Love Nouveau (7 page)

“I know. I was just pissed at Matt. Who the hell does he think he is showing up unannounced and expecting me to fall back into his arms? I am so over his shit.”

“Yeah, well some guys will never change. Hopefully, he took the hint. So how’d it go with blondie?”

“It didn’t.”

“But you never just crash at someone’s house,” she says in disbelief.

“I know,” I admonish myself. “Sully, the blond, only started talking to me to introduce me to his friend Phoenix.”

Rachel throws her head back against the headrest and releases a deep belly laugh. “Guys are such idiots. Grow some balls and drop the wingman act already. Sorry it didn’t work out.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that…” I linger, deep in thought and suppressing a smile. “Phoenix was … he was different.”

“Different?”

I nod in response. Unlike most guys, he seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, unafraid to tease me, and didn’t have a main objective to get me into bed. Ironic since that’s usually
my
M.O.

“He was just an all-around good guy. Apparently, after I passed out, he tucked me in one of the spare bedrooms and slept on the couch.”

Rachel gives me a cautious, side-eye glance. “Really? And you actually believe that he tucked you in and slept on the couch?” she parrots in distrust.

“Yeah. I do, actually.” If he tried something I’d know, right? And if he had done something, he certainly wouldn’t have asked to see me again. I look down at the palm of my hand, feeling the heat from the touch of his lips.

We ride in silence, turning onto State Street in the direction of the capital. State Street is the quintessential downtown stretch found in every college town—local retailers, affordable restaurants, used record shops, all with a kitschy vibe. But there’s something extra special about the strip here in Madison.

“Hey, can we stop somewhere and get some grease with a side of breakfast?” With coffee and aspirin already in my system, grease is the last key ingredient to ridding myself of this hangover.

Rachel smiles at my request. “I thought you’d never ask.”

We find our way to our favorite greasy spoon. It’s just a few blocks off of State Street and usually frequented by locals instead of the standard college crowd. We discovered this dive our freshman year and would grab breakfast here at least once every weekend as it was our surefire hangover cure. Although, the last time I was here I was surrounded by friends right before I went abroad. It was also the morning that I dumped Matt.

When we arrive, Jody squeals from behind the counter and comes around to meet me. She still has the same beautiful round face with friendly wrinkles highlighting her smile. Over the past four years, nothing about this place has changed, not even the wait staff.

“Oh, Ivy. It has been far too long, honey! Welcome home.”

In this moment I realize that Madison really is my home. I would give anything to stay here after graduation, but Wisconsin isn’t exactly the art capital of the northern hemisphere.

“Hi Judy. I’ve missed you!”

“Oh, honey. You haven’t missed me. You’ve just missed Bert’s famous pancakes. I, on the other hand, have missed your tips.” She teases with a wink. “Can I get you your usual?” After all this time, Jody still remembers my favorite.

“Of course.”

Rachel and I are both halfway through a pile of blueberry buttermilk pancakes with sausage links when my headache finally subsides. Grease really does work wonders. Now is as good a time as any, so I decide to ask the question, hesitant to let her know the motives behind the request. She would certainly never let me hear the end of it.

“How would you feel about sticking around for one more night before heading back to Chicago?”

Rachel’s fork hangs in the air as syrup drips down off of her pancake. She eyes me curiously, processing the request.

“Why?” she asks slowly.

I shrug. I should just tell her I’m not ready to see my family again just yet, but I’ve never lied to Rachel before and I’m not about to start lying to her now.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that guy Phoenix, would it?”

I feel my face blush scarlet as I think of
that guy
and mindlessly twist a piece of my hair between my fingers. “Phoenix is only in town for a few more days. He wants to go grab dinner tomorrow night,” I say casually.

The clanking of Rachel’s fork dropping against her plate startles me. “You want to see him again?” I realize how uncharacteristic this request must be to her. I could never stay faithful to Matt, and even then I never saw the same guy more than once.

“Yeah, I do. I feel kind of bad for passing out on him like that.”

Rachel mulls over my request for a moment and shrugs her shoulders.

“That’s fine. Plus it’ll give me one more night with Eric before he moves back home to Seattle next week.”

Ah, the mystery man has a name.

Rachel springs into a long-winded story about how she met Eric at a Halloween party when they both showed up as Princess Leia in the iconic gold bikini. Eric was drawn to her body and bold costume choice for a chilly Madison night, and Rachel was drawn to Eric’s ridiculous sense of humor. Apparently he even shaved his chest and legs for the part. They have been hooking up nearly every weekend since. It’s obvious to me that she likes him way more than she wants to let on, but I understand her reservation for commitment with him moving halfway across the country.

As I lay down my debit card to pay for our meal, I notice the time and realize I have a little over an hour to get myself together and meet up with Professor Whitman before he closes his office door for the summer.

Within the past twenty-four hours, my future has gone from uncertainty and some dread to a future full of promise and exciting unknowns.

GRADUATION COMES AND GOES WITH the usual pomp and circumstance. Donning our caps and gowns, Rachel and I take photos throughout campus together, committing the best years of our lives to memory.

Walking down Linden and knowing I am leaving this weekend for good inevitably makes me sad. Madison has become my home, the place where I really established who I am and who I want to become completely untainted by my family.

I was okay not having my parents in town to witness the momentous occasion. I thought for sure I’d be upset at some point, but a long time ago I realized that just because someone is of the same blood, it doesn’t make them family; and really, Rachel and her parents and stepdad are more like my family than anyone else in my life.

Packing the apartment was bittersweet. Rachel recalled, in grotesque detail, the various encounters she’d had while I was away. She had a penchant for stealing something small from each of her hookups—a shot glass from a guy with jet black hair whose name she couldn’t remember, a hockey jersey from Roen, an avid San Jose Sharks fan, and an entire drawer of T-shirts she nabbed from Eric. I thought she’d eventually outgrow it, but as the adage says, old habits die hard.

I will miss her ridiculous stories and klepto tendencies when we leave this place, but it’s not like I’ll never see her again. At least we’ll be in the same city, if only for a little while.
Unlike Phoenix.
He seems really sweet, which makes me feel like I’m not good enough for him, and with us both going our separate ways tomorrow, I can’t help but wonder if it’s even worth it. I’m only setting myself up for inevitable disappointment.

I swallow that feeling down, and try to convince myself that I’m a brand new person and worthy of good things.

I am.

Really.

My mind drifts off to thoughts of him and suddenly I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing this very moment. If he’s thinking of me like I’m thinking of him. If I make him nervous like he makes me.

Rachel snaps me from my drifting thoughts. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“You’re all doe-eyed and just … not here.”

I roll my eyes and shake her off as I finish packing the contents of a bookshelf into a box. If I give her any indication that I’m thinking about a guy, it is going to open up the dam and I will never be able to shut her up. So instead, I do what I do best with her. I divert.

“So … this job in New York City sounds promising.”

Rachel stops packing up the dishes and looks at me from across the room. The emotion on her face is a cross between pride and heartache. Me officially leaving will inevitably be hard for her to swallow. We’ve been friends since elementary school and never lived more than ten minutes apart except for this past year.

The light in her eyes and her slow, timid smile tells me pride is winning over heartache.

“Tell me what happened.”

Catching up with Professor Whitman went as expected. I made it to his office hours about thirty minutes before he closed up for the summer, and we talked for close to three hours. He even missed his afternoon doctor appointment to catch up with me.

“Well, by the end of our conversation he’d called this James guy who owns the gallery to introduce me personally over the phone. And you know how Whitman gets. I barely did any talking, and he made me sound like I was God’s gift to the industry.”

“So you got it?” Rachel asks, bubbling over with excitement.

“Well, no. I still have to meet him in New York in a few weeks. Assuming he likes me and finds me competent, it sounds like it’s a done deal.”

I try to play it off casually but I know securing a job of this caliber right out of college is a huge deal. Actually, securing any job in this field without having to use my parent’s contacts is a huge deal. Surely my parents will see it that way, right? Regardless, I need this job to prove them wrong. Show them that Art History is a worthwhile path that can help me make a living and a name for myself professionally.

“Do you know what the best part of all this is?” Rachel asks. I arch my eyebrow, curious to see where she’s going with this one. “
When
you get the job,” she emphasizes, “I will never have to pay for another overpriced hotel in New York City ever again!” And with that she quickly changes the subject.

I’m really going to miss her mindless chatter. After all of our years of friendship, I’ve learned that Rachel doesn’t do farewells. She’s more of a “see you later” kind of gal. And as the closest thing she has ever had to a real sister, I know me leaving is going to take its toll on her.

No matter how much she masks it.

I’M LOOKING IN THE MIRROR trying to decide if I’m overdressed when I hear a knock on our door. Rachel runs to answer and I give myself a final once over.

Since most of my clothes are still packed up from Italy, Rachel dressed me in one of her jean skirts and a cabernet-colored eyelet blouse. Admittedly, I look cute, even if it makes me come across a little more innocent than I’d like. She forced me into a pair of her wedge heels, but I’m feeling a bit more down to earth tonight, so I kick those off and slip into my favorite pair of black Chuck Taylors.

The light that hits Phoenix’s eyes when I walk into our living room instantly brings butterflies to my insides. The nerves take over again and I feel the heat in my palm from when he kissed it yesterday morning. But that look … I would be content spending our entire date here in this living room staring at each other if he wanted to keep looking at me like
that,
like I’m the only female in existence.

It makes me feel like … well, no. It just makes me
feel.

“Hey,” he says softly with a smile.

“Hi,” I respond in a shy whisper.

I run my fingers nervously through my hair, tucking a piece behind my ear, but the strand falls loose. Magnetized, he quickly closes the gap between us and takes the strand of hair within his fingers. He smiles and tucks it behind my ear again.

I inhale slowly, willing my heart to slow down. He still smells of musk and damp earth, that familiar scent after a spring rain shower, such a heady combination.

And for a beat, I am certain he is going to kiss me.

After saying only one word to me.

And in front of my best friend.

That’s not awkward or anything.

From the corner of my eye, I see Rachel look from him to me, then back to him again. Then she clears her throat. I abruptly take a step back to put some space between us, feeling embarrassed.

“Before we go, there’s just something I need to do,” Phoenix says. He reaches for my purse, raising an eyebrow. “May I?” I give an approving, but curious nod, and watch him open it up, and fish around for something. Grabbing my iPhone, he holds it up triumphantly. “Found it!”

I watch him place it on the coffee table and give him a questioning stare. Just what are his motives?

“You won’t be needing this tonight.” He smiles smugly. I open my mouth to protest, but he beats me to the punch. “I know what you’re thinking. What if I need an exit strategy?” He grins boldly. “I can promise you Ivy whose last name I don’t know, you won’t need an escape. And if you’re having a truly horrible time with me, you can borrow my phone to call your roommate to come and save you.”

It’s impossible to not smile … and not be slightly annoyed. I’m an independent gal and having something like this out of my control makes me a little uneasy. Plus, this bolder side of Phoenix is a little surprising.