Rush Me Read online

  The rest of us were in hysterics. Carly, squirming on the bed, met my eyes, her own scrunched up in warm laughter. “And he left?” she gasped.

  “Well, I kind of had to push him out. And throw his clothes after him. But he was too shocked to really protest.”

  “Kate, you know I love you.” I moved my head so I could place it in her lap and stare up at her. “But you’re a mad one.”

  She shook her head, sighing. “I know. I don’t think I’m ever I going to fall in love.”

  “Not if you keep bringing strangers back,” Madison said. “You have to be careful, Kate. What if one of them doesn’t take no for an answer?”

  That silenced us for a moment, and Kate hung her head. “You’re right. But I just... Ugh. I’m so bad at meeting guys. You know. Actually meeting guys. And now I’m not even going to get to hook up with anyone! What with living at my parents’ house.”

  “Maybe you’ll meet someone at school,” I said. “Any hot teachers?”

  “No. Besides, they’re all in their thirties, anyway. There’s one cute one, but he’s engaged, of course.” She sighed again. “Someone else talk. My love life is too depressing. Madison? How ʼbout Graham?”

  “Who’s Graham?” The last time we’d had a long talk she’d been dating a guy named Peter.

  Madison let out a little smile. “Another one of these online guys. He’s an investment banker.”

  Madison only dated rich guys, unless she wanted to provoke her family.

  “And?” our horny virgin said. “Have you slept with him yet?”

  She laughed. “Yeah.”

  “How is he?” Carly asked.

  “He could use some work,” she admitted. “But I don’t mind teaching him.” She snagged the laptop from Carly and pulled up his online-dating profile. He had cookie-cutter good looks and a slightly pretentious tone. “Will he last?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I might keep him around for the reunion.”

  Kate groaned. “Ugh. Do you think most people are going to bring dates?”

  “Yes,” Carly and Madison chorused.

  Oh, I hoped not. “That’s dumb. This is not Hollywood. We do not need some guy to show off that we’re succeeding in life. Having a good job and being successful and independent is more important.”

  Madison pressed her lips together and lifted her brows. “But it is something of a consolation for those of us who don’t have a job or success.”

  I shook my head, exasperated. “You know what I mean. It’s just so...1950s. It drives me crazy.” I looked around at my friends. “Doesn’t it drive you crazy?”

  They all looked back at me. “Yeah.” Carly didn’t sound too enthusiastic. “But I don’t think anyone really feels like you need a boyfriend.”

  Except for, say, my mother. “Maybe not. It’s just—sometimes I get sick of the world acting like even if I am successful—not that I am—but that even if I have a job, and a great life, and fantastic friends, that I’m still supposed to be lonely and incomplete because I don’t have a boyfriend. Like that’s the most important thing. Like if I got a boyfriend, that would be the end of my story, and more important than if I got a great promotion.”

  “I don’t think people think that,” Kate said. “I think it’s more that—romance is fun, you know? Love’s sort of a unifying theme. Because everyone, in every culture, can relate to it. I mean, just look at literature—Shakespeare, obviously, and Homer. And Virgil’s Aeneid, Dante’s Inferno. Even the Bible—it starts with Adam and Eve, and there’s Abraham and Sarah, Esther and King What’s-His-Name. And all the myths—King Arthur, Robin Hood—they’re all romances, too. Oh, and what’s it—Layla and—and—Majnun! Persian story, early medieval? And it’s still around today.”

  Kate majored in anthropology before getting her education Master’s.

  “But aren’t those also about adventures?” Carly asked. “The Greek myths, and Robin Hood and King Arthur. Quests and stuff. Not just falling in love.”

  “Yeah, and what about Gilgamesh?” The Mesopotamian epic was the earliest literature I could remember, and I couldn’t recall any love story there.

  “Sure,” Kate said easily. “There’s adventure. But I think that’s the point. My point. If I have one. That while we might give, oh, monogamous relationships a little too much status right now, love really is important. Maybe it’s not for everyone, but it shouldn’t be dismissed, either, as silly or useless or fluffy. It’s not. It’s beautiful. God, I have stupid standards. No wonder I won’t sleep with anyone. As for Gilgamesh—Well, the theory’s that he was in love with his best friend.”

  Dammit. Even Gilgamesh had romantic elements.

  Madison shifted, clearly finished with ancient fictional heroes. “So, just to check—does this mean you haven’t met any amazing New Yorkers? Besides the scumbag?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Everyone’s heads swiveled. “Well, then.” Kate sounded pleased. “I guess occasionally love is a little bit interesting.”

  “Just you wait. I am also going to have an adventure-war story. There’s going to be sirens, and shipwrecks, and thieves and all sorts of things.” But maybe a bit of a love story wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

  “Uh-huh,” Carly said. “Who’s the boy?”

  I toyed with the blanket covering my lap. Sunflowers spread across a pale green background. “Well. Uh. It’s not a thing. I don’t have a thing. Or a boy.”

  They all leaned a little bit closer.

  “But...” I let the vowel draw out, “I have been having a rather long flirtation.”

  “Really? With who?” Madison asked. “I thought you said it was impossible to meet any guys besides gay theatre ones?”

  “Yeah. But. You know my roommate Eva, who brings me to her parties? Well, we went to one in the Village and I got a little lost, and ended up going into a different party.”

  Carly motioned for me to go on. “Where you met a guy.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. And then I left my scarf there, and I went back the next day, and since it was his friend’s place, he showed up. And then I ran into him one day and he gave me a lift.” I grinned. “On his motorcycle.”

  “Ugh!” Madison groaned, flopping over into her pillows. “You always get the ones with the motorcycles!”

  I wiggled my brows at her. “You should have gone to Italy, not England.”

  “So is this actually a thing?” Carly pressed. “Do you like him?”

  “I don’t know. I freak out about relationships. Stephen joined the Church, for God’s sake—”

  “No pun intended?” Kate slot in.

  I ignored her. “—and I messed up things with Antonio in Rome, and John, this guy I dated for a millisecond—I should never even have gone out with him. It’s like I sabotage myself.”

  “Okay, but do you like him?” Madison asked.

  I shrugged. “I feel looser with him. With John, I always wanted to put my best foot forward. But I think since I disliked Ryan so much at first, I honestly didn’t care what he thought of me, and now... It allows me to be snarky, or dorky, or bad-tempered. I feel really comfortable with him. I mean, not to say that he doesn’t drive me crazy and piss me off—but it feels like he’s been doing that forever, you know?”

  “No,” Madison said flatly.

  “I know.” Carly rolled her eyes.

  Kate laughed. “So have you guys hooked up?”

  “I kissed him on Saturday.” I gnawed on my lip and made a face. “I really like him.” I only allowed it to hit me now, here, safe with my oldest friends. “I guess I’m just scared. I don’t want this to tear me apart.”

  Even with the lows, there’re all those highs. And isn’t that better than a life of mediocrity?

  “Maybe,” I whispered, and looked up at the warm, concerned faces of my friends. “But maybe I should go for it?”

  “If you like him that much, yeah,” Carly said. “And you want someone you can be that comfortable with. Especially if he ge
ts past the rest of your impossible standards.”

  “So tell us about him,” Madison demanded.

  “Oh. Well. You might have heard of him.

  “Excuse me?”

  I grinned sheepishly. “He’s kind of famous.”

  “What!”

  “Good for you!”

  “Who is it?”

  Kate grinned widely, hazel eyes sparkling. “I bet it’s an author. Scruffy. Hipster.”

  “No, she didn’t meet him through work,” Carly said. “I bet rock star.”

  “This is New York,” Madison countered. “Lawyer? CEO?”

  I rolled over and grinned at the ceiling. “Actually, he’s a football player. Quarterback for the New York Leopards.”

  They all looked absolutely flabbergasted.

  “You are not dating Ryan Carter,” Carly sounded utterly shocked. “No freaking way.”

  “No, we’re definitely not dating. Just—flirting.” I felt unnaturally buoyant and cheerful.

  “Oh my God.” Madison got over her own speechlessness. “My brothers adore him. They have posters of him all over their rooms. Even Daddy thinks he’s great.”

  “Okay.” Kate looked around. “I am totally shocked that you’re dating a football player, but I have to say—who’s Ryan Carter?”

  I laughed and threw my arms around her. “I love you so much. That was exactly my reaction.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So what do you think about Sophie?” I asked Mom as we emptied the dishwasher the next afternoon. We’d just returned from a lunch out with the doting couple. We’d spent the entire time watching them nuzzle each other’s necks and exchange precious gems such as: “You’re so amazing,” courtesy of my brother, to which Sophie would return, “I know,” with a nauseating giggle.

  Mom glanced at me sharply. “You still have a grudge against her from high school.”

  “What? No. Why would you say that? I was totally polite.”

  Mom snorted, putting the silverware in the wrong slots, like always. I moved around her to sort them out. “I could tell.”

  “Oh, come on, Mom.” I turned all the forks the right direction. “They were so gooey I wanted to throw up.”

  She laughed. “Yes. That’s true. But. They seem to make each other very happy.”

  “How can such an awful human being make David happy?”

  Mom frowned at me. “I know she was mean in high school, but she seems like a nice girl now.”

  “Yeah, I bet hyenas seem nice too, until they eat their young.”

  She shook her head, but I could swear she wanted to laugh. “Don’t you think you’re a tad overreacting? Maybe you’re jealous.”

  “Please.” I stacked several plates and shoved them in the cupboard. “Of what?”

  “That your brother’s not paying as much attention to you as he usually does. That he’s in a nice relationship.” She shot me a sidelong glance and leaned against the counter, completely giving up on helping me with the dishes. “I still don’t really understand why this boy cancelled on coming over for Rosh Hashanah.”

  “Okay, first of all, he was not ‘this boy’, he was just a friend, and I told you, he ended up closer to home. And I am not jealous of any of that. God, Mom.”

  She made a disbelieving noise deep in her throat. “I just want you to be happy. I think of you, alone in the city...”

  “There are millions of people, and I have lots of friends. I’m not alone. Ugh, I can’t have this conversation right now, okay?” I slammed the dishwasher closed.

  That was the other problem with coming home. I lost a decade of personal growth and maturity.

  That night, my quartet met up with the remainder of our friends still in Ashbury. While many had migrated out to Boston or New York, rent hurt, and childhood rooms often morphed into post-graduate cells. Within an hour, a dozen of us gathered in the furnished basement of Jeremy Brown. More than I’d expected, but I wasn’t the only one in town for the weekend. My teenage crush Thomas Brewer had dropped by, and soon enough he appeared at my side.

  “Hey!” He greeted me with a huge, consuming hug, rather impressive considering his slim arms. Thomas was slim all over, a tall, slender guy with artistic scruff and rectangle glasses. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

  “Just for the weekend.” We flopped down on one of the couches. While my heart-rending puppy love had faded, he was still attractive, kind, funny, and achingly familiar. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve got tomorrow off from work, so I thought I’d come down for the long weekend.”

  I propped my chin up on my hand and smiled. “How’s the job?”

  “Oh, it’s great. We’re working on this new storyline and my boss has pretty much given me free rein. Except he keeps vetoing it when I put in killer penguins. I don’t know why. I thought everyone loved killer penguins?”

  I laughed. Thomas worked as the creative architect at a gaming company, and he kept me entertained with stories of plots and tongue-in-cheek descriptions of his coworkers. I listened happily, sitting there in that familiar basement with people I had known my entire life, drinking in the noises and feeling of my childhood.

  An hour later, we were still chatting, leaning into each other, when Kate stopped by. “We should head out. I have to wake up early for work.”

  “Cool.” He leaned back and included Kate in his gaze. “I’ll see you guys at the reunion?”

  “Of course.” Kate threw an almost-surreptitious glance at me before focusing on Thomas. “So, um, are you bringing anyone?”

  I managed to keep my wince small.

  “No, actually.” A slight grin crossed his face.

  “Weren’t you dating some girl from Boston?” Kate asked.

  His grin widened. “It didn’t work out. Are you guys bringing anyone?”

  “No,” Kate said, and I echoed her.

  “What was that about?” I asked as we left the party, heading for her scraped and dented junker.

  “Were you and Thomas flirting?”

  “What? No!” We slid into the car. “Why, do you think so? No, you know Thomas, he’s just super friendly.”

  “Yeah, well, he was ‘super-friendly’ with you for an hour.” We pulled out of the driveway. “He barely talked to anyone else once you got there.”

  I shook my head. The idea that Thomas Brewer could finally pay attention to me was just too ridiculous. Flattering, but silly all the same.

  That night, I revived an old daydream about Thomas visiting me. It used to be set in college, and he would come visit and find me surrounded by a flock of eager suitors. Filled with jealously, he’d finally realize how much he liked me.

  Only in this daydream, before I drifted off to bed, Ryan kept showing up. And this time it wasn’t Thomas who became jealous and realized his true feelings.

  Damn, I was in trouble.

  * * *

  Back in Brooklyn, I kept waiting for Ryan to call. It was irritating. Really irritating. Also, why was I waiting for him to call? Why wasn’t I calling him? I stared down at my cell phone, Ryan’s number highlighted, sweating from the pressure of hitting or not hitting the call button.

  Not hitting kept winning out.

  Eva watched with bemused bewilderment. “You like him. Just call.”

  “But I kissed him! He should call me!”

  “You’re being totally irrational.”

  “Argh!” I cried in agreement.

  By Wednesday, I couldn’t take the uncertainty any longer. We were sort of friends, weren’t we? I could call him if I wanted. In Ashbury, I’d kept wanting to tell him silly stuff, stories, or dumb little things my brother said. I’d wanted to hear him laugh.

  So, while Eva was out at rehearsal, I barricaded myself in my closet and pulled my blanket in after me. Closed, confined spaces boosted my courage. I pressed my cell to my ear and listened to the endless ringing. He wasn’t going to pick up. Of course not. The butterflies died, their corpses solidifyin
g into cold and heavy relief.

  “Hey.”

  I shot upright, banging my head on a closet shelf, before huddling back into my blanket. His voice was deep and low, and hit me the same way. “Hey!” I responded, appallingly chipper. “Are we on for dinner on Friday?”

  The silence stretched on too long. I closed my eyes. “Sorry,” Ryan said. “There’s a charity auction a bunch of us are going to.”

  “Oh.” I clutched my cell. I was an idiot. He didn’t want to see me. He hadn’t missed me at all. I shouldn’t have kissed him. “Okay. That’s fine. I just wanted to check.”

  Another silence, as I tried to figure out how to end this. “You could come if you wanted.”

  I froze. Like a...date? No. That was silly. We weren’t even real friends. He wouldn’t ask me as a date.

  So was he asking me as a friend?

  Wait, no, I’d just established we weren’t real friends.

  So was this a pity invitation?

  “Rachael?”

  “Uh, yeah. What’s this thing?”

  “...A charity auction.”

  Oh, God, he’d just said that. This conversation was going nowhere. Why had I thought calling Ryan was a good idea? “All right. Should I—meet you before? Or there? Or what?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  I winced at his unencouraging response. “Okay. Sure. I’ll think about it.” What was the matter with me? “Just text me the address.” Did he have to sound so enthusiastic about seeing me again?

  When we hung up, I called Abe. “Happy New Year.” I crawled out of my closet. “So. Are you going to this charity thing on Friday?”

  * * *

  That Thursday, Eva took me over to her friend Christine’s, and we plundered her wardrobe for a gown. Christine had turned her tiny second bedroom into a closet, and filled it with enough clothes to attend a year’s worth of theatre premieres.

  “You’re lucky you have no boobs.” Eva held a white gown up in front of the mirror. “You can actually wear these.”

  I didn’t have no boobs. They just weren’t D cups. “Hmph.” I pulled a blue dress. Pale, light, and wispy, it made me picture perfect fairy-princesses.

  “I think you should wear a red one.”