Flipping Coins

I'm not responsible for the damage this blindingly gorgeous banner does to your visions. You've been warned. By the awesome Jessica.

“You’re leaving?” Jordan repeated, watching with wide eyes as I snatched up my purse and sweater. “Is it because I changed your ringtone?”

“No!” I exclaimed. “Why would I leave because of that? Use your head, Hillman.”

“Then why?” Jordan demanded. “Why in the world do you have to leave at a time like this?”

“I just have to,” I said, meeting his questioning eyes with reluctance. “My best friend is in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Jordan asked, standing up and putting his hands on his hips indignantly. “The STD kind?”

“Get off it, Jordan!” I yelled, but not in the I’m-making-a-scene tone. “He’s not some hooker on the street who got picked up by a threatening pimp---“

“He?” Jordan repeated, eyes growing wider.

“Brendon, to be exact,” I muttered as I began to trot out of the restaurant, gathering more and more eyes as I made my way to the golden doors marking the exit.

“Whoever!” Jordan yelled, anger clearly showing in his tone as he followed me relentlessly. “Emie, this is not fair! You can not leave me here like this for--for some other guy!”

A sudden rush of anger swept through me from my boyfriend’s words, and I zipped around with a deep red overpowering my facial skin. “His name is Brendon. And yes--I sure as hell can. Watch me.”

I was about to turn back around and begin the search for Brendon, when Jordan grabbed my hands with both of his and pulled me back around to face him. My glare transformed when I met his green eyes that were suddenly very close.

He was calm and pleading, stepping closer to me in the middle of that godforsaken gaudy facility. He was so close to me that I thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at me.

Then the quiet words slipped from his mouth….

“I was going to ask you to move to Los Angeles with me, Emie,” he whispered, watching me with careful eyes. “I know you don’t like it here, so I thought that if you were closer to me, you would be happier. I was going to ask you that tonight.”

My eyes had grown to their full capacity at his shocking, hypnotizing words. My thoughts crashed into one another, cheeks reddening--not at how many stares we had attracted at our little love scene--but at what was going through my beating brain.

"Do you want to come away with me?"

I didn’t want to move to L.A. My family is here--the sweetest, most caring step-brother I could ever dream of--Grey, my crazy, loving, hyperactive mom, my supporting step-dad who made my crazy mom happy--even though he wasn’t around too much. And then there was my job, which, in truth, wasn’t much, but I liked editing and it took a lot of hard work to get to where I was today. I was proud of my achievement.

And then there were all of my friends--Dan, Kiarra, Spencer, Gretel, Fran, Ryan, Brendon, and all the others I had grown up with. I could never move from Spencer, however irritating his mockery might get. I could never move from Ryan, even if he refused to solve my stupid girl problems. I could never--in my wildest of dreams--move away from Brendon, no matter how many jealous girlfriends would love for me to. I could downplay my attachment, I could act furious and ignore him for a few weeks, I could say I didn’t love the guy--but I needed him. And god did I love him.

And as my thoughts began to run together, all seemingly transforming to fix on Brendon, Jordan stared at me--his lost girlfriend falling into pieces from her overwhelmingly powerful newsflash, right in front of a crowd of very rich and awfully powerful men and women’s curious eyes.

“Emie?” he called uncertainly, stepping back to observe my vacant, hollow eyes.

The call was enough to shake me out of my trance of racing thoughts, and I immediately stated bluntly, “I have to go. I have to go right now.”

With that, I turned from Jordan, who released my hands as soon as the words left my mouth. I guess he took my words to mean the worst, but at the time, I didn’t care. I just needed to get to Brendon.

As I jogged to my car, slipping off my heels and clutching them into the safety of my hand, it didn’t occur to me that it was sprinkling rain until I was halfway to my car. The valets didn’t bother with me, and let my feminine independent moment fly to its fullest as I searched for my own car in the midst of all the high-class, glossy vehicles inhabiting the parking lot.

Once I found the familiar faded red, used Saturn, I slipped inside its tiny comfort area, starting the purring engine the second my butt hit its worn interior. I didn’t look in the mirror in worry that the drizzling of rain might have made my makeup a tad askew. I didn’t check my phone for any possibly heartbreaking missed calls from Jordan. I started that car and took off, beginning possibly the most important moment of my entire existence.