Two is Better Than One

Chapter 3: Last Names and Spilt Tea

When I get home, I'm so distracted that I fail to notice Ivy's shoes by the front door. She's been known to abuse the key I gave her to my place, but I can't complain when she cooks me a decent meal once in a while.

       I just about jump out of my skin when she speaks from the living. "So, what's the verdict? Hot?"

       I moan and collapse next to her on the couch. "Sooo hot."

      "I knew it!" She pumps her fist in the air. "Why the groan, though? That place finally has a perk."

      "I spent the day avoid him, because even in adulthood I am useless against Casper's charm."

      "Casper? Casper McLain!?" Not a hard guess. You don't find many Casper's around here.

      I nod solemnly and cover my ears when Ivy shrieks.

      "Oh my god!" she erupts. I consider offering her lip balm, because the ear-to-ear grin on her face is bound to crack her lips. "I was wrong. You are going to get that love story you always read about."

       I huff at her eagerness. All I did was tell her about my re-acquaintance with an old friend, and she's planning my wedding.

       "What's with that face?"

      "What face?" I play dumb.

      "You look like you're having shit cramps. Did something happen?" She's scoots to the edge of her seat, peering at me with utmost excitement.

       I hesitate to tell her. She's going to spin this into a fairy-tale. "I'm an idiot."

      "What did you do?" Her body twitches as if torn between excitement and apprehension.

       There's no use hiding anything from Ivy. She knows everything about me. So, I tell her about my agreement to catch up over the weekend. She would somehow find out, anyway. "Having supper with him and Lawson, no less, wasn't quite what I had in mind when I pictured meeting the new social worker."

       "Lawson? Lawson Novak?!"

       I'm not sure why she feels the need to confirm with last names, considering we don't know any other Casper's and Lawsons.

       "Yes, Lawson Novak. Looks like him and Casper are still besties."

       Her eyes grow wide and then her bottom lip is trembling with contained laughter. I narrow my eyes. Without speaking her thoughts, I know what she's thinking. She thinks I'm falling into the same predicament I faced at nine years old. She was the friend that third grade Casper requested to share his confession with me. She is well acquainted with my third-grade debacle, and she is finding it much more amusing than warranted. She's been wheezing for a minute now, only laughing harder every time she tries to speak. I smack her with my pillow.

       "This isn't funny." I complain, although a small chuckle escapes me. "I'm an adult now. Those crushes are long gone. And middle-school crushes shouldn't count. I was just a baby."

        For some reason she laughs even harder. She wipes the tears from the corners of her eyes, and I wonder if she got into my new bottle of tequila.

      "Oh, this is great." She grins. "You said you wanted more passion, the universe certainly delivered."

      I watch her blankly. "I am not even going to entertain that idea. I agreed to a platonic hangout with old friends. That's it."

      That sends her into another fit of laughter.

      "I'm being serious," I tell her. "Ignoring our barely existent history, I work with Casper. Starting anything romantic would be unprofessional."

      "Like they care," she refutes. "They've got mother, daughter and son in law working together."

      Well, she's got me there.

     "And if it really troubles your work etiquettes so much, there's always Lawson."

     "Oh, yeah. I'll have dinner at Casper's only to bang his best friend at the end of the night. I'm sure that'll go over well with him."

      "Who knows? Maybe he'd like to watch."

     My cheeks grow hot. Nope. Not going to let my mind explore that idea. "Don't you work in the morning? Maybe you should go to bed and leave me alone."

      "Nope. I took the day off."

      Of course, she did. Though I fail to get rid of her, I at least get her to drop the topic... Until my phone dings in the middle of our episode. I tense at the unknown number, suspicion confirmed as I open the text and find an address. A second message comes in.

      Unknown number: Are you still up for catching up Saturday? Stop by any time after lunch.

      The anxious breath that catches in my throat screws me over. Ivy doesn't miss it.

      "He texted!"

      She steals the phone from my grasp before I can blink. I have no time to protest, she types faster than I can move, and presses send.

      "Ivy!" I bark, clutching the phone to my chest before she can do anymore damage. I count myself lucky all she sent was a simple: yes.

      She juts her chin out with satisfaction. "No backing out of this. I know deep down you want to go. So, you're welcome... Plus, if it's just a platonic hangout, what's the big deal?"

      I crinkle my nose with displeasure.

      Pausing our show, she takes my hand and drags me towards my bedroom.

      "I'm gone for the next two days," she says. "So, we've got to pick an outfit tonight, and then I'll let you wallow in misery."

      "I don't need your help picking an outfit." My words are completely ignored. I stand helplessly as she goes through my closet.

      Her snort voices her disagreement.

     "He's seen me in my scrubs."

      "You look hot in scrubs."

      I crinkle my nose again. "I don't need to look hot for this."

      She merely rolls her eyes. "Just trust me for once." She fumbles around for a few minutes, before straightening with a victorious "Hurrah". She pulls out my favourite button-up dress, and I hate that I find myself incapable of objection. "See, you like it. It's casual, but also mature. Plus, it teases a little bit of cleavage and shows off your ass. All without looking like you're trying too hard." The corner of my lips tugs upwards. Martha would approve.

        I give her the win and walk her to my door. At least, it'll be once less thing to worry about.