She was technically giving me two more minutes but I could hear her voice on the other side of the door, talking to someone on the phone. Maybe the hotel people were kicking me out after my dance performance in the lobby at 2:00 A.M. the night before. I can’t help the fact that the tile floor was perfect for break-dancing.
“Yeah, she’s okay.”
Silence.
“Nah, we left pretty early and she slept it off.”
Silence.
“Yeah, her body guard, Hank, was with us.”
Who was she talking to?
“Okay, bye.”
“Who was that?” I yelled through the door.
“The president.”
“Lies.”
“You’re right, it was Kanye West. Now get up.”
I wanted to care about the fact that she wouldn’t tell me who was on the phone, but I had no more room in my brain for caring. The moment I sat up, my brain switched over into anti-throw up mode. I walked to the bathroom like a small, frail hunchback and then did my best to avoid the mirror. But there was a smell in the air that I couldn’t place. I sniffed my shirt and my armpits, and while they weren’t a field of roses, they were at least recognizable. Then I pulled my hair to my face and smelled it. Soy sauce. When I glanced in the mirror, I realized I had what looked like a quarter bottle of soy sauce in my hair… which meant that I’d left the restaurant and gone to the club like that. Had I poured soy sauce on myself at sushi? Why?
Summer was going to die. Slowly and painfully.
After a shower and roughly one million cups of coffee, I staggered through my day, trying to be as present as possible. The meetings were interesting, but no amount of Advil would quell my pounding headache, so I just succumbed to the pain. I became one with it.
It wasn’t until lunch when Summer brought up the night before.
“Did you ever check your phone to read your drunk texts?” she asked as I poured dressing over my Greek salad.
I scrunched my brows in thought. Drunk texts? I didn’t recall any of those. I didn’t even think I had my phone after the restaurant.
“No, why?” I asked nonchalantly, taking a big bite of salad.
Summer’s eyes widened. “You remember doing that, right? Sending the text to Jason?”
I had to fight not to spit lettuce and tomato all over Summer’s face. After a painful swallow, I took a deep breath and reached for my phone. Summer was just playing a joke on me. I wouldn’t have texted— oh Jesus. Mother Teresa. I did.
There was a selfie of me with my drink in my hand. I was contorting my face into what I probably thought was a wink but more closely resembled a massive stroke. I had the soy sauce in my hair, and yup, definitely drool on my chin. Sloppy. I was a sloppy monster and I’d willingly sent this photo to Jason. I could only pray he hadn’t sold it to TMZ yet.
Two deep breaths later, I peered up at Summer. “From this moment forward, we will never discuss last night again. I’m going to erase it from my memory.”
Summer smiled and nodded. “Whatever you say, Captain.”
I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, that everyone does embarrassing stuff, but it really wasn’t the selfie that was bothering me. It was the fact that Jason hadn’t bothered texting me back. Didn’t he care enough to see if I’d made it home okay?
By that afternoon, I had convinced myself to concentrate on work and ignore the lingering thoughts of Jason. I had to repress the urge to replay our encounters over and over again. Even still, for the remainder of the trip, I’d close my eyes and think of his kiss in the bathroom. It was so easy in fact, that I’d imagine him and relive our time together for what felt like hours until I realized what I was doing. Then I’d reprimand myself and fill my head with the conversations from my mundane meetings. It would last for ten minutes, maybe fifteen, and then I’d slip, and the cycle would start all over again.
It was no use. I was going insane, with thoughts of Jason pushing me over the edge.
…
Two long days later, I found myself back at Jason’s house just after midnight. They’d left the door unlocked for me since apparently no one gets robbed in the middle of the woods in Montana. The house was quiet when I let myself in, but I welcomed it. It meant I wouldn’t have to face Jason just yet.
I’d had one last day of meetings and then I’d endured the ride back to Big Timber by myself, since Summer was scheduled to fly back to LA from the Billings airport. I tried to take a nap during the ride back to Big Timber, but instead, I’d opened and reopened my text messages wondering why I still cared that Jason had never texted me back. I suppose it gave me a definitive answer concerning Jason. The friendship I thought was slowly forming between us was most definitely not forming. We were still at square one. Except, we weren’t even enemies anymore. We were absolutely nothing. Not even worth a text back.