It's Complicated

Chapter 12

At ten the next morning, Susan and I were together with George. By that time Mario would have normally texted me at least once, but he hadn't yet. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to or not, honestly. Everything was still so fresh in my mind. How was I even supposed to act? What should I back?

Still, every time my phone made a sound for the first hour, I checked it. Susan noticed it fifteen minutes into our outing. "Waiting to hear from Larry?" she asked. "Worried he's going to need help with those college applications he's supposed to be working on?"

"Oh, um, yes," I lied. "He was working hard on perfecting his essay this morning." . He had plans with Jimmy and Maria. They were meeting up around lunch to . . . whatever it was they had planned . I usually ignored what Larry did.

Susan nodded but looked skeptical. Not that I blamed her. She gave me an out and we both knew that, while I loved Larry, I going to help him with any of his college stuff like I did with his normal homework. Not that I was smarter than him – I just had a knack for researching stuff. Still, I was glad when she didn't push it.

Around lunch, Don joined us and then we broke off into couples: Susan and Don, me and George. George and I went to his house and hung out in his living room while his mom was working in her home office. She was one of those people that worked from home – and made good money at it, too – so that she'd be there when her kid got home. I admired her for that.

George put on a movie we hadn't seen yet, and we snuggled on the couch to watch it. After about an hour of the movie, my phone buzzed. I checked it. Mario. Are we cool?

I picked it up, about to respond, when George paused the movie. "Why are you texting?"

"Um."

He sighed. "You know I don't think it's right to text other people when you're with someone," he said in a calm, reasoning voice. Not upset. Not yet. "Who are you even texting?"

I glanced at the screen. "It's not important." I put my phone on the coffee table and went back to my spot on his shoulder.

He frowned. "I'm serious. Who was it?"

I chewed my lip a moment before responding. "Mario. We had a fight last night after the play. He was just checking to see if I'd forgiven him yet."

George frowned. "You didn't tell me you saw him."

"Well, I'm telling you now."

He stayed quiet, but I could tell he wasn't happy, even when he took my hand in his. "Have you?" he asked a couple of minutes later.

"I don't know," I replied honestly as I watched him slot our fingers together and then rub my hand between his before repeating the actions. "I guess we'll find out Monday when I see him again." I wasn't sure if I should, and I wasn't sure that I shouldn't. There weren't any rules. I knew this and yet I felt like I was learning this the hard way. That small yet huge fact only left me even more uncertain if I was doing the right thing, or what the right thing even was.

"What was the fight about?"

Shouldn't I feel like I could tell him anything by now? We'd been friends for years at this point, and had only recently, in the grand scheme of things, become something more. Just what we were was something I didn't know how to define. We were more than friends, but we hadn't crossed the border into the land of lovers yet. He wasn't even my boyfriend. Technically, we had been seeing each other for a bit, but we weren't dating.

The fact that I felt like I couldn't tell him about something only made me feel like I was sneaking around behind his back.

He sighed and leaned his head over on mine. I closed my eyes, more from being sleepy than because I was comfortable, and began to drift off. It seemed like no time passed when I became aware the TV was quiet and someone was running their fingers lightly through my hair and down my jaw. For a brief second, I thought I was back with Mario last night, but I quickly realized George was the one gently brushing his thumb across my cheek.