The Thorne at My Side

CHAPTER 30

Hello Old Friend

MAGGIE

"You'll need to papers your turn, I mean, turn your papers in at the beginning of class next week. Remember I'll be looking for your sauces, I mean, sources, so please note them correctly. Okay, that's enough from me, see you next week."

I shake my head as I start to pack up, I've never had so many blunders in a lecture before. I'm sure the students are wondering if I'm drunk.

Part of me feels intoxicated.

I woke up to a message from DCFox this morning.

It’s been two months of silence since Christmas Eve and a soft ping from inside my bedside table drawer stirred me awake.

It was short, sweet, and even though he cracked me into a thousand pieces by not showing up back in November I felt like sunshine seeped in through those cracks and warmed my soul when I read his words.

DCFox: My friend, hello, good morning? I know you used to respond to my messages in the morning and I have long savored the idea that reading my notes was how you started your day.

I've been thinking of you a lot lately and if you read this please answer just one question; are you in?

Am I in?

In what?

With him?

In trouble?

Because, yes.

I brought my SMS Connect phone with me to campus today. I wanted to feel close to it. To him. I run my thumb down the side of the phone while I read the message again. I haven't responded yet but based on the physical reaction I got to this text I think I need to be honest and tell him that yes, I am in.

All in.

With my gaze down staring at the message, and my head in the clouds deciding how I’ll respond, I don't see the person standing right outside the classroom door. I bump into them hard.

"Oh, Excuse me. I'm so sorry, I wasn't…Austin?"

"Hi Maggie."

Every muscle in my body simultaneously freezes and goes up in flames. I think I'm standing up straight but with the way the earth is tilting I have to lean towards him.

Austin Thorne is standing in front of me and looking like a wet dream. His hair is longer than it was in the fall, but not too long. I like it. His glasses are perched on his nose and the scruff he’s sporting adds a sexy new dimension to him. His eyes are dark and rich like a cherry wood desk but they sparkle like he’s picturing doing me on it. I’d be into that.

Way into it , I think as I look down. Did he get more muscular or did my memory fade over the last few months? He's in a suit but no tie, the top of his shirt is open and it's almost indecent. His shoulders are round and curling towards me because his hands are behind his back.

Desire takes over. I want to rub my nose along the spot where his neck meets his chest. I want to inhale him. I want to feel his heat inside and out.

I want him.

"I heard you were teaching and I wanted to see how you were."

"How did you hear I was teaching?" My question comes out at half strength because I'm not confident I'm breathing.

"Sam told me."

“Sam never said she talked to you."

"Checking in on me MC?” He smirks and I feel myself blush.

"No, but I heard about the program being canceled and I may have looked into it a bit further" I deny but I can hear how flat it falls.

"I'm starting to work on some other things. But I didn't come here to talk to you about my work."

"Oh, no? What did you come here for?"

"I wanted to get your thoughts on something."

"Yeah, what?" I say with a little more sass. His vague sentences are starting to annoy me, I can feel my breath returning and my insides are warming up for a fight. Our old dynamic is back and I don’t hate it. I feel alive.

"I wanted to see if we could be friends."

"Friends?"

"Friends. You know, two people who talk about things, hang out occasionally, drive the other to the airport, that sort of thing."

"Don't you have a car service on retainer?"

"Well it would be you using my car service if you needed it I guess. That still counts I think. I'll have to check the rulebook."

I hate myself for it but I laugh. He's charming. And now that I’m coming out the other side of my job loss I can separate Austin from the product he invented.

"You really think we can be friends?"

"I do, now that we're not competing, I think we have everything we need for a storybook friendship."

"You might have to work a little harder than that," I reply as my hand floats up to his bicep. Might as well own it; I am flirting with him. I didn't mean for it to happen but the eyes, the scent, the muscles, just the proximity to him is doing things to my brain.

"I plan to," he says and then he pulls a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back. "I'll see you around, MC."

I take the soft white and pink tulips wrapped in kraft paper and twine and look up at him as he takes a step backwards and turns.

He's just going to walk away? Suggest we become friends and then leave?

"Okay, sure," I mutter mostly to myself because Austin is already halfway down the hall.

There’s a bench outside of the building and I sit down in a daze. It isn’t even afternoon and my day has been one surprise after another. I reach for my phone and dial.

“Hey, big sis!” Liz answers on speaker phone, I hear a dog bark in the background. “Do you mind chatting while I take Mitsy’s portrait?”

“Uh, no, that’s fine.”

“What’s wrong?” Liz asks. She is becoming more and more like Mom. The way she can read into my mental state immediately is unsettling but incredibly helpful.

“He texted.”

“Foxy man?!”

“Yes, he texted and asked if I was in,” Honestly I could recite the entire message for her, it is imprinted on my brain.

“So, are you?”

“Well, I was, I mean, I am, I,” I exhale and regroup. “Austin showed up after class with flowers and asked to be my friend.”

“Wow, good for you!”

“Liz, that’s not helpful, what do I do?!”

“Why not say yes to both? Does Austin want to be friends or friends ?”

“I think just regular friends, we kinda flirted but that’s just how he is.” I admit. But, do I want to be more than friends with him?

“Okay, and would you give DCFox another chance if he asked to meet again?”

“Yeah, I’m still drawn to him and wildly curious about who he is.”

“Then reply and say you’re in and let friendship with Austin be whatever it is.”

“You make it sound so clear cut,” I tell her.

“Well, it can be. You don’t have to pick between them, yet.” I hear Liz’s little giggle. “Seriously how do you go from being the pickiest dater in history to having two guys falling at your feet?!”

“If I knew I’d tell you,” I mutter as I twirl the SMS Connect phone in my hand.

“Dang it, no Mitsy, no!” Liz yells out. I hear rustling in the background. “I gotta go.”

And the line goes dead.

I stop spinning the little device and open the thread.

TalkShopGirl: I’m in.

◆◆◆

"Good morning, Maggie Collins!"

"Holy shit!" I yelp as I skid to a stop outside Sunrise. "Austin?"

"The one and only, well, not really, but the one you know and, well I was about to say love. That isn't really true is it? The one you know and…”

"Despise?"

"Ouch," he pulls a hand up to his chest like he's wounded. In the arm that is still by his side I see a little box.

"What's that?" I point to it.

"A gift for you," he says as he hands it over to me.

"You can't buy my friendship, you know," I say with a smile as I pull open the ribbon on the small square package. Austin looks delightfully disheveled this morning in jeans and a gray t-shirt. The soft cotton frames his broad chest that looks firmer than I remember. While my eyes notice the physical changes in Austin since the fall, my heart is stumbling over the flowers and now the surprise present.

"I've got money to burn so I'm going to try."

I roll my eyes as I open the box. It's a gift card to Sunrise. I pull it out of the tissue and look up at him.

"A gift card to the bakery on my street?"

"I want to buy you breakfast," he says with a small shrug. He takes a barely noticeable step forward but I can feel the electric charge of his body through the post-exercise heat of mine. "And since I probably can't do that after spending the night, this is a way for me to buy you breakfast every morning. There's five grand on the card."

"Five thousand dollars?!"

He throws his head back and starts laughing. It's a rich, sexy sound. If I wasn't livid with him for this gift I'd probably throw my arms around him and kiss him to try and swallow the sound for myself.

"No, but oh, shit, that was worth it," he wipes at tears in his eyes. "I put fifty bucks on it," he holds up a hand. "Scouts honor."

I push his shoulder hard and he stumbles backwards with another giggle. I turn and start walking to my apartment and I hear him grab his skateboard and jog to catch up to me.

"Aren't you going to buy me breakfast? It's what a friend would do."

I roll my eyes. "I'm starting to wonder what kind of friends you have."

"I've got great friends," he defends. "I'm trying to add another one to the mix."

"Well this friend has a seminar at 10:00 so she's got to go upstairs, shower, and get ready."

"Can a friend help another friend with their shower?" He asks as a devilish grin spreads across his face.

"No." I say sternly. But Little Maggie between my legs screams yes. I open the door to my apartment building and then pause before going all the way in. I turn back to him, "thanks for the gift card, I hope you have a good day, friend ."

"She called me friend!" He yells as he lifts his arms victoriously and spins in a circle. A laugh bursts from my mouth. A woman with a stroller walks past and he turns to her and reports, "She called me friend!"

"Ohmygod, get out of here," I laugh as I close the door.

The smile doesn't shrink from my face as I shower, as I get dressed, as I pack up my bag.

There wasn't a message from DCFox when I woke up this morning but I check the phone before I leave anyway because I've quickly become re-addicted to messaging with him.

There's a new message.

DCFox: I don't understand women. I know that's a broad statement but time and time again I find myself questioning their logic.

Nails for example. I don't know if I've ever given one thought to a woman's nails but I hear women talking about their nails constantly. What shade. What shape. The trends.

Am I supposed to notice a woman's manicure? Compliment it?

Would it be terrible to admit that I think it's a waste of money?

I laugh and look down at my almond shaped chrome manicure that I got refreshed over the weekend. Since I started teaching I've been branching out into different shades and it's been fun.

TalkShopGirl: I don't think it's terrible to admit but never say it to a woman's face. Her nails are a means of self expression. A way to admit her into the in-crowd or to set her apart. Men may not care but other women notice it.

I once heard a woman say that crazy girls have chipped nail polish and I've never been able to forget that. So, each week, I dutifully get my nails done. I used to do the same shade that was basically skin tone but, recently I've tried new colors. I'll admit it is fun to try something new but it is also agonizing to try and pick a color.

Even if it is just for a week, red nails say one thing, purple says another. Designs and art is another world I have yet to explore.

I hit send and slip the phone into my bag. I lock up, and by the time I reach the corner there’s a new message.

DCFox: Okay, but now I have to know, what does red nails vs purple say?

TalkShopGirl: I don't know but it says something. It's a vibe.

DCFox: See, this is why I don't understand women. Explain it to me!

TalkShopGirl: Have you ever had your nails painted?

DCFox: No.

TalkShopGirl: Well, when you do, you'll understand.

DCFox: So since I'm too manly to have my nails painted you won't explain a color vibe to me?

TalkShopGirl: Is it manly to be closed minded about trying new things?