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Gorlag cringes. “Not really a fan of that choice in vocabulary but I get what you’re saying. So, you’re moping on my couch cause the guy you like is really hot and cool?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. “No, don’t you get it? He’sperfect, Gorlag! He’s hot and talented and he walks around on stage like he knows it! He could have any man he wanted. Why would he give the time of day to someone who broke his heart so thoroughly when we were teenagers? I don’t have a chance.”
Gorlag thinks for a moment, then finishes his beer. I watch in awe as the billionaire asshole I once knew so well rinses the bottle in the sink and carefully places it in a bin marked as recycling.
“You know, there are times when I feel like I don’t deserve Emily,” Gorlag says.
I shake my head, putting my hands up to stop him. “No. No, it’s not the same.”
“It is the same,” Gorlag replies insistently. “I was terrible to her, but she was the one who decided she forgave me. She decided she still loved me. Not me. You don’t get to decide for Bradford if he forgives you. He gets to tell you himself. Understand?”
I lean against the counter and chug down some more of the peach flavored ale. “You’re saying I should give him the chance to reject me in person?”
Gorlag laughs and slaps me on the shoulder. “No, you idiot, I’m saying you’re not a mind reader! If you really have feelings for him, you need to reach out and give him the chance to express how he actually feels about you. If you try to predict and decide how he feels without his input, you’re doing both of you a disservice.”
Something in my head clicks. I think I understand what Gorlag is trying to say. And I’m still in disbelief that it’s Gorlag saying it. “I understand what you mean, Gorlag, but you weren’t there. You didn’t—”
“Shut up,” Gorlag says. “Was he rude, dismissive, or cold to you in the grocery store?”
I think back to our chance encounter, and shake my head. “No. Not at all. But he was probably—”
“And if I remember, you two were incredibly passionate about each other before you decided attachments made you weak. Correct?”
Gorlag’s question forces me to reminisce about those times. Being young, stupid, and what I now know was desperately in love. My cheeks burn hot at the memories. I nod.
“Then you owe it to both of you to reach out. Now, actually.” Gorlag takes the empty bottle from me and continues the same recycling routine. I simply grip the counter and consider his words. Somehow, Gorlag's motivational speech is working. I start to feel reinvigorated, like maybe there’s actually a chance we can have something together!
That maybe Bradford could forgive me, or deign to let me be in his life again. The thought of that possibility provokes me to action.
“Alright. Alright, I think I will. I’ll call him. Now!” I say, scrambling to grab my cell phone from my pocket.
“No. Video call him,” Gorlag says. “You want to see his reaction. Gauge his receptiveness with his body language.”
I nod quickly, and send Bradford a video call request. Gorlag stands nearby, captivated by my personal drama. I hiss at him to leave and he does, apologizing quietly, and as he leaves I hear him reprimanding Amelia for eavesdropping at the door.
I take a deep breath, and as the door shuts again, doubt begins to flood my veins with ice water. What if he’s busy and I’m bothering him? Maybe I should have been more passive, like sending a text message instead? I’m panicking, about to click the hang up button, when Bradford picks up.
“Ragnar!” he cries in disbelief. My chill in my limbs immediately melts away, replaced with the warmth of his smile. Bradford is sitting in what looks like a kitchen. The evening sun is bathing him in orange light. The makeup and styling product from earlier is washed out, just leaving his perfect hair and skin on display. Even wearing a loose fitting sweatshirt, he looks incredible.
I realize I’m staring and clear my throat. “Hi, Bradford. How are you?” I wince at how pathetic that sounded. But Bradford doesn’t seem to mind.
“Oh my God, Ragnar, I saw you at the show but you left before I could say anything. I’m so glad you came though!”
I blink. “Oh, you saw me?” I ask. Here comes that anxiety, crashing back.
“Yeah, I figured you had some work thing come up and had to leave. But I was happy to see you.”
My heart flutters. He was happy to see me? Truly? He doesn’t look like he’s mocking me. He seems genuine in his words. I smile back at him.
“Well, you know, you looked incredible up there. You certainly found a career you’re good at. Sorry I couldn’t tell you that in person.” But maybe I still could? Maybe even I really want to. Gorlag’s words play back in my head and fill me with one last adrenaline shot of confidence. “Would you like to go out with me sometime? Maybe this weekend, even? I’d like to catch up and hear all about your life now.” I nod, hoping the words that just clumsily fell out of my mouth weren’t too embarrassing.
But Bradford looks shocked, like he can’t believe I had the audacity to ask that of him. I knew it, I knew this was a bad idea.
“I…yes! Yes, Ragnar, I’d love to go out with you. Is Saturday alright? After seven works for me. I don’t know this town that well, so you should probably pick the spot.”
I blink, stunned at the reply. That was a strange way of saying ‘I hate you Ragnar and want you to go die’. He really wants to go out with me? I laugh in disbelief and nod again.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll pick the place and let you know. Seven on Saturday. I’ll see you then!” We say our farewells and hang up. I’m left alone and stunned. Bradford’s reaction was… unexpected. Now I don’t know what to think. Mixed with equal measures of glee and terror, I balance myself with the countertop and breathe.
