Drumbeats into My Heart

33. Seth Senses Something Off

Something is definitely off with Jordi, but I'm not sure what or why. I'm going out of my way to be nice to Winnie. It's her best friend, so I have to make a good impression. I'd really prefer to be alone with Jordi, but I want to prove that I can talk to her friends. That I'm not a total loser. My chances are better if her friends approve of me, right?

"You sure I can't drop you guys off at home?" Winnie looks dubiously from Jordi to me.

"No, it's fine. Our bikes wouldn't fit in your car anyway," Jordi assures.

"Oh, I get it." Winnie gives her a knowing look. "You kids are due for some alone time."

"No, it's not—" Jordi protests a little too vehemently.

Why, though? I think we're due for some alone time. Why doesn't she?

Winnie holds up a hand. "Nope. Not having it. I'm done being the third wheel for today. See ya later!" She waves and zooms off, possibly cackling in the distance.

"She's funny," I remark, watching the car turn a corner. "I can see why you two are friends."

"I can give you her phone number, if you like," Jordi says, face expressionless.

My brows knit at the thought. "Her number?" Why would I want that? Does she expect me to coordinate more activities with her so the three of us can hang out more? "Uh, okay."

Her bottom lip twitches into a pout so brief, I'm sure I must have imagined it. She begins reciting the number, so I fumble my phone out of my pocket and punch them in. When she's done, her blue eyes hold an indefinable sadness.

What's going on here?

"I guess I'll see you around," she says as she hops onto her bike, tucking her long skirt out of the way like she always does.

"Wait, do you want to go somewhere and talk?" I don't want to see her go already.

She pauses, glances at me, then down at her handlebars. "I don't think so."

My stomach drops. Something is definitely wrong. I must have done something to upset her, but I can't figure out what that might be. She's always been willing to hang out with me before. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Bye Seth," she says before pedaling away.

I stare after her, wanting to throw myself in front of her bike. I thought today had gone so well. What happened?

I consider going after her, chasing her down on my bike. But now I'm second guessing my every move. What if I upset her even more? She might just break up with me before we've even gone on our first date.

Although, come to think of it, why did that "bye Seth" sound so final? Did she just break up with me?

Wait, can that even happen? Were we even together in the first place?

The questions whirl through my mind like an evil tornado. I'm not sure how long I stand there mulling through all this, but by the time I look up again, Jordi is long gone.

I sigh at my own paralysis. Overthinking at its finest.

Might as well go home.

With a sense of defeat, I climb onto my bike and pedal away.

Mom is peeling carrots when I get home. "How'd the volunteering go?" she asks.

"Fine." I'm in no mood for a conversation with her and immediately head to my room.

I throw myself onto the bed and stare at my phone. The New Contact screen is still displayed there with Winnie's phone number on it. Maybe I should have asked why Jordi gave it to me. While I'm at it, I'd like to ask why she was acting so strangely during most of the mall visit.

Especially that ice cream debacle. What was up with that? She wouldn't even look at the menu. Is she really that rigid about her ice cream choices, or is there a bigger issue she's not letting on? Maybe I should talk to her. She'd brushed me off earlier, but maybe she'll talk to me if I call.

I scroll to her contact entry and stare at the phone number. My palms begin to sweat. I wipe them on my pants and raise a finger over the call button. Just one tap, and I could be talking to her, sorting this whole mess out.

Just one tap.

What would I say?

My hand drops to my side as I begin running conversations through my head. Hi Jordi, I was wondering if you were feeling okay? Wait, that makes her sound sick. I don't think she's sick. Listen, Jordi, about that ice cream... No, that makes it seem like I regularly make a big deal out of little things. Hey Jordi, you were acting kind of weird today...

I shake my head. No girl wants to be called weird.

I drop my phone to the bed and throw an arm over my eyes.

"Seth, you don't seem fine," Mom says from the doorway.

I sigh and sit up. "There's nothing wrong with me." If only that was true.

"Maybe you should stop this farmer's market nonsense. You've been a little off ever since you started that."

Nonsense? She wouldn't call it that if it had been her idea.

"Off how?" I demand.

"Oh, you know," she waves her hand vaguely in the air. "You're gone all the time now, and you give one-word answers."

Frankly, I'm not gone enough. "You want me to quit my job at the tutoring center?"

"Don't be silly. That job actually pays. Quit the free slave labor. They're obviously working you too hard. Probably making you lift all those produce boxes for them. I don't want you doing that anymore."

A tiredness seeps into my bones. Arguing with her is exhausting in a way that hard labor could never induce. I exhale with defeat. "Fine. Whatever. I'll quit."

Satisfied that I'm finally agreeing with her, Mom nods and heads back to the kitchen.

I flop back onto the bed.

I'm spineless. Gutless. That's what my problem is. I let my mom run my life and I get anxiety just thinking about calling a girl on the phone. A girl I like. A girl I used to think liked me too. Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe I've been imagining everything, just like the imaginary conversations in my mind.

Is this normal?

I stare at Jordi's number on my phone's screen again, trying to muster up the courage.

Trying.

Nope.

It's just not there.

I can feel my phone judging me.

In a fit of annoyance, I power the thing off and stuff it under my pillow so I don't have to look at it.

There. That's better. Now I can go back to feeling sorry for myself.

Ugh, the things we put ourselves through with overthinking. None of this happens with good old fashioned voting.