“I really wish I could go.”
It’s the eleventy-first time Jamie has made this declaration. I make a conciliatory sound and continue packing. Where did I put my gloves?
“I mean, I wouldn’t do the biking regardless, but it would be so fun if I could come down.”
“Anyone you could ask?” I know she has tried everyone to cover her shift, having witnessed her many phone, text, and voicemail rejections yesterday, but she’ll enjoy telling me again.
“No one. It’s so last minute.”
“Yeah.” It’s Sunday, and we’re supposed to be leaving here in ten minutes. Yesterday morning as I was leaving for work, she returned from a five-minute walk all hot and bothered, determined to find a way to Moab. She even hinted at getting a ride down with me and Alec, but there won’t be room in the car with our bikes taking up the back seat and trunk. Not ideal, but neither of us has an SUV or a rack.
Speaking of which—Alec, bless his heart, is outside in the heat squeezing both our bikes in while I gather up the last of my things.
I’ve mostly tuned out Jamie’s monologue exploring road trips as an ideal opportunity to strengthen relationships when I finally locate my gloves stuck between the wall and the edge of my bed.
“Yes!” I say as I zip them into the front pocket of Trusty, being extra careful where another tiny hole has opened up the seam. It might be time to invest in a new pack, but I hate to retire the last present Benson ever gave me. Maybe I can get Mom to show me how to stitch it back up next time I’m home.
“—because I really feel like there might be something there, you know?”
I tune back into Jamie, scolding myself for drifting. It’s hard to stay mentally present when a roommate is rambling.
“This would have been a great way to see where it’s going,” she says. “Especially after he rescued me last week at the activity. What do you think? Is missing the trip going to hurt my chances with him? Do you think he’s interested?”
Rescued? I sift through impressions as Jamie flops onto my bed, playing with the quilt ties. Personally, I wouldn’t call stabilizing pizza boxes a “rescue,” but if that’s how she wants to see it, I’m not going to argue. Chris definitely paid Jamie a lot of attention at the activity—she told me how much he was pressuring her to come on the trip and give mountain biking a try. And I noticed he made a point of talking to her at church today. Maybe he is interested. I hate giving relationship advice. I pull a therapist move and throw the question to her.
“Do you think he’s interested?”
Her cheeks flush, and she smiles. “Maybe? I think so. I mean, I felt like he was pretty disappointed yesterday when we talked about me having to work. But you know him better than I do.”
“Huh? I only met him a couple of months ago.”
Jamie’s smile scrunches into confusion. “But I thought—”
“I didn’t meet him until I moved in here. In fact, I think it was you who introduced us my first week at church, remember?”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Chris,” I say, my heart sinking. “Did I miss something?”
“Not Chris!” Jamie laughs. “I’m talking about Noah!”
Noah.
She’s been talking about Noah the whole time.
I should have known.
I probably did know. The hug. Of course she’s talking about Noah.
I think I might be sick.
I can only hope Alec’s interruption to announce that the car is ready covers my confusion and embarrassment and failure to speak after Jamie’s revelation. I collect myself enough to rush a forced cheerful goodbye and hurry Alec to the car so I can make my escape.
I’m thankful, for a change, that Alec prefers loud music while he’s driving. An hour into the drive, my head is still spinning from the conversation with Jamie.
How can I be such a jerk? Jamie has been nothing but kind to me, and although some of her roommate quirks are making me crazy—like her insistence that all the spices, including mine, be arranged alphabetically together—she’s a sweetheart. What right do I have to be annoyed that she’s crushing on a guy who wants nothing more than a casual friendship with me, who has seen me at my worst, most shallow, and most inconsiderate? Especially when—hello!—I’m in a relationship! I should be happy that two good people are interested in each other.
Alec cuts the volume in half and reaches for my hand with a smile. “You okay?” His bright blue eyes show concern; his warm hand offers reassurance and comfort.
Happiness is a choice, right?
Time to choose.
The not-so-gentle reminder of a budding relationship between Noah and Jamie will be exactly the thing I need to help me focus on Alec.
So what if Ivy’s questions all made me think of Noah?
Alec is here, now, and as the saying goes, one bird in the hand . . .