Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“Gotcha.” He dashes off as I knew he would.
“And another for me,” Marcy calls behind him.
He waves like he’s got it under control.
Marcy leans back with a gleam in her eyes. Crossing her arms over her chest, she says, “You never order cosmos. What gives?”
I lean back too, mimicking her. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s time to move on and try new things.” I hate to admit that it might include letting my Poet go. He didn’t look miserable. He looked good, like life is treating him well. I hope it is. He deserves it.
“Why are we here again, Marcy?”
She laughs, the sound echoing around us on the street. “Shhh.” Her finger is pressed to her lips, but then she startles like I had done it. Pointing at me, she sways. “You dragged me here.”
“I’m drunk,” I state, defiantly poking my chest as if being wasted wasn’t obvious. “I’m in no state to be leading anyone anywhere.” A finger wag catches my attention until I realize it’s mine I’ve been watching. “Why would you trust me?”
I turn in a circle to find Marcy not looking her best. Her head swivels on her neck, and with her hands planted on her hips, she replies, “Of course, I trusted you. You think I have my shit together? I’m drunk.” She looks at the building, then back at me again. “Is it safe here?”
“How would I know? The only time I was here was with a guy who was way bigger than I am.” It fascinates me how I can remember hugging myself to his chest, the scent of his cologne coming back, but was he six-two, six-seven, or . . .? He could have been seven feet for all I know. I just remember not worrying about my safety with him. I was protected and felt it.
I look down the street one way and then the other, not feeling so secure in this idea of coming here at night with another girl who’s just as drunk as I am.
“Well, we’re here.” Throwing her hand in the direction of the building, she says, “You came to see if he was here, so you need to follow through, or the eighty-three dollars for the ride over was for nothing.”
I’m still surprised I even found the place. We circled three blocks in the area before I recognized the building. “Okay.” I reach into my bag and pull out my lip gloss to put on as I study the entrance. I look at Marcy, hoping she’ll save me.
She doesn’t, and says, “Good luck.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I head toward the steps, clearly leaving my better judgment at the restaurant where this plan got concocted over a fourth round of cosmos and not enough food in our stomachs. I pause on the bottom step because this doesn’t feel like a great idea anymore. What will I do if I see him? What will I say? Oh hey, I saw you on the train today and was wondering if you have any good books to recommend?
God, this is the worst idea ever.
I take a step up, then the next three, before jiggling the handle to see if it’s open. It’s not. Staring at the locked door, I say, “Now what?”
“Buzz him to let you in to confess your undying love for him.”
I swore that tonight was a fresh start, and Keats would no longer be a part of my daily thoughts. I’d kick him out of my chest, where the memory of us thrives, and try to find someone else to fill his spot in my heart. Impossible.
We are still unfinished business. Until it’s resolved, there’s no moving on.
I tug on the door. It releases and sends me back a step. My gaze whips back to Marcy, who jumps up and down in a silent cheer. She stops to sweep me inside with the back of her hands. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I enter the small lobby and am confronted by the stairs that will lead me back to him.
The door slams behind me, causing me not to just jump but to start the trek up the four flights to his door. I don’t know what I’ll say. There’s just this urgency I feel building from a need inside me.
I reach the landing and notice a doormat with a black cat design that reads wipe your paws. Keats never came off as a cat kind of person, but is that something I’d have known in the short time we were together? No . . . maybe? I don’t know. How would I know this information? He didn’t have one back then.
I knock before I lose my nerve. Straightening my back, I raise my chin, hoping I don’t look drunk. The sound of feet coming is heard just before the locks are unlatched and the door is opened.