“Here,” she shoves a skirt and off-the-shoulder top at me. “Put that on, fix your face, you have like . . . two minutes.”
Sometimes, I love this girl, other times I’d love to kill her, this is the latter.
Instead of arguing with her, I get changed. I don’t think Eli gives a shit about what I’m wearing, but I want this to be special. After I get dressed, I check my makeup and decide Nicole is an idiot because I was perfectly fine.
A few minutes later, Kristin and Danielle arrive. Both of them left their husband’s and kids at home. I explain again while it’s the four of us that Randy will be here and they have to control their inner fangirls.
“I swear I’ll behave,” Kristin says. “I figure after Eli, this should be easy.”
“I make no promises,” Nicole says as she plops on the couch.
I glare at her. “I swear to God, if you do anything stupid, I’ll pepper spray you.”
Her eyes widen, and I know she’s flashing back to the one time she accidently sprayed herself. Dumbass thought it wouldn’t hurt and was acting like anyone could be a cop, she pushed the button, but it was pointed at her. After that, she’s never even gone near my canisters.
“Not funny.” She crosses her arms.
All of us laugh at her face. She’s such a turd.
Brody and Rachel arrive a few minutes later, and I’m glad they made it. He got along well with Eli at my sister’s memorial. They bonded over the Rays and their predictions for this season. I can’t tell you how happy I was that Brody finally had someone other than me to talk to about baseball.
Five minutes later, the doorbell rings. Once again, a dose of fear hits me. I’ve only met Savannah and Randy once, and it was at their mansion on the beach, now they’ll see my home. Will they think I’m a gold digger? What was I thinking having them come here?
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I know it’s Nicole. Sometimes our damn near telepathy is a blessing. “You’ll be fine. No one is going to judge you, and if they do, famous or not, I’ll kick their ass.”
I nod and open the door.
“Hey!” Savannah says with her arms wide. “I’m so glad you gave us a reason to come out. I swear, Adriel is giving me gray hair.”
“I’m happy you’re here.” I hug her back.
“Hey, Heather,” Randy’s deep voice booms as he pulls me into a hug.
“Savannah, Randy, these are my friends Nicole, Kristin, and Danielle. That’s my partner Brody and his wife Rachel.”
They all take turns saying hello and shaking each other’s hands. It’s clear that everyone but Nicole is nervous meeting Randy. However, Savannah’s constant poking at him makes it easier to see he’s just a guy. Brody and Randy grab a beer and head into the kitchen, leaving all the women to themselves in the living room. I love that my new friends and old are meshing so easily.
“So, what time will Eli get here?” Savannah questions as she scrunches her shoulders.
“Should be here in about ten minutes. I should text him to make sure.”
I pull my phone out and search for the last name that he put himself as, but there is no Best Sex of My Life contact. I should’ve known he’d change it again. I scroll through the contacts from the start. Of course, he doesn’t use his actual name, that would be too easy, so I continue checking each letter.
When I get to what is clearly the new name change, I burst out laughing. He’s a mess, my mess, but a freaking mess.
Savannah looks at me with a mixture of humor and worry. “What’s so funny?”
“He changes his name in my phone each time I forget to hide it.”
“Oh, what has my idiot brother-in-law called himself this time?”
“Mr. Multiple Orgasms.”
She doubles over with laughter, and I shake my head.
Me: Hello, Mr. Multiple Orgasms . . . seriously? I wanted to make sure you’re picking me up at 8? I can’t wait to see you.
Mr. Multiple Orgasms: Yup, I’ll be there by eight. I’m leaving in five minutes.
My smile is automatic. I can’t wait to see his face.
“He’ll be here in about twenty minutes!” I tell everyone and go back to my conversation with Savannah. She laughs about the other names Eli’s given himself, and then we all mingle.
Twenty-five minutes pass and still no Eli, so I shoot him another text.
Me: Hey, you almost here?
Another fifteen minutes pass, and he doesn’t respond. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic?
I mingle with my friends, watching the clock and trying not to jump to conclusions. I have to remember that not everything is a tragedy waiting to happen. Years of being preprogramed to expect the worst is sometimes a curse.
It’s now half past eight, and he’s definitely late, and I’m undeniably concerned.
“I’m not sure where the hell he is,” I say to myself as I make my way around the room. I shoot off another text.
Me: I hope you’re okay . . . please text me back or call me.
Brody comes over, places his hand on my back, and drops his voice to a whisper. “What’s the matter, Covey?”
I look over with surprise.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he admonishes. “I can read you. You’re worried about him being late?”
I subtly shake my head. “I’m fine. He said he’d be here over a half hour ago, and we both know it doesn’t take that long to get here. He isn’t responding to my texts, either.”
I wait for my phone to buzz with a response.
“Everything okay?” Nicole asks when she sees me whispering with Brody.
“She’s just being Heather,” Brody explains.
I shoot him a dirty look, and he shrugs. “He usually texts me right back, and he’s now forty minutes late. I’m wondering why he isn’t responding.”
“Maybe he fell asleep?” she suggests, which is ludicrous.
“After he said he was leaving?” I counter.
“Want me to check in at the station for reports of any accidents?” Brody offers.
I shake my head. “No, I’m probably being stupid. I’m going to call him now.”
I can’t explain it, but there’s a niggling feeling in my gut telling me something else is keeping him. There are times that gut check has been the difference of life and death for me, I don’t tend to ignore it, but I don’t want to be a crazy girlfriend, either.
I make my way outside to see if maybe his car is here, but since there’s no sign of him, I call. The phone rings and rings before his voice mail picks up.
“Hey, babe, I’m calling because it’s been almost an hour since you said you’d be here, and I haven’t heard from you. Give me a call when you can. Love you.”
I disconnect the phone and start to pace the porch. My mind races from one extreme to the other as I go from fear to resolve. A big part of me wants to get in the car and head over there, the other says I have to trust him. He could be held up for a hundred reasons, and my being paranoid isn’t going to be good for a long-distance relationship we’re about to embark on. Not wanting to be dramatic, I convince myself to head inside and give him a little more time.