You Found Me

“OH MY GOD,” Jenny squealed loudly in my ear when I told her over the phone what had happened at the wedding two days previously. “Why the fuck did you not tell me right away?!”

“Roaming charges,” I responded simply. “There was no way my father would pay for extremely expensive phone fees just so I could tell you about a boy I met.”

“You didn’t just meet him,” Jenny corrected. “You grinded with him. His penis, though behind his pants, was rubbing up against you.”

I cringed. “Gross. You make it sound so disgusting.”

“It’s not disgusting!” she argued. “Alright, I’m coming over there right now, and we’re talking about him.”

“And you still have to tell me about Darren. Did anything else happen?”

She let out a scoff. “Nothing even remotely close to the juicy gossip you have. Five minutes.” And then the line went dead.

I sighed and threw my cell phone to the other side of my bed before collapsing on it. Maybe I shouldn’t have told Jenny what happened. I kind of regretted it, in a way, since I’d acted that way with a boy I barely knew. Sure, he and I had talked the entire wedding, and we had a sort of connection that felt like we had known each other our whole lives.

Oh, shit, that was cheesy. Whatever.

Maybe that one glass of champagne was one glass too much?

Somehow, that didn’t seem like an excuse that could fly. Like, at all.

Just as I struggled to make up a reason that would make my behavior acceptable, Jenny threw open the door to my bedroom. Her face was flushed with her excitement, she wore a giant grin on her face, and she hadn’t bothered to get dressed, still in her tank top and sleeping shorts.

“Okay, details,” she demanded, sitting down on my bed, tucking one leg underneath her. “Right now. Go.”

I took a deep breath, but obliged her command, telling her absolutely everything that had happened at the wedding. She was captivated, her smile growing larger and larger with every change of subject, every new detail that we revealed to each other about ourselves.

“Holy shit!” Jenny gasped, her eyes going from dreamy to angry. “Why didn’t you give him your phone number?!”

“My dad walked in,” I hissed in a low enough voice to make sure he couldn’t hear me. “I couldn’t really do anything about it.”

“Did he say anything about it after?”

I shrugged. “He just asked me who Harry was, why he was at the wedding. And I told him. And then he said Harry seemed like a nice boy.” She started to look like she was ready to have a conniption, so I quickly followed up with, “But his reaction might have been super different if he saw me putting my number in Harry’s phone.”

“I guess,” Jenny sighed. “And this boy lives in Ireland?”

“England, I think,” I corrected. “His accent sounded English to me, anyway.”

“Mmm, even sexier,” Jenny approved. “And he’s going to be in New York City with you come fall? Seriously?! That’s incredible. Like…this is something out of a chick flick! You can’t screw this up.”

I shook my head. “Jenny, I just got out of a relationship. I don’t want a chick flick right now. Shouldn’t I, you know, wait?”

"He didn’t,” she reminded me. “And when you get a chick flick, you do not throw that chick flick away. You hear me?”

I nodded obediently. “Okay. If you say so.”

“I do. So if this boy shows up again, you’re going to turn on the Leigh charm and lure him into your clutches.”

“That sounds really evil.”

“Sometimes, in love, you have to be evil. It’s just life.”

I let out a breath. “I dunno. I guess I feel like I don’t have to charm him. I can just act like myself around him, and I’m pretty sure he was doing the same thing.”

Jenny let out a sigh of content, forcing her eyes to water a little bit. At least, I hoped she was forcing it. If she was actually getting emotional over my situation, I’d have to question her hormone levels. “Seriously, Leigh, don’t screw this up.”

I sighed and shook my head. “Okay, tell me about Darren.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you that nothing really exciting happened. You make me, and my whole life, look boring.”

“Sorry,” I snickered. “But significant or not, I want to know.”

“All that happened was that he kept asking me for pencils, and then, yesterday, I said, ‘You know, using the pencil things as a fall back is a pretty dumb excuse for talking to me.’

“And he just grinned and was like, ‘I know. But I don’t know what else to say.’

“So I was like, ‘Maybe you could start by saying why you’re in summer school.’

“And then he told me how he hates doing schoolwork, that he thinks it’s a bore, but he really has to get enough credits to graduate, which is basically the story of my life. We’re so alike!”

I laughed. “He sounds perfect. You two could procrastinate together.”

“That we could,” she agreed in a suggestive tone.

I realized how my words could be interpreted and blushed madly. “Whoops. Not what I meant.”

“Totally what I meant,” she responded.

There was a short moment of silence before she spoke again. “So do you think it’d be possible for you to ask Ariana to ask Mike to ask Niall for Harry’s number? That could work.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that,” I chuckled.

“Why not? He’s perfect for you. And he sounds like he’d be an awesome rebound.”

“I don’t want him to be a rebound,” I rushed. “And I wouldn’t do that because…I dunno. I’m not the kind to make the first move.”

“It’s not a first move! It just shows that you’re interested.”

“It seems kind of desperate to me.”

“What if he did the same to you? Would you think he was desperate? Or would you be flattered?”

“Flattered,” I admitted begrudgingly. “But that’s because…” Ugh. I was going to have to admit something embarrassing. Perfect. “That’s because that’s what I want him to do. I want to stay in his mind long enough for him to figure out that method of getting my number, only backwards. I want to feel important enough to be chased after for once.”

Once I finished rushing my explanation, I let out an awkward chuckle. “God, that’s self-centered and awful.”

“No, it’s not,” Jenny comforted. “It’s not at all. I get it. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Right,” I agreed.

Before the word was completely out of my mouth, Jenny rushed, “But I swear to God, if a week passes, and you don’t get a text or call from him, I’m initiating the contact.”

I laughed and extended my hand, my baby finger raised. “Deal.”

We hooked pinkies and shook. “And that also means that you have to tell me if he messages you in the next week.”

“Alright."