Flipping Coins

Jordan would be the perfect solution to this night, but maybe it would have been better for me to just go home. I didn’t really want to hang out with other guy friends--especially if these guys were supposed to be my so-called ‘date’--in front of Brendon, for more than one reason.

Firstly, it would now seem like I was trying to create envy within Brendon, which I was totally not because I could live 1,000,000,000 more years before I would want a spark of drama to creep back into my life. Secondly, Brendon did not seem to like Jordan all that much in the first place, and I’m sure he didn’t want to spend his farewell party with someone he didn’t even like as a person. And finally, and most importantly, I didn’t want to get over Brendon.

I loved Brendon. I would always want him, and it wouldn’t be fair to love someone else while I’m dating another. I wouldn’t be physically cheating on Jordan, but it would still be just as wrong.

And then there was always the tiny conflict of the possibility of Jordan not even liking me like that. For all I know, Ryan could have begged him to come here tonight. Forgive me, but sometimes the conceited part of my being gets the best of me.

Jordan was cracking jokes the whole return journey to the backroom, and normally, I would have been laughing my ass off at 99% of the stuff that came out of his mouth. This time, however, I had to use my forced, artificial laugh to give Jordan satisfaction. I was too nervous and shaken up to really pay attention and let my sense of humor function to its full potential. Jordan bought it, though, and was just about to break the punch line of some random story involving peaches, when we stepped back into the dimly lit private backroom.

At first, no one noticed the pair of us paused at the doorway, taking in the mellow scene with slight fear, on my end. Then, Spencer’s vibrantly blue eyes flew to meet mine, and a grin equivalent to that of Satan’s son’s crossed his freshly shaven, full face.

“Hey--she’s back! Emie!...and Emie’s date!” Spencer claimed, adding on that last part with delay since he didn’t know Jordan’s name. He smiled cheekily at my horrified expression, knowing full well I did not want the spotlight of attention focused on me and my ‘date.’

But it was too late, because as soon as Spencer had proclaimed the news, everyone turned to get a good look and maybe snap a quick picture on their iPhones at Emie and her new, mysteriously unknown boyfriend.

Brendon immediately jerked his head upward with enormous brown eyes expanding upon his face--his dilated pupils flickering from Jordan to me with dozens of unreadable emotions clumped together. Evelia glanced to us with curiosity; her expression was smooth and just as unreadable as Brendon’s possessed eyes. Everyone else was laughing and teasing, snapping embarrassing pictures on their cellphones while my face was still branded red.

Ryan flew out of his chair, doing so the instant he had heard Spencer’s words. He ran to us, holding my gaze with wide, fearful eyes.

When he finally reached us, he stammered out, “Emie! God, I--I thought you left and--and I see you’ve found Jordan here! Great! So how was the trip, man? I know you just flew in yesterday and all. Jetlag got you yet?”

His words were edgy and fumbling, and he refused to meet my unwavering gaze. He purposefully chose to strike up some small talk with Jordan to procrastinate having a talk with me. Ryan was assuming the worst from my flushed cheeks.

Jordan eyed me unsurely before he looked back at Ryan. “Um--no, I haven’t got the lag yet. The flight was okay, but I can never seem to get passed those damn anxious flight attendants. I seriously think that they each take turns snorting back there, in that little private room they share. I’m still working on a conspiracy plot to reveal the truth, but its progressing well.”

Ryan’s eyes kept fearfully flickering to the side to look at me. I ignored him and laughed at Jordan’s comment, the same artificial ring to it as before. Ryan realized that whatever Jordan had said had meant to be funny and hurriedly laughed along with me--our fake chuckles mingling into one chorus of bogus keys.

As soon as we were through laughing, I turned to ask Ryan, “So where should we sit?”

Ryan’s eyes were back to their wide state as he dared to look at me. “Um--anywhere,” he said quickly, trying to persuade us to sit down so he wouldn’t have to talk to me one-on-one. It was almost funny to watch him like this--scared and jumpy.

“Groovy,” Jordan commented, taking a step toward the table. When he noticed I wasn’t following him, Jordan turned back around and asked, “Emie Goosey--you going to sit?”

“Yeah,” I answered, trying not to smirk as I said these words. “Just give me a sec. I need to have a quick chat with Ryan.”

Ryan’s eyes doubled, and I swear he could have shit his pants right then and there. He watched with terror-filled eyes as Jordan nodded, turned around, and walked to the table where he was greeted by my overenthusiastic friends, who were undoubtedly going to torture him until my return.

“Ryan,” I stated, now serious and not starting this conversation just for the amusement of watching as Ryan soiled himself.

He slowly turned to face me--face pail. Quite haphazardly, Ryan sprung to life and quickly explained at a speed of 90 words per second, “Emie, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have called Jordan, and I know you’re mad, but it’s better this way! You won’t be alone! Please, just think about it before you kill me! Don’t hurt me! Please---“

“Oh, shut up, you ball-less saint,” I laughed. “I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, I’m going to do the opposite.” With that, I gave Ryan a quick hug, so fast that it would have been impossible to snap a picture of it.

Ryan looked confused, so I elaborated, “You’re right…about everything. The outfit, the pros of coming tonight, the ‘date’ needing to be here--everything. I can’t thank you enough. And I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with you gone for two whole months.” I looked down, ashamed to admit that he was the glue that held me together.

Ryan’s eyes had shrunk back to their usual size and were now almost squinting with sympathy from my confession. “Emie,” Ryan said softly, rubbing my shoulder in comfort, “you can always call me. Even if it’s during a concert, I swear I will check my phone the second I get off that stage. You are never alone.”

Feeling the Hallmark moment closing in, I nodded and gave him a smile. “Thanks, my Ryho.”

“That’s my Ryho, thank you very much,” stated a jokingly dignified voice from behind me.

Ryan’s brown eyes suddenly shimmered with affection at something just beyond my left shoulder, and I didn’t need to turn to see who the mystery voice belonged to. Ryan shot me a smile before he moved behind me to the owner of the voice. Once I did turn around, my undoubted suspicions were proven correct when I noted Fran curled up in Ryan’s arms, staring at the anorexic man with equal passion swirling in her big, carefree eyes.

I casted the united couple an adoring smile at how perfect they were before my procrastination to return to the table could no longer be detained. I then moved to take my seat at the table of doom.

Of course, when I sat down inbetween Ryan’s currently vacant chair and a composured and totally relaxed Jordan, the hot topic of the whole table was centered on my ‘boyfriend.’

Gretel--the runner-up master of sabotage, under Spencer, of course--was under contemporarily in the process of pestering Jordan with unnecessary questions about his sexuality….

“Have you ever even thought about, you know, playing for the other side? Like for Team Wieners?” Gretel inquired, everyone else snickering and hiding giggles at her remark.

Jordan chuckled, not in the least bit bothered by her constant query, and responded right off the bat, “I mean, even if I ever, or will ever, think about men as being attractive creatures, all I’d need to do to cure myself is simply buy Brokeback Mountain out of a Wal-Mart $2.99 bin and endure the excruciatingly painful two-hour film, and then I’m back to avoiding fellow wieners at all costs.”

Every person seated at that table immediately went wide-eyed with smiles--the majority of them laughing at Jordan’s comment, obviously impressed. Pete Wentz even applauded in Jordan’s favor, the whole table soon joining along in the gesture. Jordan just simply smiled and did an awkward little bow in his seat.

But there were a few exceptions to this pronoun of everyone--and their names were Emie and Brendon. While everyone clapped and cheered for my date, I half-smiled at the success-bounded boy I’d known for so long, amazed that he had outsmarted someone as diabolical as Gretel. And I didn’t notice it until a moment later that I was being watched…again.

Brendon, the other exception, had watched Jordan during his witty reply, but as soon as his mouth had uttered the final word of ‘costs’, Brendon’s dark eyes fixated upon me, watching for my reaction. When I accidentally peered a little too far to the left, my eyes found Brendon’s questioning gaze.

Unsure of what to do, I fought back the urge to look away, and continued to peer back at Brendon with my poker face. I didn’t understand what he wanted from me. He wanted me gone, he wanted me dateless, he wanted me to stare at him and him only--it was too much. I couldn’t handle his indecision anymore, and I finally understood that I needed to get over Brendon. I needed to move on with my life, and find someone else.

And knowing this necessity to cut off the anchor that was dragging me down, I was finally able to look away from Brendon. I was finally able to let go--but the question was, could I keep it that way?