One More Time (Bremmy 1)

Chapterish 80

MAY 21st

Go Zen is closed for the afternoon. We had classes all morning –extra classes even. Now Zoë and I are doing a deep clean. A cleanse, if you will. Redecorating. Burning sage. Keeping the vibe fresh. The little wind-chime next to the door sings. I look over and see Trevor holding up iced coffees.

"YAS!" Zoë praises him, taking her vanilla cold brew. "You're a savior."

"And for you, Emmy," he says, holding out the tallest of the iced coffees.

"Thanks, babe." I stress the last word.

"No prob, babe." He kisses my nose.

This is our thing. Well, another one of our things.

We really have a lot of things.

The last month with Trevor has been great. In fact, it's been more than great. He's the first person I text in the morning and usually the last person I talk to at night. He's always there, but also always not. It is the most serious non-committed relationship I've ever been in.

"Hey, if you stay you help," Zoë says, sipping through her straw.

"You heard her," I say, shrugging at Trevor. He gets up from the wooden bench and waves his arms.

"Ok. Give me a job to do."

"I was just about to disinfect all the extra mats. You want dibs?" Zoë asks.

"Would love them," Trevor laughs.

"You have to spray them in the back. That cleaner fluid reeks," I say, scrunching up my nose.

"Yes, queen." Trevor pretends to bow.

He picks up a stack of the old mats and carries them to the back, out of the main studio.

"You've trained him well," Zoë grins, biting her straw. "Brings coffee and he's helping."

"Yea, he's too sweet sometimes." I say, sipping my own cold brew. It's true.

"Sure know how to pick them." Zoë sets her cup down and goes back to wiping down the marble cabinets.

Do I know how to pick them, Zoë?

Didn't know how to pick at least one of them.

A buzz, a ding, and a weird noise I think is a calendar alert.

I pull my bag from my phone and cross my proverbial fingers. Messages from Trix blow up my phone. It's about the bonfire, I know it is. The 10-year fire.  #TENFIRE as it's trending. Man I hate Gen Y.

Come ON girl.

It's TEN YEARS!

Bring Trevor if U want!!

Emmeline Lou, I INSIST :)

Maybe it won't be so bad, I think. It's been weeks –months. Maybe we will be able to cross paths and it won't hurt. Maybe one day all of this will feel like a distant memory shared between two friends.

Maybe I'll believe myself if I keep saying it.

Doubtful.

I'm already halfway through my coffee when I make the decision I knew I ultimately would. I am going home. Maybe he won't even be there. Probably won't.

Trevor is back with the mats, standing them like dominos so they can air out. Zoë is out of earshot, somewhere hanging the bands we got for the new aerial yoga class.

"So, guess what babe?" I look over at Trevor.

"What babe?"                                                        

He's still standing the mats one by one. His back is to me, his shoulders look hella nice in his tight T-shirt.

"I'm thinking about going home for a week," I blurt out before changing my mind.

"Oh yea? Don't you... sort of hate home?" Trevor asks, looking over his shoulder at me now.

"Hate is a strong word," I say and move closer to him. "I'm more fond of other things, sure."

"But not un-fond of home?" He raises his eyebrow.

"Exactly. It's sort of a reunion thing for high school. Ten years." I shrug, frowning.

"Ten years?" He whistles through his lops. "I forgot you're basically an old lady."

"Am NOT! You are approximately seven months younger!" I smirk, nudging him in the ribs. His little tight lip smile is so darn cute.

"Yes, but one whole entire grade."

"A whole–entire–grade, oh my god," I stress each word, rolling my eyes. "I shouldn't even be talking to you. Imagine the embarrassment if we're seen."

"My embarrassment, you mean?" He asks, his eyebrows raised.

"Ha-ha," I fake laugh. "Anyway, as I was saying... It's for our ten years of freedom. There's this whole big bonfire thing. Trix is begging me to go."

"Sounds fun. Do you want any company?" Trevor asks. He's inviting himself to my hometown? To my home? My parents? My friends?

"We've only been casually hanging out for what? Two months-ish. Bit early to start inviting yourself home to my parents, don't you think?" I tease.

"Ish... And it was only an offer," he says, squeezing my waist.

"Trying to backpedal, huh?" I play with the straw between my teeth.

"Course not. But if you don't want the offer then..." Trevor trails off, looking up.

I push my face back from his so I can see him. Take him in. He's got a lot of freckles in this light. The idea is tempting. It would be nice to not be alone –to not show up alone. But something stops me from saying yes.  It feels like I need to do this solo. I need to go back solo.

Solo.

YOLO.

"Look at you, being sweet." I smile. "I think I'll survive."

"Fine, have it your way." Trevor reaches his arm across my chest and tucks it in the elastic (yes, I'm 95) waistband on my shitty cleaning-day shorts. "Just don't forget about me."

"Forget about you?" I say, smirking. "Please, it's Jersey."

"Exactly. It's Jersey," he says.

"Plus, it'll be kinda fun. Knowing I have you waiting for me when I get back."

I kiss him.