on top

of her head.

Sydney: Stop staring at me.

Shit.

I laugh and attempt to brush away whatever

the hell that internal detour was I just took.

Me: You look sad.

The first night she showed up here, she seemed

happier than she does right now. Maybe it just

took time for reality to sink in.

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Sydney: Is there a way we can chat on

the computer? It’s a lot easier for me than

texting.

Me: Sure. What’s your last name? I’ll

friend you on Facebook.

Sydney: Blake.

I open my laptop and search her name. When I

find her profile, I send her a friend request. She

accepts it almost instantly, then shoots me a

message.

Sydney: Hello, Ridge Lawson.

Me: Hello, Sydney Blake. Better?

She nods.

Sydney: You’re a computer programmer?

Me: Already stalking my profile? And yes.

I work from home. Graduated two years

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ago

with

a

degree

in

computer

engineering.

Sydney: How old are you?

Me: 24.

Sydney: Please tell me 24 is a lot better

than 22.

Me: 22 will be good for you. Maybe not

this week or next week, but it’ll get

better.

She sighs and puts one of her hands up to the

back of her neck and rubs it, then begins typing

again.

Sydney: I miss him. Is that crazy? I miss

Tori, too. I still hate them and want to see

them suffer, but I miss what I had with

him. It’s really starting to hurt. When it

first happened, I thought maybe I was

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better off without him, but now I just feel

lost.

I don’t want to be harsh in my response, but at

the same time, I’m not a girl, so I’m not about to

tell her that what she’s feeling is normal. Because

to me, it’s not normal.

Me: You only miss the idea of him. You

weren’t happy with him even before you

found out he was cheating. You were only

with him because it was comfortable. You

just miss the relationship, but you don’t

miss Hunter.

She looks up at me and cocks her head, nar-

rowing her eyes in my direction for a few

seconds before dropping them back to the

computer.

Sydney: How can you say I wasn’t happy

with him? I was. Until I found out what he

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was doing, I honestly thought he was the

one.

Me: No. You didn’t. You wanted him to be,

but that’s not how you really felt.

Sydney: You’re kind of being a jerk right

now, you know that?

I set my laptop beside me and walk to my

desk. I pick up my notebook and a pen and go

back to the bed and take a seat next to her. I flip

open my notebook to the first set of lyrics she

sent me.

Read these, I write at the top of the page. I set the notebook in her lap.

She looks down at the lyrics, then takes the

pen. I don’t need to read them, she writes. I wrote them.

I scoot closer to her and put the notebook in

my lap, then circle a few lines of her chorus. I

point to them again. Read these as if you weren’t the one who wrote them.

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She reluctantly looks down at the notebook

and reads the chorus.

You don’t know me like you think you do

I pour me one, when I really want two

Oh, you’re living a lie

Living a lie

You think we’re good, but we’re really not

You coulda fixed things, but you missed your

shot

You’re living a lie

Living a lie

When I’m certain she’s had time to read them, I

pick up the pen and write: These words came

from somewhere inside you, Sydney. You can tell