Maybe Someday(68)

to the kitchen. I just don’t want to see him, be-

cause I hate how we left things. I don’t like that

we both know we almost crossed a line tonight.

Actually, I don’t like that we did cross a line tonight. Although we aren’t verbalizing what

we’re thinking and feeling, writing it in lyrics

isn’t any less harmful.

There’s a knock on my door, and knowing that

it’s more than likely Ridge causes my heart to be-

tray me by dancing rapidly in my chest. I don’t

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bother getting up to open the door, because he

nudges it open right after knocking. He holds up

a set of headphones and his cell phone, indicating

that he has something he wants me to hear. I nod,

and he walks over to the bed and hands them to

me. He hits play but takes a seat on the floor

while I scoot back onto the bed. The song begins

to play, and I spend the next three minutes barely

breathing. Ridge and I never once break our stare

throughout the duration of the song.

I’M IN TROUBLE

Why don’t we keep

Keep it simple

You talk to your friends

And I’ll be here to mingle

But you know that I

I want to be

Right by your side

Where I ought to be

And you know that I

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That I can see

The way that your eyes

Seem to follow me

And I must confess

My interest

The way that you move

When you’re in that dress

It’s making me feel

Like I want to be

The only man

That you ever see

Whoa oh, oh, oh

I’m in trouble, trouble

Whoa oh, oh, oh

I’m in trouble, trouble

Whoa oh, oh, oh

I’m in trouble now

I see you some places

from time to time

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You keep to your business

and I keep to mine

But you know that I

I want to be

Right by your side

Where I ought to be

And you know that I

That I can see

The way that your eyes

Seem to follow me

And I must confess

My interest

The way that you move

When you’re in that dress

It’s making me feel

Like I want to be

The only man

That you ever see

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Whoa oh, oh, oh

I’m in trouble, trouble

Whoa oh, oh, oh

I’m in trouble, trouble

Whoa oh, oh, oh

I’m in trouble now

Ridge

Maggie: Guess who gets to see me

tomorrow?

Me: Kurt Vonnegut?

Maggie: Guess again.

Me: Anderson Cooper?

Maggie: No, but close.

Me: Amanda Bynes?

Maggie: You’re so random. YOU get to see

me tomorrow, and you get to spend a

whole two days with me, and I know I’m

trying to save money, but I bought you

two new bras.

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Me: How did I ever get so lucky to find

the one and only girl who supports and

encourages my transvestite tendencies?

Maggie: I ask myself that same question

every day.

Me: What time do I get to see you?

Maggie: Well, it all depends on the

dreaded T word again.

Me: Ah. Yes. Well, we shall discuss it no

further. Try to be here by six, at least.

Warren’s birthday party is tomorrow

night, and I want to spend time with you

before all his crazy friends get here.

Maggie: Thank you for reminding me!

What should I get him?

Me: Nothing. Sydney and I are pulling the

ultimate prank. We told everyone to

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donate to charity in lieu of gifts. He’ll be

pissed when people start handing him all

the donation cards in his honor.

Maggie: You two are evil. Should I bring

something? A cake, maybe?

Me: Nope, we got it. We felt bad for the

“no gifts” prank, so we’re about to bake

him five different flavored cakes to make

up for it.

Maggie: Make sure one of them is German

chocolate.

Me: Already got you covered, babe. I love

you.

Maggie: Love you, too.

I close out our texts and open up the unread

one I have from Sydney.

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Sydney: You forgot vanilla extract, dum-

bass. It was on the list. Item 5. Now you

have to go back to the store.

Me: Maybe next time you should write

more legibly and return my texts when

I’m at the grocery store, attempting to

decipher item 5. I’ll be back in 20. Preheat

the oven, and text me if you think of any-

thing else.

I laugh, put my phone into my pocket, grab my

keys, and head to the store. Again.

? ? ?

We’re on cake number three. I’m beginning to