Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

14. Evilla

Chapter fourteen

Evilla

G en did the hi, I’m alive, I just got home, and everything went so well, but I’m super tired, so text me first thing tomorrow for all the deets routine when I was still at Mont’s. It was late, and I shouldn’t have been there at that hour, so I texted her back a goodnight moon and told her I would absolutely text her first thing when I got up.

I didn’t get home until past midnight since we watched a double feature. We made popcorn and got into the crab leftovers. I also found out that Mont loves black-and-white horror movies. I’ve never met anyone who likes black-and-white film anything, let alone old horror. I know those people are out there, and they probably exist in the millions, but I’ve truly never met anyone in person who shares that passion. My parents don’t get it, my sister gets visibly annoyed with me whenever I try to put one on, Gen can’t stand horror movies of any kind, and my other friends are pretty much the same. Gen’s fear is legit, and I can’t do any modern horror without losing my mind a little.

I set my alarm for eight this morning and hauled myself out of bed. I’m normally an early riser, and Gen will be wondering why the heck I’m not texting her at the butt crack of dawn. She doesn’t work weekends either, but her inner alarm gets her up early all the same.

Two espresso shots and a shower later, I’m curled up in my floral bathrobe, sitting on my couch and thinking about how it’s not awesome, vintage, or comfortable like Mont’s. I don’t have a mysterious growly bear hiding in the corner of my bedroom, and no sheep’s arse tried to take my head off. I find his place fun. It’s much more exciting than I would have ever imagined. It makes my apartment seem tame in comparison, and everyone is always telling me that I need to tone it down.

I start with a text about the dream I had in the middle of the night since Gen is big into dreams. She can decode just about anything.

Me: Are you awake?

Bestie G: You bet your bottom I’m up. I’ve been WAITING for you to text me! I didn’t want to wake you up, but I couldn’t sleep in. I’ve been awake since five.

Me: OMG, really??

Bestie G: You first. How was your night last night? Did anything fun or dramatic happen?

Fun or dramatic? Where would I even start with that? Those details aren’t for a text. It would look like a novel. I could speak the words into the phone, but going through and editing all the mistakes the voice-to-text thing would make isn’t fun. And it would still be a novel. I don’t text like my mom, and I can’t stand that she sends walls and walls of information.

Me: It was okay. I’ll tell you about it when we hang out. Are you free this afternoon?

Bestie G: Sorry, I have a hot date.

Me: With Connor?????????????!!!!! (Eye-popping emoji, brains blowing out of the top of the head emoji, screaming shocked face emoji)

Bestie G: With Connor. He’s alright.

Me: Just alright?

When Mont dropped me off last night, he walked me right up to my apartment door, even though I insisted I was okay. My legs were steady, my nipple never did start hurting past a low-level pinch-like pain after the numbing from the ice wore off, and he hadn’t kissed me in thirty minutes, so the rest of my body was also okay.

We didn’t make plans to see each other today or tomorrow. We work together, so we won’t have to wait a week. And we didn’t ask each other if we wanted to have dinner on a weeknight or if that would be too much. We didn’t clarify what we would be doing.

It didn’t really seem like we needed to have a long conversation in his car or the hallway. I know he’s not going to disappear, and he has the same reassurance about me. Not just because we work together. Neither of us was bristling with that unbridled need to set everything out in rigid lines or dating boundaries. We were comfortable. We were chill.

We’re going to be okay, I think.

I more than think. I’m sitting here grinning while my heart is racing crazily in my chest just thinking about last night.

Bestie G: It’s weird. Connor was a jerk at the restaurant, but after we left, he was fine. He’s had a rough time with his family. They’ve been getting to him lately. Anyway, it’s complicated. I’ll tell you about it when we hang out, too.

Me: I’m sorry to hear that. I thought something might be bothering him. Did he really mean all that bleak stuff he said about relationships and marriage?

If he did, can I stand by and watch my bestie possibly get attached to someone who might keep himself detached from her? Could Connor even love Gen? She’s a great person, and I know she’ll fall for him if he gives her the chance. She has a thing for choosing unavailable or inappropriate men. I would never say I wish she’d just go for more casual interactions, but it would save her a lot of pain and heartache.

Bestie G: It’s complicated. I can tell you more about that too.

Guard your heart! I want to scream those words. I want to text it. But I don’t. Who am I to be giving advice? I need to come clean about what my own night looked like.

Me: Mont and I decided we might want to try going on a date for real.

Bestie G: Whhhhhhhhhaaatttttttt? Ahhhhhhhhhh! Do I get credit for hooking you two up?

Me: I’m not sure credit is the right word. You do remember how I told you about him purchasing the company I worked at to kind of ruin my life and me almost quitting, right?

Bestie G: But everything worked out.

Me: Sigh.

Bestie G: You can take credit for the double date last night. I wouldn’t have met Connor otherwise.

Also, sigh. I’m not sure that’s a good thing yet.

Me: Be careful, Gen. I know I don’t say it often enough because you’re a grown woman, and I don’t want to sound like your mom, but I don’t want to see you get hurt again.

Bestie G: Don’t worry. I won’t fall in love with him.

Triple sigh. I’m not sure that’s true. I know I’ll be here whatever happens, and the I warned you, or I told you so thing will never be used by me, but it would be nice if there was one less man in the world I didn’t want to separate from their gonads for hurting one of the best women I know.

Me: We’re still just super casual about it. I’m not sure when our next date is going to be. We work together, and we want to keep it professional. Mont changed his mind about leaving, though. If things work out, maybe we could see some of the world together. My boss could grant me leave from work. (winking emoji)

Bestie G: Look at you! Dating the boss! Banging the boss! You’re always so proper. I highly approve of this new Evilla.

Me: Nooooo, we aren’t banging.

What was that last night, then? Don’t tongues and fingers count? Considering that was the best orgasm ever recorded in my orgasm history record books, I would say it counts.

Me: Kind of.

Bestie G: I’m not even going to ask what that means. You’ll eventually bang him. He’s hot. Go for it! Be wild! Have fun!

Me: Says the woman who didn’t want to go on a date with said man so badly that she gave herself hives.

Bestie G: I didn’t know he’d be nice. You can never trust a mom-organized blind date. (Knife emoji, fingers crossed emoji, kiss emoji, man and woman dancing emojis)

Bestie G: He was clearly meant to be with you anyway. And I’m taking credit. If you guys get married and have babies, I get to be named auntie and godmother.

Me: Do people still do godmothers?

Bestie G: Abso-tooting-lutely. (Air-gas-wind emoji)

Me: I don’t want to have kids until I’m eighty.

Bestie G: Liar. But no rush. I’d be happy with both those titles at forty, too.

Me: We’re getting ahead of ourselves. We haven’t even had an official date yet.

Bestie G: You’ve had a lot of unofficial ones.

I totally forgot about the dream I had last night. Now seems like a good time to ask. I don’t want to answer questions about official dates and babies. I hate the question about babies. Gen knows how much I hate that. She hates it, too. The big M word is a huge trigger for us, but the B word is just as bad. Marriage and babies. Ugh. Like that’s the only thing that matters in life. Mostly, it’s our mothers who use those words, and they use them endlessly, but it’s surprising how many strangers or well-meaning extended family members or even other friends will try and throw them into regular conversations and sort of infer that there’s something wrong with us if we’re not doing one of those two or we’re not even working toward them as end goals.

Me: I had a dream last night. I was at this incredible thrift store. It had to be the world’s best one, and I got so many awesome things. What do you think that means?

Bestie G: Prosperity! Hope for the future! Good things coming your way. A mindset of abundance.

Me: But when I woke up, it wasn’t real. Isn’t that symbolic?

Bestie G: Nah. Your brain is trying to manifest it. Or maybe your ovaries. (Laughing with tears emoji, flat line eyes and mouth emoji, fingers crossed emoji, world emoji)

Me: Ugh, that’s it. I’m signing off. Enjoy your hot date this afternoon. Text me and tell me how it goes. Or call me. If you’re free, we could do something tomorrow. Coffee? Thrifting cool stuff that doesn’t evaporate when I wake up? Riding giant pink cats around the park?

Bestie G: Where are these giant pink cats, and what park? I’m so there.

Me: I’ll do my best to find one. I was just making it up. (Upside-down smile emoji)

Bestie G: No, I couldn’t tell. (Laughing face emoji, smiling face emoji, thumbs up emoji)

Me: Have a good day. Call me if you need me. I’ll come for you anytime!

Bestie G: Thanks, sister from another mister. Let me know when your next (FIRST) date is. I’ll also come for you anytime if it bombs. And whenever else. (Heart emoji, smiley face emoji)

Me: (Heart emoji, heart emoji, heart emoji)

I haven’t had breakfast yet, and the amount of coffee I consumed earlier is starting to burn. It’s time to set the phone aside and work a Saturday morning pan scramble miracle in the kitchen.

Instead of putting my phone down, I bring it to the kitchen and turn one of my playlists on. But not the mellow stuff I like to listen to in the afternoon. Instead, I put on the rowdy, peppy dance music that always gets me going. Shaking my booty helps me shake it in the pan, too, and soon, I have a sausage, egg, tomato, and pepper scramble that smells divine. I’m a hot-sauce-on-eggs kind of a person, and after a liberal dousing, I hop up on the side of the counter and eat. I have a table right there in the small kitchen, but I’ve done this since I was a teenager.

I swear food tastes better when you’re elevated.

I don’t want to think about Gen’s last message since I know she was just kidding. She didn’t say it would bomb. She said if . I’m just worrying about her and Connor and borrowing trouble that doesn’t exist. The rocky start Mont and I had earlier was entirely due to the fact that we didn’t know each other. I lied to him, his feelings were hurt, and he went on a path of revenge.

But it wasn’t all revenge.

Not if I take into account what Connor said. Some parts were right. I know that now. It was more than just wanting to make my life miserable. I personally would have just looked up my number if I were Mont. He had my name, and he knew where I worked. He could have been nicer about the whole thing. He could have spent less money and been less intense. I might be flattered he went to such lengths if I look at it from Connor’s point of view. In that mindset of abundance, as Gen so nicely put it as she decoded my dream, if I put a positive twist on our limited history so far, I can be hopeful for the future. A misunderstanding isn’t really being enemies. Even if Mont was annoyed after being duped and treated to the worst date of his life, he had a right to be. Even if buying the pudding company wasn’t entirely rational, it doesn’t make him impulsive on the whole.

He’s rich and owns lots of companies, but he’s down to earth. He works hard, he treats people fairly, and he doesn’t act like he’s above anyone else. I busted his balls pretty hard, including accusing him of not having any when it came to his family, but do I have all my own stuff figured out? No. He was ready to drop everything and go off to discover what he wanted out of life. He’s rich, and he can afford to do it, but most people wouldn’t do that, even if they could. It’s kind of nice that he doesn’t have a prescribed future set out for himself. It’s refreshing to meet someone who isn’t leading a scripted life. He’s worked hard because he thought he had something to live up to, and he wanted to leave something behind, but he’s left the rest of his story open. What I viewed as immaturity was him bucking the system. It was creativity. I thought he was living his life full of fear, but he’s more fearless than I’ve given him credit for. I just didn’t understand the vein of it.

I’m just nervous.

We work together, and there’s room for error if he stays. He’s rich, and I’m not. We have all sorts of familiar expectations and pressures from the rest of the aspects of our lives.

But it could work. We could work.

The man saved me from murderous hornets, and thanks to him, I didn’t get any other stings, and my nipple is just fine today. I’ll give Mont credit for that, too, even though it might just be time and science. He also saved me from the sheep’s butt last night. Also, we’ll always have crab and old movies in common. And pudding.

I think that’s a pretty solid ground to start on.

Or restart on.