Maybe Someday(84)

sorrow, and I don’t understand anything he’s

feeling.

“What is your problem with me, Warren? I’ve

never been anything but nice to you. I’ve even

been nice to your bitch of a girlfriend, and be-

lieve me, that takes effort.”

He nods in agreement. “I know,” he says, ex-

asperated. “I know, I know, I know. You are a nice person.” He laces his fingers together and

stretches his arms out, then brings them back

down with a heavy sigh. “And I know you have

good intentions. You have a good heart. And a pretty good right swing,” he says, grinning slyly.

“I guess that’s why I’m so mad, though. I know

you have a good heart, so why in the hell haven’t

you moved out yet?” His words hurt me more

now than the vulgar ones he spit at me five

minutes ago.

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“If you and Ridge wanted me gone this bad,

why did you both wait until this weekend to tell

me?”

My question seems to catch Warren off-guard,

because his eyes cut to mine briefly before he

looks away again. He doesn’t answer that ques-

tion, though. Instead, he begins to prepare one of

his own. “Has Ridge ever told you the story of

how he met Maggie?” he asks.

I shake my head, completely confused by the

direction this conversation has taken.

“I was seventeen, and Ridge had just turned

eighteen,” he says. He leans back against the

couch and stares down at his hands.

I recall Ridge saying he began dating Maggie

when he was nineteen, but I keep silent and let

him continue.

“We had been dating for about six weeks, and .

. .”

Scratch that thought. Can no longer keep si-

lent. “We?” I ask hesitantly. “As in you and

Ridge?”

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“No, dumbass. As in me and Maggie.”

I try to hide my shock, but he doesn’t look at

me long enough to even see my reaction.

“Maggie was my girlfriend first. I met her at a

fund-raising event for children who were deaf. I

was there with my parents, who were both on the

committee.” He pulls his hands behind his head

and leans against the couch.

“Ridge was with me the first time I saw her.

We both thought she was the most beautiful thing

we had ever laid eyes on, but, fortunately for me,

my eyes landed on her about five seconds before

his did, so I called dibs. Of course, neither one of

us expected to actually have a chance with her. I

mean, you’ve seen her. She’s incredible.” He

pauses for a moment, then props a leg on the

table in front of us.

“Anyway, I spent the whole day flirting with

her. Charming her with my good looks and my

killer body.”

I laugh, but only out of courtesy.

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“She agreed to go on a date with me, so I told

her I’d pick her up that Friday night. I took her

out, made her laugh, took her back home, and

kissed her. It was great, so I asked her out again,

and she agreed. I took her out for a second date,

then a third date. I liked her. We got along well;

she laughed at my jokes. She also got along with

Ridge, which scored major points in my book.

The girl and the best friend have to get along, or

one of the two will suffer. Luckily, we all got

along great. On our fourth date, I asked her if she

wanted to make it official, and she agreed. I was

stoked, because I knew she was by far the hottest

girl I’d ever dated or ever would date. I couldn’t let her slip away, especially before I was able to

go all the way with her.”

He laughs. “I remember saying that to Ridge

the same night. Told him if there was one girl on

this earth I needed to devirginize, it was Maggie.

Told him I’d go on a hundred dates with her if

that’s what it took. He turned his head to me and

signed, ‘What about a hundred and one?’ I

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laughed, because I didn’t understand what the

hell Ridge meant. I didn’t understand at the time

that he liked her the way he did, and I never

really understood all the little gems he would

spout. Still don’t. Looking back on the whole

situation and the way he would sit there and have

to listen to the punk-ass things I said about her,

I’m surprised he didn’t punch me sooner than he

did.”

“He punched you?” I ask. “Why? Because you

talked about screwing her?”

He shakes his head, and a look of guilt washes

over him. “No,” he says quietly. “Because I did

screw her.”

He sighs but continues. “We were staying the

night at Ridge and Brennan’s. Maggie spent a lot

of time over there with me, and we had been dat-