On the days when I want a change of scenery, there are a countless little towns all within a short drive from here, all of them offering their own brand of charming architecture, lush foliage, and unique vibes.
And the locals here are beyond friendly, most of them happy to chat up a stranger for a minute or two or stop to help you change a tire or give directions.
In a world where everyone’s constantly moving at a breakneck pace, time moves a little slower here.
The past five years have been a giant blur consisting mostly of writing deadlines and bad dates.
I pull up my Facebook account and search up Stone’s profile, tapping through his pictures until I get to the one of the three of us. There were times, I felt like I was dating both of them. Not romantically, of course. But we spent so much time with Stone that it felt like he was a permanent fixture in the relationship.
Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened had I not gotten sick in the bathroom the night I met them. Would I have chatted Stone up all night? Would I have given him my number? Would anything have come of it?
Jude was easy to fall for. If Stone was guarded and subdued, Jude was his outgoing alter ego. Jude was magnetic, making friends everywhere he went, chatting up strangers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Stone was more restrained, careful about who he let into his inner circle. It took a lot to earn his respect.
To be honest, to this day, I still don’t know if he ever respected me—or if he just tolerated me because I was Jude’s girl.
Tapping my messages, I pull up our previous conversation where my question still remains unanswered, and I replace it with a new one.
* * *
Stone—
Did you ever like me?
Best,
Jovie
* * *
I bite the backside of my thumbnail when I see that he’s online. His response comes instantaneously.
* * *
Jovie—
Define “like.”
Best,
Stone
* * *
I tap out my response and sit back, waiting, watching.
* * *
Stone—
Fine. I’ll be more specific: when I dated Jude, did you ever enjoy my company or did you simply tolerate me?
Best,
Jovie
* * *
He replies a minute later.
* * *
Jovie—
I don’t understand the context of this question so I’ll ask a couple of my own with the intention of gaining some clarity. Why do you need to know? And why now?
A little pro-bono advice for you: dwelling on the past has never done a damn bit of good for anyone.
Best—
Stone
* * *
I roll my eyes. I don’t have the energy for his signature deflection and unsolicited advice, so I type one final message.
* * *
Stone—
Please call me so we can discuss further. I’d hate for my sentiments to get lost in translation, and I’d love to put my query to rest in a timely manner. I can be reached at 555-284-7711.
I’ll be standing by.
Best—
Jovie
* * *
He reads my message immediately. I shut my laptop and glance at my phone, willing it to ring, but fully expecting it not to …
I wait another minute, then another before checking to make sure it’s on.
It is.
Trekking to the kitchen, I refill my water, sort through a pile of mail, and grab a fun-sized Snickers from my chocolate stash. I’ve all but given up when the faintest buzzing sounds from the next room.
Jogging back to my couch, I grab my phone off the coffee table and almost choke on my spit when I see an unfamiliar-yet-local number calling.
I clear my throat and answer on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Jovie.” Stone’s voice comes through the line.
“Wow,” I say. “I didn’t think you’d actually call.”
“I didn’t think I would either,” he says with a tease of sarcasm in his tone. It’s precisely the kind of response I expected from him.
I pull a throw pillow into my lap and get comfortable.
“Did you ever like me?” I ask once more. “As a person, I mean.”
“What brought this on?”
“I was just thinking,” I say. “Doing some self-reflection. You know me … my mind never shuts off for two seconds. That’s what you told me once, and you weren’t wrong.”
He chuffs. “I seldom am.”
“Anyway.” I roll my eyes at him, even though he can’t see me. “We spent a lot of time together back in the day.”
“We did.”
“Most of the time I felt like I annoyed you, like you were only around me because you had to be,” I say. “But other times, I felt like we were having a good time, like maybe you enjoyed my company? I was just wondering if that was all in my head or were we actually having fun?”
He chuckles. “Were you having fun?”
“Of course.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question,” I say. “What did you really think of me back then? And be honest.”