Ava makes good on her promise. She's at my side for the rest of the night to make sure my focus is on hanging out with Torin, since the women who came in with Nash remain barnacles in his presence, wherever he goes. He seems to encourage it, though, and has already engaged in a few casual acts of making out with one of them by the time the party heads to the backyard. I see now why Ava said Nash lives for the devil-may-care type of scheme she'd cooked up.
I sit with her and Torin at the pool's edge for a couple of hours, our legs dangling in the water as we laugh over old memories of college pranks and catch up on current happenings in each of our lives. Phoenix spends most of his time on the patio, talking to Nash and the two women. That's probably because of the death glare Ava beams in his direction any time he glances our way. It isn't until well after five in the morning, when we're back inside the house and saying our goodbyes, that he dares to approach me again.
"Can I text you about next weekend?"
He keeps his voice at a low volume, but he's still living dangerously by asking this when Ava is only a few feet away. She's busy joking with Torin and Nash about something, though, and her back is turned to us.
I pretend to rifle through my purse and avoid eye contact. "If you have my number and remember how to send texts, then I'd guess you're physically capable of it."
"Has your number changed?"
"Nope."
If he still has my number, then that's one up on me. Ava made me delete him from my contacts when it became clear he wasn't answering my texts or calls. Letting go of the one tether I had to him at the time wasn't easy, but it prevented me from acting on later moments of weakness when I was tempted to try again. It would surprise me to hear from him after tonight, no matter how he's behaving at the moment. Out of sight, out of mind, has been his modus operandi since the last time we laid eyes on one another.
"Can I hug you before you go?" Phoenix's words are even softer now.
I consider another non-answer that attacks his use of "can" and doesn't answer the question, but it likely isn't worth expending the energy. At least he's requesting permission to get into my personal space this time.
"Sure." My tone is flat. He doesn't notice my lack of enthusiasm, or he ignores it, because his arms sweep me into a hug the instant I agree.
The déjà vu almost knocks me over. I used to feel safe and shielded from the world when Phoenix put his arms around me, and like nothing could ever come between us. His embrace was my cocoon. I'm transported back to that place for a nanosecond, which is also when my arms return his hug.
"I'm so thankful I saw you tonight," he whispers. "You have no idea."
No, I don't. There are other things I also have no idea about, including why I inhale the scents of his soap and shampoo as an automatic reflex, and why my body relaxes, rather than tenses up, the longer I stay in his arms.
"Our ride is waiting for us," Ava chirps. She pats my arm. "Time to go."
Phoenix takes the hint and releases me. I didn't want to breathe the same air as him a few hours ago, so why am I reluctant to step away from him now?
I'm tired, that's why. It has to be. My brain will sort this out after some sleep.
"Good night." I study his face, and I don't know what for. It only reminds me of how attractive he is with a five o'clock shadow and surfaces the memory of when I used to run my fingers over his chin and along his jaw. He appears to search my face for something, too.
The spell breaks when Ava grabs my hand and pulls me away. She says nothing to me while we amble down the driveway and climb into the Uber's back seat. The quiet only lasts until we're buckled in.
"What was that about?" she asks.
I turn my head away from her to peer out the window. The sky is starting to brighten with the first light of dawn. "Later. I'm too exhausted to explain it now."
I wouldn't be able to, anyway, until I've processed the events of the night. I'm having a difficult enough time explaining it to myself.
༺â༻ ༺â༻ ༺â༻
Ava knew what she was doing when she added a late checkout to our hotel stay. It's after 2 p.m. by the time we're out of our room, have hit a Starbucks for coffee and breakfast sandwiches, and are ready to leave Las Vegas. The city skyline fades into the distance after we merge onto Interstate 15.
Ava takes the first driving shift. My few hours of sleep were broken at best, and I'm already looking forward to collapsing into my bed tonight. Ava may sense this, since our conversation for the first hour of the drive tiptoes around what happened at the show and Torin's house. She hasn't mentioned the exchanges she witnessed between Phoenix and me since our Uber ride to the hotel.
If anything, she seems determined to keep my mind on something else. Right now, this involves initiating a singalong to a playlist of songs that are straight out of our freshman year. With the volume cranked up and the two of us belting out tunes and not staying remotely on-key, I nearly miss the chime from my phone.
Nearly. Not entirely.
My phone is propped up beside Ava's in the center console, and connected to a charging cable. I glance at the screen and stop singing, mid-verse. The message label displays a phone number, rather than a name, since the sender isn't in my contacts. It doesn't matter. I know who it's from.
I'm happy we got to talk last night, even if I wish it could have been for longer. I meant what I said about next weekend. Please think about it.
I yank out the charging cable and grab my phone from the console like I need it to put out a fire. Ava can't see this message, or the floodgate that's held her questions back will open and unleash a tidal wave.
"Is that a text from a certain ex who is attempting to rise from the ashes of what he burned down, or did you talk to someone else last night?"
Ava lowers the volume on the music, which means she expects me to answer and could be preparing for a longer conversation. I wonder how much of the message she saw.
"Before you start, I didn't give him my number. He must have had it saved."
"I'm sure he did. What about next weekend does he want you to think about?"
Dammit. She read the whole thing.
"It's nothing." This is the same lie I told her twelve hours ago.
"Is 'nothing' why you still haven't said a word about what I walked in on in Torin's kitchen last night, or what the deal with the extra-long hug was? It sure looked like something was going on between you two."
She isn't letting me off the hook this time. We still have more than three hours together in the car to go, with nowhere for me to escape to. If there's one thing Ava excels at, it's interrogation. She'll get an answer from me one way another, so we might as well discuss this now.
"He was hitting on me and making sure I knew it. That's all."
"Screw that guy." She sneaks a glance at me and then resumes watching the road. "I mean, not literally, unless you want to."
"Ava!"
My shock must come through in my voice, because she laughs out loud. "What? There's nothing wrong with a casual hookup with your ex. Lord knows I've done it. The best part is already knowing what to expect in bed."
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to erase the memories of intimate moments with Phoenix from our two years together that now spring to mind. The physical side of our relationship was never an issue. Far from it. My problem is trying to forget that when it was good, it was so much more than that. I can't let my body crave him again.
"He asked me to spend next weekend with him," I admit. "That's what you walked in on, and what he wants me to think about."
I brace myself for Ava's reply, which is sure to include a few choice expletives about Phoenix and what he's up to.
"This will sound crazy, but hear me out. Maybe you should spend the weekend with him."
I stare at her and try to suss out any sign that she's kidding or using a reverse psychology strategy on me. Her poker face is more convincing than I realized if she is.
"Did we enter another reality when we crossed the state line?" I finally ask.
She smirks. "You know I can't stand what he did to you, and I'll be the first person to hunt him down and smack him into another solar system if he hurts you again. But if you're even the tiniest bit tempted to take him up on what he's asking, then I think you should."
I pinch the skin on my wrist as a test that I am, in fact, awake. Apparently I am.
"May I ask why?"
"So you won't spend months wondering 'what if' and questioning if you made the right choice, and so you won't waste another six yearscomparing everyone you date to what you felt for him because he disappeared andleft you with unfinished business. If nothing else, you can demand answers to all the questions you've had and find real closure. If you get some action along the way, so be it. There are worse things."
She makes it sound so easy, but I barely kept myself together during the brief interactions Phoenix and I had last night. What happens when it's just him and me alone? She has a point about getting answers, though, and about my tendency to second-guess things.
"You're conflicted about what to do," Ava observes.
"That's the understatement of the year." I slump down in my seat.
"Then do what I do when I'm stuck and overthinking things, and flip a coin. Heads, you get together with him next weekend, call him out on his bullshit, and see what happens. Tails, you ignore his message and forget you ran into him. Let the universe decide."
I don't answer. She takes it as a sign to turn the music up again and leaves me to stew in my thoughts. Do I really want to leave this up to a coin toss?
"Fine," I grumble.
"Open the console. There's some loose change in there."
"I have to do it now?"
"No," she replies. "You can always spend the rest of the drive agonizing over what to do and never get those hours of your life back. It's up to you."
I hate how much sense she makes sometimes.
"Fine. I'll get it over with, but then I don't want to hear another peep about it."
Agreeing with her doesn't stop me from making a show of sighing before I open the console and rummage around. The first coin I spot is a quarter. It will do.
I grab the quarter and flip it into the air. It comes within a hair of the headliner, then makes its descent and lands on my seat. George Washington stares up at me. Heads it is.
"Make him wait a bit and sweat it out before you text him back," Ava advises. "You'd better believe I want a full report on what goes down when you see him."