Her quick response surprises me.
Indy: I did. Hank was very accommodating.
I grin and type out a pithy response.
Me: Exactly how accommodating?
My phone vibrates with her response a moment later.
Indy: He stopped at Taco Bell on the way home and bought me dinner.
A laugh escapes me when I read her message. Apparently, I’m not the only one under Indy’s spell. My fingers fly over the electronic keyboard, and before I know it, I’m doing the exact thing I claimed to be above during her exit—pushing her to see me again.
Me: Are you busy tomorrow night?
I watch the text bubbles appear and then disappear several times, and I know she’s mulling over my question. She probably doesn’t know what to say, and I’m coming to find, with Indy, it’s a lot of push and pull. Even when she wants to do something, she has to consider it carefully before allowing herself to concede.
I don’t know why I know these things about her, but I just do.
All I can do is let it guide me.
Indy: I guess that depends…
I grin at her cryptic text.
Me: On what exactly?
Indy: On what you’re about to ask me to do.
Me: Let me guess, if it’s something you don’t feel like doing, then you’re going to be conveniently busy…
Indy: Good guess. If it’s something I’m into, then I’m free.
Another laugh escapes my throat at her cheeky response.
Me: My brother is playing a show tomorrow night. Rookwood Music Hall. 8 p.m.
Indy: Is that so? How neat.
Neat? My eyebrows pinch together with suspicion.
Me: Yeah. He’s the lead singer for New Rules.
Indy: Oh wow. That is brand-new information!
I chuckle and type out a teasing message.
Me: Crazy thought here. Did you, by any chance, already know who my brother is?
Indy: It’s possible that I’ve seen it before on the Google.
The Google. Hah. I wonder if that means she’s been Googling me. God, I hope so. Seeking out information via an internet search may not be the way a man usually wants a woman to learn his secrets, but I can only see the positive. It would confirm that she wants to know more about me.
Me: So, does that mean you’ll go?
Indy: Yes. It turns out I’m free, after all.
Tomorrow night, I’ll see Indy again, thanks to my brother’s concert.
Maybe his help isn’t so bad, after all.
Indy
I’ve been a ball of emotions all day. A pressure cooker of excitement and guilt and anxiety, all of which turns to complete overload where I feel one thousand moods all at once and everything falls apart. Kind of like a rump roast.
And Ansel is at the forefront of it all.
My new bestie.
Good grief.
Friendship really is all I can offer. I know that, and I mean it. But post-declaration of that, my heart feels sluggish and my skin is clammy, and I’m so confused about what I want out of life that my willpower seems to have completely left the building.
So, despite the doubts, not once do I ever consider canceling my evening. Nope. Instead, I rationalize.
Friends go to concerts together all the time. If anyone else had tickets and backstage passes to see New Rules, I’d be there in a heartbeat. We’d sing and dance, and nothing else would matter.
If I’m going to commit to being friends with Ansel, we have to really act like friends, and that means doing things like going to the concert and supporting his brother.
It’s completely innocent, and assigning it any more consideration is way more offensive to my relationship with Matt than going to the concert.
Right?
Right.
I dress for the weather, slipping on my favorite pair of jeans, brown ankle boots, a cozy cream sweater and the soft pink pleather jacket that I’ve had for at least three years but love dearly. I keep my hair and makeup simple—a natural color palette and my brown locks long and wavy.
The living room is quiet as I sit down on my sectional, dressed fully and ready to go—almost an hour early.
My knees bounce and my fingers fiddle, and when I finally can’t take the silence anymore—a whopping fifteen seconds later—I turn on the TV and mindlessly flip through the channels. The episode of Mike and Molly where she’s trying to write a book is on, so I settle on that, knowing it’ll make me laugh.
About thirty minutes before Ansel is supposed to pick me up, I get a text message from Matt.
Matt: Sorry I missed our FaceTime call today, baby. I was stuck in meetings all day. It’s close to one in the morning and I’m dead on my feet, but I’m also missing you. Do you want to chat real quick before I go to bed?
I glance to the clock and back to the show. I really like this episode. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to see it again, and Ansel could be here anytime. It would be rude to keep him waiting.