Friend is a Four Letter Word

Carter

CARTER

I go to work for a few hours but get next to nothing done. The office is deserted, I should be able to knock out everything on my desk quickly, but instead, I keep my cell phone on the edge of my desk and glance at it every few minutes, just to see if Shayna text me. When I scroll through the last texts we exchanged, they’re from weeks ago when she was still in Georgia and for a second, I wish we could go back to that. Where we didn’t have to own up to anything we didn’t want to because our talks were buffered by a glass screen and thousands of miles.

But if she never showed up, I wouldn’t have experienced what it felt like to see her first thing in the morning. When her eyes are barely open and her hair is a tangled mess. How she looks the most beautiful when there’s morning light streaming through the blinds.

I stare at numbers until they blur together. I can’t even manage the simple task of organizing the stack of P&L reports so I decide to call it a day.

I head to the beach because surfing always clears my head, but for the first time ever, even that can’t do the job. I fall more times than when I was just learning. The only thing left I can try was to go to a meeting. Two in one day? What the hell does that say about me?

I don’t want a drink. I want my—Shayna.

I’m sitting in my Jeep debating my next move when my cell phone rings. It’s Jane. Her timing is impeccable. I’m half tempted to look over my shoulder, wondering if she’s now following me.

“Hey Jane,” I say, answering on the third ring. It’s not often that I’ve broken down and called Jane in need of guidance, or near a breakdown, but it’s even rarer that she calls me—at least lately. When I was brand new in the program, she called me almost daily to make sure I didn’t need to be talked off of any proverbial ledges.

“Hey, handsome,” she says. “Listen, I know I already saw you today, but I wanted to check in and see if you’d like to hit an evening meeting with me tonight?”

I debate whether to take Jane up on the offer for a quick moment while I rub my eyes. It’s been a long ass day already and all I really want is a damn do-over. I want to go back to bed this morning with that gorgeous girl wrapped around me.

“I don’t know, Jane, I’m pretty beat,” I say. It’s not a lie. I’ve made love, fought, worked, surfed.

“Of course,” she says. “You seemed like you had a full mind this morning, Carter. Sometimes, when there’s that much noise you need a meeting to help calm some of it, you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

“Okay then. Be well, Carter. And call anytime.”

“Thanks for checking in, Jane,” I say.

“Course, handsome,” she says. She’s old enough to be my mother and her pet name should creep me out, but instead, it’s endearing as hell.

When I get back to the apartment, there’s a note taped to my front door. It’s Quinn’s messy handwriting. I expect it to say that Shayna has taken off, and thanks for screwing things up with her friend before she even got the chance to spend any time with her. Instead, it’s an invite over to her apartment for dinner. I shower quickly, tug on a plain t-shirt, jeans and Chucks and grab a sweater on my way out the door without pausing to think twice about walking three doors down to Quinn’s place. Maybe I should. Maybe it should make me more nervous to have to see Shayna for the first time since our argument this morning—especially in front of other people. But it doesn’t. Because I’m too fixated on just seeing her at all.

When I was younger, I was better at staying angry. About keeping solid walls built around me that if you came bursting through, I’d take you down. I’ve only had one semi-serious relationship back when I was in college and that went to hell when she told me she loved me. I didn’t want that with anyone.