But then I realize he didn’t do it for himself.

He turned it on for me.


Ridge

After stopping at a drive-thru for food, we pull up to the apartment complex. I put the car in park.


Me: Take the food up and unlock the door while I wake them up.

She picks up our two drinks and the bag of food. She heads up to the apartment, and I walk to the back door and open it. I shake Warren awake and help him out of the car. Then I wake Maggie up and help her out. She’s still too out of it to walk, so I pick her up and shut the door behind me. I make sure Warren walks ahead of me up the stairs, because I’m not positive he won’t fall down them.

When we make it inside, Warren stumbles to his bedroom, and I walk Maggie into my room. I lay her on the bed and take off her shoes, then her clothes. I pull the covers over her, then head back into the dining room, where Sydney has laid out our food. It’s almost midnight, and we haven’t eaten since lunch. I take a seat in front of her.

Me: So now that you know one of my deep, dark secrets, I want to know one of yours.

We both have our phones out on the table while we eat. She smiles and begins to text me back.

Sydney: You have more than one deep, dark secret?

Me: We’re talking about you right now. If we’re going to be working together, I need to know what I’m getting myself into. Tell me about your family. Any raging alcoholics?

Sydney: No, just raging assholes. My father is a lawyer, and he hates that I’m not going to law school. My mother stays home. She’s never worked a day in her life. She’s a great mom, but she’s also one of those perfect moms, you know? Think Leave It to Beaver meets Stepford Wives.

Me: Siblings?

Sydney: Nope. Only child.

Me: I wouldn’t have pegged you as an only child. Nor would I have guessed you were a lawyer’s daughter.

Sydney: Why? Because I’m not pretentious and spoiled?

I smile at her and nod.

Sydney: Well, thanks. I try.

Me: I don’t mean for this to come off as insensitive, but if your father is a lawyer and you still have a relationship with your parents, why did you not call them last week? When you had nowhere to go?

Sydney: The primary thing my mother instilled in me was the fact that she didn’t want me to be her. She had no education and has always been completely dependent on my father. She raised me to be very independent and financially responsible, so I’ve always taken pride in not asking for their help. It’s hard sometimes, especially when I really need their help, but I always get by. I also don’t ask for their help because my father would point out in a not-so-nice way that if I were in law school, he’d be paying for it.

Me: Wait. You’re paying for school on your own? But if you changed your major to prelaw, your father would pay for it?

She nods.

Me: That’s not really fair.

Sydney: Like I said, my father is an asshole. But I don’t go around blaming my parents for everything. I have a lot to be thankful for. I’ve grown up in a relatively normal household, both of my parents are alive and well, and they support me to an extent. They’re better than most, just worse than some. I hate it when people spend their entire lives blaming their parents for every bad thing that happens to them.

Me: Yeah. I completely agree, which is why I was emancipated at sixteen. Decided to take my life into my own hands.

Sydney: Really? What about Brennan?

Me: I took him with me. The courts thought he stayed with my parents, but he moved in with me. Well, with Warren. We’ve been friends since we were fourteen. Both of his parents are deaf, which is how he knows ASL. Once I became emancipated, they allowed me and Brennan to stay with them. My parents still had guardianship over Brennan, but as far as they were concerned, I did them a huge favor by taking him off their hands.

Sydney: Well, that was incredibly considerate of Warren’s parents.

Me: Yes, they’re great people. Not sure why Warren turned out the way he did, though.

She laughs.

Sydney: Did they continue to raise Brennan after you left for college?

Me: No, we actually only stayed with them for seven months. When I turned seventeen, I moved us into an apartment. I dropped out of school and got a GED so I could start college sooner.

Sydney: Wow. So you raised your brother?

Me: Hardly. Brennan lived with me, but he was never the type who could be raised. He was fourteen when we got our own place. I was only seventeen. As much as I’d like to say I was the responsible, mature adult, I was quite the opposite. Our apartment became the hangout for everyone who knew us, and Brennan partied just as hard as I did.

Sydney: That shocks me. You seem so responsible.

Me: I wasn’t as wild as I probably could have been, being on my own at that young an age. Luckily, all our money went to bills and rent, so I never got into any bad habits. We just liked to have fun. Our band was formed when Brennan was sixteen and I was nineteen, so that took up a lot of our time. That’s also the year I started dating Maggie, and I calmed down a lot after that.

Sydney: You’ve been with Maggie since you were nineteen?

I nod but don’t text her back. My food has hardly been touched from all the texting, so I pick up my burger. She does the same, and we eat until both of us are finished. We stand up and clear off the table. Then she gives me a wave and heads off to her room. I sit on the couch and turn on the TV. After about fifteen minutes of channel surfing, I finally stop on a movie channel. The captioning has been turned off on the TV, but I don’t bother turning it back on. I’m too tired to read and follow along with the movie, anyway.

The door to Sydney’s bedroom opens, and she walks out, looking slightly startled when she sees I’m still awake. She’s in one of her baggy shirts again, and her hair is wet. She walks back to her room, then comes out with her phone and sits on the couch with me.

Sydney: I’m not tired. What are you watching?

Me: I don’t know, but it just started.

She pulls her feet up and rests her head on the arm of the couch. Her eyes are on the TV, but my eyes are on her. I have to admit, the Sydney who went out tonight is a completely different Sydney from the one lying here. Her makeup is gone, her hair is no longer perfect, her clothes even have holes in them, and I can’t help but laugh just looking at her. If I were Hunter, I’d be punching myself in the face right now.

She’s beginning to lean forward for her phone when she cuts her eyes in my direction. I want to look back at the TV and pretend she didn’t just catch me staring at her, but that would make this even more awkward. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to care that I was looking at her, because she gives her attention to her phone.

Sydney: How are you watching this without captions?

Me: Too tired to read along right now. Sometimes I just like to watch movies without captions and try to guess what they’re saying.

Sydney: I want to try it. Put it on mute, and we’ll deaf-watch it together.

I laugh. Deaf-watch? That’s a new one. I point the remote to the TV and press the mute button. She turns her attention back to the TV, but once again, I fail to look away from her.

I don’t understand my sudden obsession with staring at her, but I can’t seem to stop. She’s several feet away. We aren’t touching. We aren’t speaking. She isn’t even looking at me. Yet the simple fact that I’m staring at her makes me feel incredibly guilty, as if I’m doing something wrong. Staring is harmless, so why do I feel so guilty?

I attempt to talk myself out of the feelings of guilt, but deep down, I know exactly what’s happening.

I don’t feel guilty simply because I’m staring at her. I feel guilty for how it’s making me feel.

* * *

This makes twice in a row I’ve been woken up like this. I push away the hand that’s slapping me and open my eyes. Warren is standing over me. He slaps a piece of paper on my chest, then whacks his hand against the side of my head. He walks to the front door and grabs his keys, then leaves for work.

Why is he going to work this early?

I pick up my phone, and it says 6:00 A.M. I guess he’s not leaving early.

I sit up on the couch and see Sydney still curled up at the other end, sound asleep. I pull the paper from Warren off my chest and look down at it.

How about you go to your room and sleep in the bed with your girlfriend!

I wad up the note and stand, then take it to the trash can and bury it. I go back to the couch, put my hand on Sydney’s shoulder, and shake her awake. She rolls onto her back and rubs her eyes, then looks up at me.

She smiles when she sees me. That’s it. All she did just now was smile, but all of a sudden, my chest is on fire, and it feels as if a wave of heat just rolled down the entire length of my body. I recognize this feeling, and it’s not good. It’s not good at all. I haven’t felt this way since I was nineteen.

Since I first began developing feelings for Maggie.

I point to Sydney’s room to let her know she should go to bed, then quickly turn around and head into my bedroom. I pull off my jeans and T-shirt and softly slide into bed next to Maggie. I wrap my arms around her, pull her against my chest, and spend the next half hour falling asleep to a broken record of reminders.

You’re in love with Maggie.

Maggie’s perfect for you.

You’re perfect for her.