Quotes
“The decision will still be there in the morning, won’t it?” She hands me my purse, pretty much shoves it into my stomach.
Before I know it, we’re in the back of a Lyft.
I look at my phone. “I wish he was on Facebook. I just want to know how he’s doing. Or would that be torture?”
“Torture,” she says. “Do I need to take your phone away for the night?”
“Maybe.” I sigh and lean back.
“I want you to stay, Lizzie, but only if it’s the right thing for you to do. Not as a tequila decision.”
“Are tequila decisions so bad?”
“Are you honestly asking me that? You remember that guy you almost screwed last summer? The juggler in Clinton Park?”
I cringe.
“Do you remember the night of hate and gyros? When we got into that fight?”
“Yes,” I say sullenly.
She hugs me close. “No tequila decisions,” she whispers.
I don’t know how I make it up the stairs to our place. I wander into my half-packed-up bedroom and collapse. I sleep long and hard, sleeping the sleep of the drunk until well into midmorning.
“Thank you.” I’m leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen/living room. “For stopping me.”
Mia’s on the couch looking half dead. “You’re welcome.”
I collapse next to her. “It would’ve been cruel to call him and patch things up. Because today I’d have to break up with him all over again.”
She says nothing.
“I have issues with guys controlling me and he wants to manage everything around him. It can never work.”
I can tell by her expression she was half hoping I’d still change my mind and make a relationship-repairing call. That I’d take the space and stay in the city.
It’s so tempting. Too tempting.
That’s when I decide it. “I need to rip the bandage off,” I say.
“Meaning what?”
“Leave today. I’m pretty much all packed. You have work and rehearsals all this week—you won’t even be here.”
“To stop you from giving him another ch
Before I know it, we’re in the back of a Lyft.
I look at my phone. “I wish he was on Facebook. I just want to know how he’s doing. Or would that be torture?”
“Torture,” she says. “Do I need to take your phone away for the night?”
“Maybe.” I sigh and lean back.
“I want you to stay, Lizzie, but only if it’s the right thing for you to do. Not as a tequila decision.”
“Are tequila decisions so bad?”
“Are you honestly asking me that? You remember that guy you almost screwed last summer? The juggler in Clinton Park?”
I cringe.
“Do you remember the night of hate and gyros? When we got into that fight?”
“Yes,” I say sullenly.
She hugs me close. “No tequila decisions,” she whispers.
I don’t know how I make it up the stairs to our place. I wander into my half-packed-up bedroom and collapse. I sleep long and hard, sleeping the sleep of the drunk until well into midmorning.
“Thank you.” I’m leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen/living room. “For stopping me.”
Mia’s on the couch looking half dead. “You’re welcome.”
I collapse next to her. “It would’ve been cruel to call him and patch things up. Because today I’d have to break up with him all over again.”
She says nothing.
“I have issues with guys controlling me and he wants to manage everything around him. It can never work.”
I can tell by her expression she was half hoping I’d still change my mind and make a relationship-repairing call. That I’d take the space and stay in the city.
It’s so tempting. Too tempting.
That’s when I decide it. “I need to rip the bandage off,” I say.
“Meaning what?”
“Leave today. I’m pretty much all packed. You have work and rehearsals all this week—you won’t even be here.”
“To stop you from giving him another ch
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