Slide Into My DM

Chapter Ten

Megara

The one time a year Frankie wears a dress and she looks stunning. It’s this black velvet cami, with a sweetheart neckline that she can pull off without a b*a given her little chest. It comes just to the right place on her thighs, her black pumps making her legs look that much longer. She let me curl her black hair, doing a half-updo into a bun. And for once! She did simple, clean eye makeup and a powerful red lip.

Pulling her favorite black leather jacket on, she gives me a look, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay tonight?”

In sweats, in a blanket nest on the couch, with a whole pizza to myself, I wave her off. “I’m fine. This isn’t my first Valentine’s Day without a boyfriend.”

Her soft face hardens ever so slightly with concern. “This is your first Valentine’s Day without me, though.”

“You and Ralph can actually do something together tonight; you deserve it after three years of having to do it early or wait.”

She purses her lips. “This day isn’t a big deal to me…. It is to you, though.”

I wave with both hands, “Go. Go have fun, for the both of us.”

She finally smiles. “I have my phone, okay?”

“Yes, yes, now go!”

When I hear the door lock, I feel all the tension in my body subside and I fall back into the nest. Now I have the apartment to myself to do this whole self-love, self-care Valentine’s Day thing I’d been planning. Was I dressing up and getting all fancy for no other reason than to take pictures? Uh, f**k yeah.

Some I’ve already thought out for my aesthetic i********:, some will be more candid and silly for my personal. Not that I’m a ‘date yourself’ person, (I actually think that’s a really stupid concept and should be readdressed as being comfortable alone), but whatever. Plus, when Frankie hadn’t known Ralph was available, she’d already picked up champagne and I found macaroons at Target. All I need is to grab the roses out of my room.

Long, hot shower, I’m tempted to take a bath. Hair blown dry; I pull it into a perfect bun behind my right ear. The rose clip from Claire’s slides it perfectly above it. Simple, sparkly makeup, a low-cut top, my mother’s rose locket and I’m ready for pictures.

After all the posts are done, I sit back and study my feed. Feeling extremely satisfied, I have had a successful night after all, and it’s only seven.

Thomas

Spread out in the living room armchair, The Mandalorian is running on the tv for my fourth re-watch. I’d been all excited to have the apartment to myself, but now I’m just bored. The Chinese food that sounded fantastic at the time, didn’t live up to expectations. And it wasn’t that I particularly wanted to get drunk tonight, so even light drinking literally and figuratively left a bad taste in my mouth.

Scrolling through i********:, I send any Baby Yoda or Witcher meme I can find to the group chat. Though, nobody’s responding because they’re all out with someone already or trying to find someone for the night. Backing out of the chat, I notice a new message from T & R.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

You too!

Before I can even back out, there’s a new message.

Oh, hi!

Hi. Hope I’m not distracting you.

Hm? Oh, no, I’m at home.

Kind of happy about that, I hope it’s not due to a shitty date. But might as well ask.

Night going that well, huh?

Actually, yes.

I’m solo tonight, so I don’t have anything to worry about.

Oh, f**k yeah.

I’m at home too.

Solo, as well.

I type my message and hold it. But if there ever was a day in the year to ask, wouldn’t this be it?

Wanna meet up?

When she doesn’t respond I think I must have scared her off again. Worried it might be days before I hear back, I curse. But then, her response pops up.

You know what, why not?

I sit forward in my chair, “Oh, Hell yes!”

Really?

Typing so fast I have to go back and correct autocorrect, I ask another important question.

Okay! Is Barnes And Noble in Fairlawn okay?

We could get a coffee in the café.

Sure!

Eight o’clock okay?

“f**k, yes!” I yell into the empty apartment.

Yes, definitely.

I still have my hair done like in the picture.

I haven’t seen her posts tonight, so I quickly hop over. And “Oh my God,” she’s a brunette.

I’ll bring The Great Gatsby with me.

I’ll be there.

Patrick adjusts the passenger heating vents. “See, now aren’t you glad I came home when I did? Since you’re being all squirrely, I can go in there first and make sure it’s all copacetic.”

“I’m not being squirrely.”

He snorts, “I can’t remember the last time you were this wound over a girl."

“I’m fine, it’s fine.”

He leans back and is scrolling through his phone. “She’s really strategic in her Insta, no showing her face. Has she sent you a selfie?”

“All she said was her hair is like her last picture with –”

“With the rose?” I feel his elbow push my arm, “Oh adorable!”

I feel my cheeks warm. “She’s a brunette though, so that’s a plus.”

“Uhuh….”

At a stoplight, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “Oh God, what am I doing?” I look over at him. “How is this…? What if she…?” I look back to the street, “Oh Valentine’s Day, no less.”

“You’re meeting a stranger off the internet, people do it all the time.”

I nod, my head bobbing. “Right.”

“And you know, if she turns out to be a total b***h, you can just walk away.”

“Just a cup of coffee and I can go,” I agree.

Pulling into the Barnes And Noble, I take a deep breath. “Okay… okay, here we are.”

After getting out and locking up, Patrick and I stand just outside of the door. “Look, she is probably one of the most adorable girls I’ve ever been in contact with. Even if she’s as good-looking as a mailbox, I would be crazy not to turn my life inside out and date her.”

We enter together and I point to the café, “We’re meeting in there.” Pushing a hand through my hair, I look around nervously. “Okay, okay… okay.”

As I walk into the store instead of towards the café, I pull Patrick closer, “Okay, so she’s got her hair like that picture,” I continue us past huge shelves, “and she’s got a copy of The Great Gatsby.”

Mostly hidden, at the corner of the café, I push Patrick forward. I watch him as his eyes search the little area. It has been a bit crowded but surely it couldn’t be that hard to find her.

He snaps at me, then takes a step back, “Okay, I think I see her.”

I brace my hands together, “And?”

Taking a step back okay, he confirms, “Book on the table, rose in her hair.”

“Brown hair?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah.”

“And what does she look like?”

Then hesitates and looks between me and her a couple of times. “Well, she kind of looks like that Meg girl.”

Confused, I ask, “Meg? From English?”

He comes back towards me, “You said you thought she was pretty, yeah?”

“Yeah, you saw her pictures. But what does that have to do with anything?”

He leads me down the aisle, “‘Cause… it is Meg.”

Though he points, I don’t need to follow it to see her. She’s sitting at a middle table, just in front of the mugs for sale. Chocolatey hair parted on the side, sweeping bangs just so, vintage-looking bun with a rose like in the picture. Her Winter pale skin has a warm glow about it, maybe because of the heat of the store, her cheeks noticeably flush. Also, like in the picture, she wears a dark red sweater with a plunging neckline, the locket straight above her cleavage.

I notice her hands fidget with the book, a really well-loved copy of The Great Gatsby. Her phone is also on the table, which she checks. I look at mine, it’s now exactly eight o’clock.

“What are you going to do?” Patrick whispers. “I thought you said she hated you – was a pill and all that.”

“Hate is a strong word,” that I didn’t know was true or not.

“But she really, really, really doesn’t like you,” he chuckles.

I hit his arm. But he’s probably right. Tucking behind the tall bookcase, I hold the back of my neck. “Well, fuck.”

Patrick is still watching her, “She just checked her phone again.”

I hear mine ding. “Fuck.”

“What are you going to do? Just not show up?”

Megara

Fifteen minutes seems long enough for someone to be late without warning. It wouldn’t be that hard to voice-to-text or at a stoplight type ‘late’. Looking around, feeling foolish, I put my phone face down on my book. I wouldn’t blame him if he got cold feet, I just wish he would be honest.

My drink down to ice, I figure it would be a good a time as any to leave. I curl around the mugs for sale and throw away the plastic cup, noting I really should pick out a reusable Starbucks bottle.

Just as I turn, I see Thomas Banks (of all f*****g people) sitting at my table, looking at my book. “Uh, hi?”

I hadn’t meant for my voice to come off so aggressive but it’s easier to be angry than sad. He seems unphased, “You were right, this is a good book.”

Feeling awkward just standing, I sit, then snatch my book out of his hands. “I know.”

He cups his hands over the table and tilts his head, “Your hair looks really nice.”

Absently my hand reaches for my bun, “Thanks.”

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?”

“Actually, I’m kind of expecting someone… he should be here soon.”

He clicks his phone screen on, “Eight-twenty-five on Valentine’s Day, that’s a little late, don’t you think?”

My heart starts pounding furiously, my brows coming together and lips thinning. “And what about you? Couldn’t find anyone to take pity on you? Couldn’t find anyone to buy for the night?”

My hand cups my mouth instantly. Feeling my eyes welling up, I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m sorry.” I shove my book in my bag and I stand. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

He holds my phone out to me, “Frankie is calling.”

I take it and practically run out of the store. Safe in my car, my body is so stressed I can’t help but cry. Calling Frankie back, my voice quakes, “Hello?”

“Meg! Oh my God, Meg!”

“Y-yeah?”

“Something just happened, I have to tell you! Wait… wait, are you crying?”

I hit my steering wheel. “N-no,” I sniff, “I’m fine.” I clear my throat, “What’s going on?”

There’s some movement on her end then her voice softens, “Meg, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Are you coming home soon?”

“I can be there in ten minutes.”

I blink through tears, looking around. “I’m at Barnes And Noble, it’s going to take me fifteen or twenty.”

“I’ll be there.”

Having cried all the way home, I can’t tell what I’m more upset about. ‘G never showing up or how cruel I was to Thomas. Wiping my face again with my sleeve, it’s dry but puffy and my eyes sting. I struggle through a deep inhale and shake out an exhale then open the door.

Frankie is standing there, hands on her hips. Once she sees me she rushes for a hug, “Meg! Hi!” When she pulls back, her hands go to my face. “What the Hell happened? Who the Hell do I need to beat up?”

After giving her another hug, I walk over to the sofa and plop down. “I went to meet the i********: guy and he never showed.”

Arms crossed right over her chest; she sits on the armrest of the chair. “What a f*****g dick.”

I wave a hand and close my eyes, head back on the cushions. “That’s not even the worst part. Thomas showed up.”

“Motherfucker… what did he say?”

“It wasn’t what he said, it’s what I said.” I look over at her, “I asked why he was alone tonight and then asked not just ‘couldn’t find anyone to take pity on you’ but also ‘couldn’t find anyone to buy for the night’.”

She bursts out laughing, “Oh, Meg. My sweet, innocent Meg.”

I cover my face with both hands. “I didn’t mean a p********e!”

Still laughing, “Oh, honey, I know.”

“He’s just such a cocky, piece of s**t, rich boy….”

She sits down next to me, a hand on my leg. “He’s an asshole, you shouldn’t worry yourself so much over it. Now… this i********:, guy, though, I’m about ready to tear him a new one.”

I cross my arms over my stomach and look at the ceiling. “I don’t know…. It was last minute, after all. What if there was an emergency or something?”

She scoffs, “Like what?”

“Well… he has a sister, right? Maybe she got her heart broken or something and he had to go help.”

Frankie leans back. “Well, okay. Maybe!” she points. “But he should have at least messaged you.”

Trying to bargain I say, “If he doesn’t message tonight, you can yell at him tomorrow.”

She raises her hands, “Fair enough.”

Finally, feeling less stressed I ask, “What about you, though? What happened? How’d the date go?”

Huge smile on her face, she grabs my hand. “Ralph proposed!” she squeaks.

Thomas

I’ve been thinking… about you, about last night. I wanted to meet you and you never showed. I wish I knew why…. I’m sure whatever came up was important, I’ll totally understand whatever it is you tell me.

I can’t lie, I felt foolish. I’m not one to usually meet up with strangers. I don’t even use dating sites.

And to make it worse… that guy I told you about, the guy that makes my class almost unbearable? He showed up. But it wasn’t so much him that was the problem, (shocking, I know), it was that I was so undeniably cruel.

I said something I shouldn’t have, I said something I want to take back. I don’t know if what I said even mattered to him. I’m utterly insignificant to his grand life, I’m sure.

But it matters to me.

Even if I don’t matter, I shouldn’t have acted that way. There’s no excuse – no matter how annoying he may be, how much he acts like a know-it-all, or whatever issue I may see…

I should not have acted that way.

Anyway, please let me know you’re alright. I was worried all night that you were hurt or something worse.

You are my friend… sometimes you feel like more than a friend. All our little ‘nothing’ conversations have meant a tremendous something to me. So, thank you… and I hope you’re okay.

- T & R

Lying flat on my bed, head at the foot and feet on my pillows, I hold my phone in the air and re-read her message for the third time. I lower my phone to my chest and try to follow the ceiling fan with my eyes. She’s not awful… she’s not. For months she’s proven time and time again and amazing and sweet and wonderful and brilliant a woman she is. She just… felt attacked.

Yeah… she just felt attacked so went on the defense. And now, she’s worried that I – Triple G, I - got into a freakin’ car crash or something. Knowing her – the real her, the T & R her, she probably was worried all night, tossing, and turning. Knowing her, she’d been wanting to blow up my DM.

But what could I possibly say now? That could make any of this okay? Either as Thomas, who she thinks is a pompous asshole, or as Triple G, who stood her up.

I look at my phone again. See her message again. Then click all the way out of i********: and turn my phone screen off.

I could lie…. I could say a car crash. But then she’d be worried about my safety. So maybe not. What about… a family emergency? But then she’d ask if whoever is okay. Okay… so nothing that would involve me or anyone I know getting hurt.

What about work? No… no, she knows I don’t have a job while focusing on school. Oh! School! Right? … but it was Friday night. And I had already said I was at home, alone, too, and could meet her.

An ex-girlfriend wanted to get back together? No… well, no, right? Because I want her to still like me.

Message open, f**k it.

I am truly sorry for what happened last night. I can’t get into the specifics, but please know that I am alright and accept my apology. My dear friend, I feel awful that not only did I cause you pain, but you felt like you were in a situation where you couldn’t be yourself.

I bet you anything that what you said last night was provoked. Maybe even deserved. Everyone, including myself, says things they soon regret when they are worried or stressed or otherwise emotional. You were expecting to share a table with someone you trusted and feel safe with and were confronted with the opposite instead.

Your hurt is my fault and again I am so sorry. One day I’ll explain everything, and I hope you’ll understand. In the meantime, I’m not going anywhere.

We can have many more nothing somethings to come.

- Triple G.