Now that Brady had been effectively eliminated from my shrinking list of potential boyfriends, I could focus on Dave. But I was determined to still see through my waiting until after Thanksgiving plan, which really hadn’t had anything to do with Brady anyway. I wanted to make sure I wanted Dave for Dave and not just because I had broken up with Jared and wasn’t able to be with Brady.
It felt very mature of me, even though it was basically killing me to know I had to not kiss him when I saw him tonight. If I did, it was going to negate all my plans about making sure I was going to be with him for the right reasons.
Which is why at dinner I begged Celia to go get me some lobster or crab cakes or even canned salad shrimp—I didn’t care what—but I needed some kind of seafood insurance to keep us from making out. She’d brought out four shrimp and a boxed cupcake that she assured me had been baked in a completely different part of the kitchen and wouldn’t have come into contact with any seafood. I was suspicious, but she said they were very diligent about that kind of thing since they did the catering for outside events, so I had to trust her. And anyway, Dave had assured me he’d gotten that prescription filled for his EpiPen and carried it at all times.
Then, I made sure Emmie was coming with me to meet with him, despite her protests. But she’d bought him that guitar and it was his birthday, I reasoned. She should be there to give it to him herself. I couldn’t tell her my other reason for wanting her there, which was to see them around each other—if there was any doubt Dave was over her or vice-versa, it wasn’t going to work for us. I meant it when I told Emmie I wouldn’t date him if it was going to come between her and I. As much as I did really like him and it would be crappy if after all this I couldn’t be with him, Emmie was my friend and roommate and that always had to take precedent.
So while my intention to keep away from him was mature, my tactics probably weren’t. But like they say, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
At a few minutes to seven, Emmie grabbed the guitar and I slid his card into the envelope, grabbed his cupcake and we headed over to the library to meet him. We sat in our regular study room, chatting about nothing as we waited. I think she was as nervous as I was to see him, but neither of us broached the subject, even though it kind of created a tension in the room before he even arrived.
He came in a few minutes after us, seeing me first and giving me a big smile, but then noticing Emmie and doing a double-take as the smile dissolved from his face. “Oh,” slipped out of his mouth involuntarily before he could paste on a friendly smile and greet us both with a, “Hey.”
Maybe this was a bad idea, I thought, cringing at how awkward this all suddenly was.
Emmie looked at Dave and I watched her expression very carefully for signs that she wasn’t totally over him. Then I looked at him for the same. Thankfully, I saw nothing that resembled lovesick regret, only some tense awkwardness, which I guess was to be expected.
“So, happy birthday,” Emmie said, breaking the silence.
“Thanks,” Dave said, dropping into one of the chairs across the table from us. He looked around. “Where’s my cake? I was promised cake.”
I pushed the cupcake box at him. “Here.”
He opened it and grinned like he’d never seen a cupcake before. “We forgot candles,” I said.
Dave shrugged as he picked up the chocolate cupcake, peeled away the paper on one side and shoved most of it in his mouth. Then he looked between Emmie and I, chewed a few times and said, “Sorry, was I supposed to share?”
We laughed and before we even answered, he took another huge bite.
Emmie and I exchanged glances and I nodded at her to go first. She looked at Dave and said, “So yeah, this might be weird, but I bought you this present a while ago and although we’re not dating anymore, Brooklyn convinced me that I should still give it to you.”
Dave was still chewing, but he’d slowed down as he listened and I could tell he was wondering what was coming.
Emmie leaned down to pick up the guitar from under the table and Dave shot me a questioning look, but I just smiled back at him. She brought the guitar up and placed it gently on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a half second and then looked at her, his mouth open, eyes wide. “This is a...” he didn’t finish.
Emmie nodded. “I knew you wanted one.”
“You didn’t have to do this, Em,” he said, the last bite of his cupcake forgotten as he swept the box out of the way so he could pull the guitar toward him.
“I wanted you to have it,” she said. “I still do. Just...don’t read into it too much, okay?” she added, her eyes darting to me.
I was watching them closely and part of me was jealous that she had such a perfect gift for him and all I’d brought was a card and a cupcake. I worried that I’d never be able to give him something so meaningful (and expensive—I wasn’t exactly broke, but this guitar had been way more than I could ever justify spending to my dad. Emmie’s resources were seemingly unlimited), but I tried to convince myself of that whole ‘it’s the thought that counts’ thing and that once we were dating and I really got to know him, I’d be able to come up with meaningful gifts, too.
“It’s too much. Seriously, Em,” he said, pushing it toward her, but keeping his hands on it.
She shook her head. “It’s custom made. I can’t return it. Either you take it or I’m going to donate it to charity.”
He seemed to be dealing with some sort of inner conflict about it, like he was wondering if Emmie really did want to donate it to charity, and with her and her causes, I could hardly blame him. But she finally let him off the hook. “You know what?” she said, giving him one of her best challenging looks. “If you don’t take it, I’m going to go all rock star and smash it, so you’d better just take it.”
Obviously knowing Emmie and what she was capable of, he quickly pulled the guitar toward himself, wrapping his arms around it in a protective gesture. “You wouldn’t!”
Emmie and I both laughed.
I slid the card I’d brought toward him. He gave me a huge smile, completely disproportionate to what was inside the envelope. “Don’t get all excited,” I warned. “It’s not a gift card or anything that comes even close to comparing to a custom-made guitar.”
“I wasn’t comparing,” he said. “Thank you.” And then he slipped the card into his backpack. Which was completely unnecessary, because it was just a goofy card I’d ordered online when I’d realized I wouldn’t be able to get off campus before his birthday.
“You can open it,” I said quickly, suddenly feeling weird that he thought there might be private stuff on it that he’d have to hide from Emmie.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll look at it later.”
Gah, so awkward.
“So, are you going to play it?” I asked, because he looked like he was totally itching to.
Obviously not needing any more encouragement, he smiled and picked up the guitar, pushing back away from the table and cradling it on his legs. But before he could even test the strings, Emmie was standing up.
“Where are you going?” I asked, surprised.
“I’m exhausted and still have some homework to finish up before bed.”
Dave’s face fell. “Stay for one song?”
“It’s okay. I really should go. Happy Birthday, Dave,” she said, giving him a smile before she left us alone in the study room in the library with her name on it.