Maybe Now (Maybe Someday part two) Page 4

  “Spencer,” the tall brunette one says. He’s the drummer. I know this because I’ve seen them play. I’ve just never actually been introduced to them.

  “Price,” the other one says, shaking my hand. He plays lead guitar and sings backup vocals, and while the star of the band is definitely Brennan, I think Price gives him a run for his money. He’s got the rockstar swagger down, even though their music isn’t typically rock. It’s got a more pop/alternative vibe. But he could probably pull off any sound because he’s so charismatic on stage. Brennan sometimes takes a step back and lets him shine.

  “I’m Sydney,” I say, with a lot of forced confidence. “It’s so good to finally meet you guys. I’m a huge fan of the band.” I wave my arm across them and over to Brennan. “It’s so impressive how fast you guys get stuff recorded.”

  Price laughs and says, “Sydney, we’re all huge fans of yours. Ridge went through a pretty long dry spell until you came along.”

  My eyes widen and I look over at Ridge, who is looking at Brennan, who is signing everything everyone is saying. Ridge immediately looks back at me, and then at Price.

  “Dry spell?” Ridge says out loud.

  “Lyrical dry spell,” Price says, clarifying what he meant. “I meant lyrical.” Now Price looks embarrassed.

  God, this is so awkward.

  “I’m hungry,” Brennan says, slapping his hands on the bar on either side of him. “Has anyone eaten?”

  “Chinese sounds good,” I suggest.

  Brennan picks up his phone and looks at it. “A girl who knows what she wants. I like it.” He pulls the phone to his ear. “Chinese it is. I’ll just order a shit-ton of everything.”

  I try not to stare at him too hard. I just can’t get over how much he looks like Ridge physically, but with a completely different personality. Ridge is responsible and mature, and Brennan seems like he doesn’t give a shit. About anything. It’s like he doesn’t have a single care, yet his older brother takes on the burden of caring about every single thing.

  “So, Bridgette and I are fighting, if you didn’t notice,” Warren says, taking a seat on the couch and scrolling through his texts. He looks up at me. “She says I flirt with other people too much.”

  I laugh. “You do.”

  Warren rolls his eyes and mutters, “Traitor. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “There are no sides when it’s a discussion of facts,” I say. “You flirt with me. You flirt with Bridgette. You flirt with the old lady who lives in my apartment building. Hell, you even flirt with her dog. You’re a flirt, Warren.”

  “He flirts with me,” Spencer says.

  Warren is still scrolling through his texts when he reads something that makes him pause. He laughs a little and then looks over at Ridge and Brennan. “Maggie went skydiving today.”

  My breath catches at the mention of her name. Naturally, I look over at Ridge, who is leaning against the bar next to Brennan. Brennan covers his phone with his hand and says, “Good for her.”

  Ridge just nods, expressionless, and says, “I know. She told me earlier.” He glances at me for a brief second and then looks down at his phone.

  My mouth feels dry. I press my lips together. There was a moment earlier, when I came out of the bathroom and saw Ridge holding his phone with a torn expression. I had no idea what had caused him to react like he was. I assumed it was work.

  But…it wasn’t work. It was Maggie. He was worried about Maggie.

  I don’t like how I’m feeling right now. I pull my phone out of my pocket and try to busy myself, but I’m standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. Brennan ends his call to the Chinese place, and Warren and Ridge are both looking at their phones. I suddenly feel out of place. Like I don’t belong in this living room with these people in this apartment. Brennan signs something to Ridge without speaking, and then they start a silent conversation with Warren that’s too fast for me to keep up with, which makes me think they don’t want me to know what they’re saying. I try to ignore them, but I can’t help but look when Warren says, “You worry too much, man.”

  “Typical Ridge,” Brennan says. As soon as he says that, Brennan looks at me and then at Ridge and then stiffens a little. “Sorry. Is that weird? We shouldn’t talk about Maggie. That’s weird.” He looks over at Warren, who brought up the entire conversation. “Shut the fuck up, Warren.”

  Warren brushes off Brennan’s comment with a flippant wave in my direction. “Sydney’s cool. She’s not a PSYCHOTIC JEALOUS GIRLFRIEND LIKE SOME PEOPLE!” he yells toward his bedroom.

  Two seconds later, Bridgette swings open the door and says, “I’m not your girlfriend. I broke up with you.”

  Warren looks offended. And confused. He holds up his hands. “When?”

  “Right now,” Bridgette says. “I’m breaking up with you right now, asshole.” She slams the door, and sadly, no one really pays it much attention. Some things haven’t changed a bit around here. Warren doesn’t even get up from the couch to chase after her.

  I feel my phone vibrate, so I look at the text.

  Ridge: Hi.

  I glance over at him, and he’s sitting on the bar now, next to Brennan. They’re both swinging their legs, seated the same way, and Ridge looks completely adorable as he smiles at me. The looks he gives me are intoxicating. He motions for me to come stand with him, so I walk over to him. He spreads his legs wider, turning me until my back is against his chest. He kisses me on the side of my head and wraps his arms around my shoulders.

  “Hey, Sydney,” Brennan says. “Did Ridge play you the song Price wrote?”

  I glance at Price and then back at Brennan. “No, which one is it?”

  Brennan signs for Ridge to play me the song, so Ridge holds his phone in front of me and searches his files.

  “Even If Your Back Was Turned,” Price says from the couch.

  “We just recorded it last week,” Brennan says. “I like it. I think it’ll do well. Price wrote it for his mommy.”

  Price throws a pillow in Brennan’s direction. “Fuck you,” he says. He looks at me and shrugs. “I am a momma’s boy.”

  I laugh, because he doesn’t look like your typical momma’s boy.

  Ridge finds the song and presses play. He sets the phone on his thigh and then wraps his arms around me again as I listen. Almost as soon as it starts to play, the text notification goes off on Ridge’s phone. I look down at it.

  Maggie: Guess what? I’m finally riding in a TESLA!!!

  Ridge must see the text as soon as I hear it and read it, because his legs stop swinging and he stiffens. We’re both looking at the phone, and I know he’s waiting on my reaction, but I don’t know how I should react. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be feeling right now. It’s just all too weird. I reach over and swipe up on her text so it’ll disappear. Then I pause the song and say to Price, “I’ll listen to it later. It’s too loud in here.”

  Ridge wraps his arm tighter around my waist as he picks up his phone and begins texting with one hand. I don’t know if he’s responding to her or not, but I guess it’s not my business. Is it? I don’t even know if I should be mad. I don’t think I’m mad. Confused is a better word for it. Or maybe uncomfortable is the best way to describe what I’m feeling.

  Ridge pulls on my hand so I’ll turn and look at him. I’m still standing between his legs, but this time I’m facing him, looking at him, trying not to let him read my thoughts. He puts his phone in my hand, and when I look at it to read whatever he’s written in his note app, he lowers his forehead to mine.

  She’s my friend, Sydney. We text sometimes.

  As I’m reading the note on his phone, his hands are sliding softly down my arms in a comforting gesture. It’s amazing how much more he can communicate non-verbally as a result of being so stifled by his verbal communication. By pressing his forehead to mine as I read what he typed, it’s as if he’s silently saying, “We’re a team, Sydney. You and me.”

  And t
he way he’s sliding his hands down my arms is equivalent to a thousand verbal reassurances.

  I expected that he still talks to Maggie. What I didn’t expect was for it to bother me like it is. But it’s not because I think Ridge and Maggie are in the wrong. It’s because I feel like I’ll always be the girl who came between them, no matter how friendly they remain. I can be friendly with every single friend Ridge ever has, but I’m not sure I could ever be friends with Maggie, so the fact that he is friends with her makes me feel like a third-wheel to that friendship.

  It’s a strange feeling. And one I don’t like, so I can’t help but have a noticeable reaction. Especially to Ridge. He notices every non-verbal reaction I have because that’s the focus of his communication.

  I hand Ridge’s phone back to him and force a smile, but I know my feelings are probably written all over my face. He pulls me in for a reassuring hug and then kisses the side of my head. I press my face against his neck and sigh.

  “God, you two are so cute together,” Brennan says. “It makes me want a girlfriend. For like a whole week, maybe.”

  His comment makes me laugh. I pull away from Ridge and turn around, leaning my back into him again.

  “You’re about to have one for more than a week,” Spencer says. “Sadie’s opening for us for the next two months.”

  Brennan groans. “Don’t remind me.”

  I welcome the distraction. “Who is Sadie?”

  Brennan looks at me pointedly and says. “Sadie is Satan.”

  “Her name is Sadie Brennan,” Warren says, standing up. “Not to be confused with Brennan Lawson. Coincidence that they share part of a name, and also a coincidence that Brennan thought she was a groupie the first time he met her.”

  Brennan grabs a roll of paper towels off the bar and throws them at Warren. “It was an honest mistake.”

  “I think this is a story I need to hear,” I say.

  “No,” Brennan says firmly.

  At the same time Brennan says no, Warren pipes up and says, “I’ll tell it.” He flips one of the table chairs around backward and sits down, facing us. “Brennan has a routine,” Warren says and signs. “Sounds of Cedar isn’t a widely known band, but locally, you know they have a decent following. Quite a few fangirls who come to the meet-and-greets after the shows.”

  Warren is signing everything for Ridge, so it makes me laugh when Brennan’s head falls back and he groans, then signs, “Shut up,” at the same time he says it. It’ll never get old that they sign everything for Ridge. It’s like it’s second nature and they don’t even realize they’re doing it. That’s my goal. I want to learn to communicate that way to the point where Ridge and I have absolutely no barriers.

  “Sometimes after the shows, if Brennan thinks a girl is cute, he’ll slip her a note with his hotel information, asking if she wants to chat in private. Five times out of ten, they show up an hour later at his hotel room door.”

  “Ten times out of ten,” Brennan corrects.

  God, he and Ridge are so different.

  Warren rolls his eyes and continues. “Sadie happened to be one of the girls he slipped a note to. But what he didn’t know was that she wasn’t at his meet and greet as a fan. She was there looking to talk with him about a gig. And what she didn’t know is that Brennan slips someone his number after every show with the intention of hooking up. She thought he slipped her a note because he wanted to chat with her about opening for the band on our upcoming tour. So, when she showed up at his hotel room that night, let’s just say there was a lot of confusion.”

  I look at Brennan, and he’s running his hand down his face like he’s embarrassed. “Dude, I hate this story.”

  He might hate it, but I’m enjoying the hell out of it. “What happened?”

  Brennan groans. “Can’t we just end the story here?”

  “No,” Warren says. “This is where it gets good.”

  Brennan looks so embarrassed, but he continues the story himself. “Let’s just say it took her a few seconds to realize what I assumed she was there for, and it took me more than a few seconds to realize she wasn’t there because she wanted me to take off her shirt.”

  “Oh, no. That poor girl.”

  Brennan makes a face. “Poor girl my ass. I told you she’s Satan. She makes Bridgette look like an angel.”

  “I heard that,” Bridgette yells from her room.

  Brennan shrugs. “It’s true.”

  “She’s not that bad,” Price says to Brennan. “She just hates you.”

  “But…she’s opening for you guys on the next tour? She must not hate you too much,” I say.

  Brennan shakes his head. “No, she definitely hates me. But she also has mad talent. That’s the only reason why she got the gig.”

  “Do you have any of her songs?” I ask. “I want to hear one.”

  Brennan scoots closer to us and hands me his phone after pulling up a YouTube video. Ridge scoots me over and hops off the bar to set out plates for the Chinese food. I can’t help but stare at the video on Brennan’s phone in complete awe. The girl is really pretty. And she’s super talented. I watch the first video, and then another, and then a third before I realize Brennan hasn’t moved a muscle. He can pretend he isn’t into her all he wants, but he holds his breath through every video, never taking his eyes off the screen.

  We’re watching the fourth video when the food arrives. We all make our plates and sit around the table. It’s the first meal Ridge and I have eaten together as a couple. He’s sitting right next to me with his left hand on my thigh. We’ve eaten a lot of meals at this table together while forcing ourselves to sit as far apart from each other as we possibly could. It feels good to finally be able to touch him—sit close to him—and not fight everything inside me that was growing.

  I like this.

  The door to the bathroom between Warren and Bridgette’s old bedroom swings open. Bridgette is standing in a towel, sopping wet from the shower. Her eyes scan the table until she finds Warren, and then she tosses something at him, hitting him in the chest. Whatever it is falls onto his plate. Then the door slams.

  Everyone looks at Warren. He picks up the block of whatever she just threw at him and stares at it for a second. Then he sniffs it. His head slowly turns toward Ridge.

  “Cheese? You put cheese in my shower?”

  I look at Ridge, and he’s attempting to force back a smile.

  Warren sniffs the cheese again and then takes a small bite of it. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying not to gag. Does he not realize that Bridgette had to rub that block of cheese on some part of her body before realizing it wasn’t soap?

  Warren sets the cheese on his plate like he just received a free course with his meal.

  As disgusting as some of them are, I’ve missed their pranks so much. I squeeze Ridge’s leg to let him know that was a clever one.

  When we finish eating, I text Ridge and tell him I should go. I have an early day tomorrow, and it’ll be after ten by the time I get home. I tell all the guys goodbye, and Ridge walks me down. When we reach my car, he opens my door but doesn’t kiss me goodbye. He waits for me to sit, and then he walks around to the passenger side and takes a seat.

  He grabs my phone that I just placed in the console and hands it to me.

  Ridge: You okay?

  I nod, but he doesn’t look convinced. I don’t know how to say, “Stop having friends!” without feeling a little like Bridgette.

  Ridge: Does it bother you?

  He doesn’t even have to specify what he’s talking about. We both know. And I don’t know how to answer him. I don’t want to be that jealous girlfriend who takes issue with every single thing, but how can I not be jealous when there’s still a part of me that’s envious of Maggie?

  Ridge: Please be honest, Syd. I want to know what you’re thinking.

  I sigh, thankful he cares enough to talk about it but also wishing we could brush it under the rug at the same time.

  Sydney: It’s
uncomfortable. It bothered me that you seemed so worried about her. But it would also bother me if you didn’t care. So, it’s just…weird. It’s going to take time to get used to, I guess.

  Ridge: I do worry about her. And I care about her. But I am not in love with her, Sydney. I’m in love with you.

  When I finish reading his text, he leans across the seat and takes my face in his hands. “I love you.”

  The sincerity in his expression makes me smile. “I know you do. I love you, too.”

  He stares at me for a moment, searching for any remaining doubt in my expression. Then he kisses me goodnight. When he gets out of the car, he takes the stairs two at a time. He reaches the top and texts me again.

  Ridge: Let me know when you make it home safe. And thank you.

  Ridge: For being you.

  When I look up, he smiles and then disappears inside his apartment. I watch his door for a moment and then drop my phone in my purse, just as someone knocks on my window. I jump and press my hand to my chest. When I look out my window, I roll my eyes.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Hunter is standing at my driver’s side window, looking at me expectantly. I forgot he even frequented this apartment complex. I guess that means he’s still with Tori. I stare at him for a moment and feel absolutely nothing. Not even anger.

  I put my car in reverse and back up, pulling away from the complex without looking back. The only way to look now is forward.

  •••

  Ridge: You asleep?

  I look at the time stamp on his text. He just sent the message two minutes ago. I pull the towel off my head and run my fingers through my hair before I text him back.