Never Really Over (Bremmy 3)

Chapterish 50

...

"Okay, now for some real food," Josh grins. "The taco spot?"

"Lead the way." I usher him forward.

Josh and I exit the studio and discover ourselves on a decently crowded street. I'm flush from our bathroom quickie, but also high on other things.

We walk a few blocks, skirting some drunk people and some other couples. Everyone is enjoying this cool 70-degree night.

"So I've been thinking about tomorrow," Josh begins, looking at me. "You haven't forgotten?"

"Forgotten our one-year anni? Absolutely not, please." I roll my eyes.

"Big mile-marker," he teases. "So I'm thinking we should extra celebrate."

"Oh yea?" I raise an eyebrow. "How do we extra celebrate?"

"Maybe a trip?" He suggests.

"Well, we are already going to New York next month," I remind him. "Can you get more time off work?"

"I was thinking, maybe, if you didn't want to go to the wedding, we could go that weekend," Josh says.

"What?" I ask, stopping in my tracks on the sidewalk. "What do you mean? If I don't want to go?"

"Just -I mean, they're not really your friends, right? It's your ex-boyfriend's brother and-"

"And Lauren, who is my friend. Who I've been on trips with and invited to her bachelorette and we have to go." I shake my head. I can't explain why we must go.

"Okay, okay." Josh throws up his arms in dismissal. "Forget it. I was just suggesting. Didn't realize it was so important to you to go."

"Well, it is," I say. Again, why?

"Alright," Josh says, taking my hand in his and kissing it. "If it is, we'll go."

"Maybe we can extend the trip. Add a few days to do something just us," I suggest.

"Yea, maybe."

I feel a deflation in the air between us. We are a flat-lining balloon. Desperate to hold onto the post-quickie bliss, I suggest we pop into the corner store and grab some Forties. Reinvigorate ourselves via igniting a buzz.

Josh agrees and we proceed to walk the block chugging from brown-paper bags. So college of us. And it helps. It adds a thin veil of excitement to the night. After a few sips, I'm already feeling even more giggly and frisky than I was at Go Zen. I'm super into PDA tonight.

10:10 PM

We finally find ourselves at the new Mexican Taco spot. It's V fast food in a non-fast food type of way. Right on the side of the road. Loud with cars and music and people. I'm at least three-quarters through my XL beer and an array of street tacos is looking quite tasty to me right now.

"I heard this place has some good spicy tofu," Josh says, beside me.

Always thinking about my vegan dietary restrictions. That's my Joshi.

"Sign me up," I almost slur.

I stare at Josh sideways. He's blurred around the edges, like some distorted motion filter that only adds to the aesthetic. Of course, something my drunken daze cannot expel from my mind: The Valentine's taco truck date with Brooks.

I blink way too fast as if it will help remove the memory from my mind. Josh orders our small haul and steers us over to the nearest picnic table to wait. He picks up a call from someone in the office and I find myself tempted to play with my own phone.

My bones feel prickly. My skin too. Like I want to do something crazy and just sitting around is making me extra itchy. It's that effortless confidence that's often found at the bottom of a bottle. That confidence that has me digging my phone out of my bag, unlocking it, and opening up a certain contact.

I glance over my shoulder and see Josh standing on the curb, head down, deep in conversation with someone. I catch the words IPO and yacht and wonder how they correlate. My eyes drop back to the screen in front of me. To his name.

The fraction of me that's still holding on to some semblance of sobriety fights the rest of me. The dumb drunk parts of me. In truth, I know my text would only hurt. I have nothing to say, anyway. So instead, I channel all my will power into texting the girls.

I pull up my chat with Trix and Meg.

Hiiii bebies. Little drunkie so I ams texting you to avoid making any ot hers mistakes :; )

It's not easy to text right now. I can't even see my typos. Who cares about them, anyway?

I wait (rather impatiently) for both my tofu tacos and a text back from the girls. My stomach wants one more than the other. My mind wants the text. My heart wants to pick door #3.

Josh waves at me, rolling his eyes at the phone call. I hear the people in front of us get their names called for tacos. Ours should be up soon. I let temptation get the better of me and before I can help it, I'm scrolling onto Cece Major's Instagram page.

I know I'm not alone in being the only woman who stalks their ex's new girls or ex's ex's. It's a real thing. And I don't know why we feel the need to do it. And I hate it. But she really is beautiful. In a different way than me. I know that sounds like a cop-out, but it's true. There are things I prefer about myself. Things I prefer of hers. Maybe if you smashed us together you'd get an even hotter more beautiful third girlie.

But it still hurts when I think about things I did with Brooks. That he did with her. Emotions they shared. Sure, he proposed to me first via a water bottle label. I guess I'll always have that.

I feel myself slipping into sad-drunk territory. And I loathe that rabbit hole.

"Perfect timing," Josh says.

He sits across the table from me while dropping our trays of tacos.

"Sorry about the call. Promise I'm not answering it again," Josh says, already biting into his first taco.

I look down at the plate and I'm suddenly not hungry. My full course meal of sadness did the trick. I pick at it and pretend to be hungry, but really I'm just waiting to leave here. I take a swig of Josh's Forty.

"Hey, woah. You finished yours," he jokes. Pieces of tortilla cascade onto the table.

"Let's go out. Like, out-out," I blurt.

"Out-out?" Josh raises a brow, mouth still full.

"A club, a bar," I suggest.

Maybe I'm inspired by seeing everyone else's Friday night stories. Maybe I want to post something cute of me and Josh looking like we do things, looking like we're fun and carefree and other things I'm pretending to be. Maybe I want to do it all for the wrong reasons. So someone sees.

"I have to be up in the morning," Josh reminds me. At least he has the decency to appear somewhat crestfallen.

"Hmpf," I audibly roll my eyes.

"Why don't you see if Demi or them want to go out? Maybe Zoe?" He suggests.

"Yea," I nod. I'm desperate to do something ridiculous. "I think I will."

I pull out my phone again, closing the last window that's still showing a certain perfect caramel-blonde babe.

Still no answer from Meg or Trix. I suppose it is middle-of-the-night their time. But that's no excuse. I pull open my last text with Demi and ask her if she has plans. Luckily, I barely need wait for an answer.

girl U know i do ;)

tell me ur coming!!

I smile up at Josh, who insists that he fully supports I go out and have some fun. He promises to see me bright and early tomorrow to kick off our whole day of one-year anniversary bliss.

I smile down at my phone.

I AM!