Don’t Be in Love

35

Don’t Wait Until You Regret It — Adelaide

As 8 p.m. appeared on the clock, Maureen (and Kurt) retired to their apartment with a promise to return for January’s book club in two weeks.

Darkness and exhaustion swept me. I switched off the lamps peppering the flat before ending up back in my room.

I stopped at the door and looked at my bed with aversion. My pillows and duvet were rustled from how I left them this morning. Unmade and unkempt. But the dreams that rested between the dips in the mattress caused by restless turning were what stopped me.

Would it be ridiculous to sleep on the couch just to avoid another dream? Shake up the night routine and hopefully jumble the dreams?

“I’m going insane,” I muttered.

My phone buzzed in my pajama pants pocket. I pulled it out and found James’s name on the screen.

“Hi James,” I smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

“It’s Happy Christmas. If you’re going to live in London, you have to learn the lingo.” I could hear the buttery-sweet smile in his voice too. “But Merry Christmas to you too.”

“Apologies, mate ,” I responded. “How’s Italy?” I kicked off my slippers, switched off my light, and slithered into my bed. The darkness through the balcony door dragged against the walls. I was sure it was still snowing, but I couldn’t see it.

I rolled on my side and put the phone on speaker, watching the young family across the street move through their apartment window. It was painted a butterscotch yellow in the dark.

“Beautiful as always, and still warmer than London, that’s for sure. I’ll miss not having to pack on so many layers.” There was a clink of wine glasses and a murmur of voices behind him.

“I know it’s only been ten days since our final but I’m starting to miss you,” I said

“Hop in a cab, I’ll find you a flight to Rome this instant.”

I laughed. “Sure, let me grab a cab with the pajamas on my back and the retainer in my mouth.”

He paused. “You’re kidding.”

“Of course I am! I’m not impending on your vacation just because I’m alone. Mia will be home in a few days for New Year’s Eve anyway.”

“I guess we’ll be back not too long after that.”

We .

“Is Dorian with you?” I couldn’t help but ask. I bit my tongue, praying I wasn’t on speaker phone.

“Yeah, he’s sitting with my mother right now—we’re at dinner together. I needed a break from all the scheduling, so I left him to listen to plans about The January while I stand outside pretending that I got a call.” He laughed. It sounded like he was turning his head to look.

“What’s happening in January?”

“ The January.”

“Is that how we’re talking now?”

“It’s an annual ball. You haven’t heard of it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s the only gala in London that happens in January, hence the name. It raises money for fashion museums throughout the UK. You really haven’t heard of this?”

“No James,” I laughed. “I’m not part of the underground exclusive cult this entire university is in. Continue. Explain on.”

“Fine, fine. My mum and Mrs. Blackwood are both on the board of the Art and Fashion Legacy of London so they’re in charge of planning it. It’s the first Friday of January so every Christmas they’re running around with their phones attached to their heads making phone calls.”

“You sound thrilled about this.”

“Ironically, I do enjoy it. It’s hosted at an art museum so it’s quite beautiful. But being dragged into calling the caterer and helping make the guest lists? Not my favorite pastime. Wait—you’ll come right?”

“I’m only just hearing of it now! I’ll think about it.”

The idea of seeing Dorian for the first time in a public space after kissing him sounded … risky. I couldn’t even think about him in solitude without my stomach twisting into complicated, unforgiving knots.

“I’m putting you on the guest list. Mia and Sabrina too.”

“I’m so grateful that you’re always looking out for my schedule.”

“It’s before the semester even starts so you won’t have any impending work. And you owe me a dance from Halloween anyway.”

“Fine, you caught me! I’m available, I’ll come!”

“Thank god because I wouldn’t survive an event without Adelaide Adorno.”

“I’m sure I’ll be so much help,” I said sarcastically.

“Your company will be, trust me.”

There was a comforting lull that passed between us. One that was soft enough to push my eyes closed.

“Alright, I have one more call before I fall asleep. Send me all the details and we can talk about it more when you get back,” I said.

I hung up and searched for the number that sat at the bottom of my contact list but at the top of my mind. I pressed Call before I could second guess it and back out in the morning, knowing Maureen would be proud of me.

“Hi Laila. Do you have time for those questions?”

By the time our call finished, that vault tucked away in the back of my brain relaxed a bit more. It was awkward talking to her. Between fumbling over each other’s words and trying to fill the silent gaps so that we stayed on the topic of cover letters, I was tired, filled with an anxious buzz. Especially when she asked if we could talk again next week. I agreed, thinking that if I said no, I’d regret it.