Maybe Someday(50)

She needs you.

You’re happy when you’re with her.

You’re with the one and only girl you’re meant

to be with.

Chapter Ten

Sydney

It’s been two weeks since Ridge and I have

worked on lyrics together. A few days after Mag-

gie went home, Ridge ended up leaving for six

days because of a family emergency. He was

vague about what the emergency was, but it re-

minded me of when I still lived with Tori and he

was absent from his balcony for several days. A

family emergency was his excuse then, too.

Based on conversations I’ve heard Warren

have on the phone with Brennan, I know it didn’t

have anything to do with Brennan. But he’s never

mentioned having family other than Brennan.

When Ridge returned a few days ago, I asked

him if everything was okay and he said things

were fine. He didn’t seem to want to share any

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details, and I’m trying to remind myself that his

personal life is none of my concern.

I’ve immersed myself in school, and every

now and then, I’ll attempt to write lyrics on my

own, but it isn’t the same when I don’t have the

music to go along with it. Ridge has been home

for a few days now, but he’s spent most of his

time in his room catching up on work, and I can’t

help but wonder if he’s kept his distance for other

reasons.

I’ve been hanging out with Warren a lot and

have learned more about his relationship with

Bridgette. I haven’t had any more interactions

with her, so as far as I know, she still assumes

I’m deaf.

Based on what Warren has told me, their rela-

tionship is anything but typical. Warren never

met Bridgette before she moved in six months

ago, but she’s a longtime friend of Brennan’s.

Warren says that he and Bridgette don’t get along

at all, and during the day, they live separate lives.

But at night, it’s a completely different story. He

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has tried to go into more detail than I care to

hear, so I force him to shut up when he begins to

overshare.

I’m really wishing he would shut up right now,

because he’s in the midst of one of his overshar-

ing moments. I have to leave for class in half an

hour, and I’m trying to finish reading a last-

minute chapter, but he’s intent on telling me all

about last night and how he wouldn’t let her take

her Hooters uniform off because he likes to role-

play, and oh, my God, why does he think I care

to hear this?

Luckily, Bridgette walks out of her room, and

it’s more than likely the first time I’ve ever been

happy to see her.

“Good morning, Bridgette,” Warren says, his

eyes following her across the living room. “Sleep

well?”

“Screw you, Warren,” she says in return.

I’m beginning to understand that this is their

typical morning greeting. She walks into the kit-

chen and glances at me, then at Warren seated

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next to me on the couch. She narrows her eyes at

him and turns toward the refrigerator. Ridge is at

the dining-room table, concentrating on his

laptop.

“I don’t like how she’s up your ass all the

time,” Bridgette says with her back to me.

Warren looks at me and laughs. Apparently,

Bridgette still assumes I can’t hear her, but I’m

not finding much humor in the fact that she’s

talking shit about me.

She spins around and eyes Warren. “You think

that’s funny?” she says to him. “The girl obvi-

ously has it bad for you, and you can’t even re-

spect me enough to distance yourself from her

until I’m out of the house?” She turns her back to

us again. “First she gives Ridge some sob story

so he’ll let her move in, and now she’s taking ad-

vantage of the fact that you know sign language

so she can flirt with you.”

“Bridgette, stop.” Warren isn’t laughing any-

more, because he can see how white my knuckles

are, clasped around my book. I think he’s afraid

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Bridgette’s about to get hit upside the head with a

hardback. He’s right to be afraid.

“You stop, Warren,” she says, turning back

around to face him. “Either stop crawling into

bed with me at night or stop shacking up on the

couch with her during the day.”

I drop my book onto my lap with a loud slap,

then kick my feet up and down against the floor

out of frustration, anger, and flat-out annoyance.

I can’t put up with this girl for another second.

“Bridgette, please!” I yell. “Shut up! Shut up,