Drumbeats into My Heart

16. Jordi and the Ex

Lots of people smile at me during my bike ride home, probably because I'm grinning like a lottery winner. He finally did it. Seth finally asked for my phone number. I suppose I could have been a modern woman and asked for his first, but I wasn't quite sure what this was or where it might be going. Whatever the case, I'm just glad he was able to wrestle whatever inner demons were in his way to get there. He may not be bold or dashing, but he's still charming in that shy puppy-dog kind of way.

After getting home, I gulp a glass of water and collapse onto the couch to rest. I pull out my phone to smile at the text message he'd sent me so I'd have his number too.

WOOHOO! This is Seth by the way.

His excitement is both cute and contagious. I barely know the guy, but I can't seem to stop smiling.

The phone vibrates in my hands, and for a brief second I'm surprised Seth is calling me already.

Then I look at the call display.

Wait, Dustin? Why is he of all people calling me? He'd said nope to our relationship months ago, before heading off to football camp with his buddies. He's got no business calling me.

I swipe at the phone to reject the call.

Seconds later, a text message from him comes in.

Got back from camp a few days ago. I need to talk to you. Can we meet?

I stare at his message, completely baffled why he needs to talk to me.

Another message arrives seconds later. Please? It's important.

I start wondering if maybe his grandmother died or something. They were pretty close. Maybe he just needs a sympathetic ear.

Fine, I reply.

Great! Pick you up in an hour.

My eyes widen at his last message. An hour? So much for relaxing this evening.

I force my butt off the couch and jump into the shower because I am a sweaty mess. As I get ready, reasons for his call keep turning over and over in my mind. Maybe his dad got sick? Or his frat boy brother got into an accident? That wouldn't be surprising considering what a jerk-faced party animal that guy turned into when he went to college.

Then something else occurs to me. Something that forms a knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach.

What if Dustin wants to get back together?

My hand freezes on the drawer handle. Would that be a good thing or a bad thing? I mean, do I want him in my life anymore? He wasn't a bad guy, but he wasn't the best boyfriend either.

I sigh and let my hand drop. Maybe I'm working myself up over nothing. Maybe he just needs volunteers for some football fundraiser or something.

With a small shake of my head, I get back to dressing, but my progress is halted again as I stare into my closet. What exactly does one wear when an ex-boyfriend calls and says we need to talk? Do I want to impress him? But why would I want to do that? Do I want to get back together with him? What about Seth?

I rub my forehead as my indecision turns to agitation. What is wrong with me? We'd been happy for a time, and then he ended it for some stupid reason. And now it's over. I'd made peace with it some time ago, and now I've got a chance at something better with the slightly dorky but totally adorable Seth. To change my mind now would mean I'm a wishy-washy waffler.

I smile at the term my mom used to use to describe love triangles on TV. She hated those. "What a bunch of wishy-washy wafflers. Just make up your mind and move on!" she would say as she threw a lumbar pillow at the screen.

With a wistful smile, I decide on a sensible outfit. I don't need to impress Dustin in any way, so I'll just wear what I always wear to performances: a long, flowy skirt with a V-necked t-shirt. It's a comfortable ensemble, and what I need right now is comfort. Also a little more cash, but for now I'll take comfort.

A familiar beeping outside announces his arrival. It used to irk me that he never came to the front door when we were dating. He always cited that parking was terrible at this apartment complex. He wasn't wrong, but I secretly wondered if he just didn't want to risk accidentally meeting my dad.

With a quick glance in the mirror, I fluff my hair and head out.

Dustin's "chariot", as he calls it, is double-parked as usual, engine idling. The ancient VW Bus still sports an extravaganza of orange paint, graffiti, and rust. I can see Dustin waiting inside, long arm draped over the back of the passenger seat, head bobbing slightly to the thrash heavy metal blaring inside.

I always did hate his taste in music.

I take a few steps and pause, stomach quivering with nerves at the sense of familiarity. How many times did he pick me up for a date in this same exact way? Is this a date? Does he think he's going to slip back into our old routine?

Absolutely not. This is not a date, and I'm going to make sure he knows it. He ended us before gallivanting off to camp, so he can't just waltz back in whenever he feels like it.

With a deep, fortifying breath, I march to his vehicle and stand outside.

He sees me right away and turns down the stereo. "Hey, babe!" he says with that lopsided grin I used to find so adorable. His straight blond hair still reaches his shoulders. His pool water eyes look genuinely pleased to see me, as they usually do. Everything about him seems the same, even his hey babe. One thing different though.

I squint at the tuft of hair under his bottom lip. "Is that a soul patch?"

He brightens and rubs it with his fingers. "Yeah! You like it?"

Honestly, it looks like pubic hair. "Um, I don't know."

His smile doesn't waver. "That's okay. You'll get used to it. Mom says it looks like a pygmy jerboa died on my chin. I don't even know what that is. A small snake, maybe? Doesn't make any sense. That's my mom for ya."

I stare at him, at his pygmy jerboa soul patch, wondering when he's going to say what he came to say.

"You getting in or what?" He twists toward me, casually hanging an arm over the steering wheel like everything is cool.

But everything is not cool.

"Why are you here, Dustin?"

"I've missed you."

I drop my gaze to my sandals, not sure what to say to that. "Oh."

"I think I made a mistake."

My stomach flips, but I decide to crack a joke instead. To look him in the eye and show him that this doesn't bother me one bit. "What, you think you should have gone to baseball camp instead?"

Not even a little chuckle. "No. Jordi, I think I shouldn't have broken up with you."

More stomach flips. Is he suggesting what I think he's suggesting?

"What do you want?" The question comes out a bit harsher than I intend, but at this point I don't care.

"I want to talk to you."

"We're talking."

"No, not here in the street."

I sigh impatiently. "Where then?"

"Let's go to the diner. I'm starving."

"You're always starving."

"I'm a growing boy." He flashes those perfectly straight teeth again.

I really don't want to be arguing with him in the middle of the street, so with a frustrated exhale, I wrench open the door and climb inside.

Hmm what's he going to talk about? Maybe the best way to vote? So many fingers to choose from...