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“Go get him,” she told me firmly, handing her keys over.
“Thank you!” I breathed, gently taking them from her hands.
Her door slammed in my face again, and a few minutes later, her soap opera was blaring once more. I wasn’t going to wait for her to come back and change her mind. Mrs. Adams’s car was an old Buick that had been kept in immaculate condition. It made me only slightly worried about getting behind the wheel with the little practice I’d had, but I wanted to tell Tommy how I felt. Even if that meant doing something that terrified me to get there.
I hit the unlock button on the key fob and pulled the driver’s-side door open. The inside of Mrs. Adams’s car smelled like Chanel perfume and cinnamon Altoids. It flooded my senses and sent my gag reflex reeling. I punched the button to roll all of the windows down after I turned the key over to start the engine.
My chest clenched as I wrapped my hands around the steering wheel. Every part of me wanted to wait for the bus, but I knew that true growth came when there was a battle to be won. Tonight, the battle would be driving across town in Chicago traffic. I hoped the prize at the end would be worth it.
Without giving it another thought, I put the car in drive and pulled out of my apartment complex’s parking lot. The traffic on the side road that I was pulling out onto was slow, and I eased myself onto the road, making sure to check my mirrors and drive precisely the speed limit.
It’ll be fine, I told myself.
I let out one more breath as I drove out onto the busy road, keeping in the right lane so people could pass me because I’d be damned if I was going to keep up with the flow of traffic tonight. There was one thing I didn’t miss about being behind the wheel and that was the honking. When you were in the passenger seat, it didn’t feel as jarring as someone laying on the horn behind you, cutting around you, and flipping you the bird as they did so.
Tommy’s brownstone was a good twenty minutes across town, and before the accident, I would have turned on some music to occupy the time. Tonight, I didn’t want any distractions. The drive might have been slow, but it was still faster than taking the bus, and it gave me the time to think about what I was going to say to Tommy. I knew I wouldn’t be capable of coming right out and telling him exactly how I felt. But I also didn’t want to make a complete fool of myself trying to beat around the metaphorical bush that was my feelings.
My knuckles had turned white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. I would need to merge onto Lake Shore Drive next, and my anxiety built at the idea of being surrounded by so many other drivers. With one more breath, I merged onto the road and prayed that my instincts would take over. Like driving was like riding a bike.
A car honked at me as I merged in front of it with plenty of space between us. I mumbled a curse word under my breath, not missing the road rage that came with driving. There were only a few minutes left in my drive when I pulled off toward Lincoln Park. I kept my eyes peeled around me, refusing to look away from the street. I was sure I would have driving habits that would stay with me for the rest of my life after that night. Some would only be around for a while until I was comfortable again, while others I would keep with me as a reminder of the night that sent me down a fork in the road that I had not expected.
I pulled off onto Tommy’s road and drove by his house to try to see if he was still home. On the first go-around, I noticed that his lights were still on, so I continued driving around the block to find a parking spot. My heartbeat started to quicken with every second that passed. Every question I had started to race through my mind.
Did I hold a boombox above my head?
Should I give him some grand speech?
Did I propose a new contract for a real relationship?
But no, none of those felt right. None of those were me and Tommy. As I mulled over what to do, I walked up to Tommy’s brownstone with every intention of standing out front until the solution came to me.
The light inside Tommy’s apartment was still on when I stopped in front of it. His front curtains were pulled back, giving me the perfect view inside. I saw Tommy pacing near the windows, dressed in workout clothes. He looked like he was talking to someone, but I didn’t see his phone in his hand. A second later, someone else stepped into view.
My heart dropped all the way to my feet as I recognized who was in Tommy’s home.
Sutton James.
Tommy was articulating something to her while using his hands, and she was reaching out to him, trying to grab on to him. Every part of my brain was screaming at me to leave as quickly as possible. It would only save me the pain of watching whatever was about to unfold between them. But it was like my feet were becoming part of the concrete sidewalk below them. My eyes were glued on the scene in front of me, like I was watching the part of a rom-com where the main character didn’t get the guy. The only sad part was the main character was me and it seemed like I was most definitely not getting the guy.
Whatever speech Tommy had given her must have been over, because the next thing I knew he was wrapping his arms around Sutton, his face buried in her neck like he did with me. I wanted to cry and throw up all at once. I couldn’t rip my eyes away from Tommy with his arms around his ex-girlfriend even if I tried.
A part of me had always known I would end up the fool in this situation. This whole mess started because of Tommy’s previous actions, and like they always say, leopards don’t change their spots.
Tommy
As soon as I had dropped Maggie off this morning, I cursed myself that I didn’t tell her how I really felt. The second I realized what Maggie had done to help get my dad and me to communicate on the same level, I knew I was a goner. I wanted to tell her over breakfast, but all the feelings I had for her seemed to clog my throat, unable to be voiced.
The entire ride back to my brownstone consisted of me debating turning back around to tell her or trying to figure out some big gesture I could do to prove it to her like one of her favorite romantic movies. My planning continued once I got back inside my apartment to tell the girl that I love exactly how I felt about her. Except my planning was interrupted by the sound of my doorbell.
Could it be Maggie? Maybe she feels the same way and came back to tell me?
I hurried to the front door and threw it open without bothering to check who was on the other side. A smile spread across my face at the expectation of seeing the girl of my dreams on the other side, only to be knocked off when the girl of my nightmares stood there instead.
“Sutton?”
“Can we talk?”
“Why are you in Chicago?”
