23. Dex

23

DEX

I'm in my room Monday night after grabbing a quick bite because I need to write up my portion of the group project. I can't stop thinking about the make-out session with Austin the other night. Not only because it was hot but also because it felt like more. Intimate and special, even under the guise of pretending it was the end of a date night that wasn't one at all. But somehow, phrasing it that way helped me—and likely Austin too—ignore that the vibe has shifted between us recently.

It's messing with my head because I can't seem to stop thinking about how adorable and attractive my best friend is. I'm just grateful he's not acting too awkwardly around me—other than his cheeks turning rosy across the dining hall table like he's remembering too.

And while I'm trying to give him a good dating experience, I haven't even done anything to relieve all the sexual tension left over from those nights with him. But it feels wrong to seek someone out. Which is strange, to say the least. It's like I don't want to disappoint him or let him down while we're role-playing. Austin has high standards, and yet he doesn't know how to convey to others that he's totally relationship material. He and Mom seem to have that in common.

Speaking of our date—the one that's taking place in a few days—I click out of my document and do a search for the San Luco bookstore he mentioned. Victoria Paige must be popular because even though the event is open to the public, space is limited, and I definitely don't want Austin to miss out. So I click to order a VIP ticket, which assures Austin a meet-and-greet. He's going to lose his mind when I surprise him with it.

Next, I search for her books online and download one of her romances. I figure I should understand why she has such a large following before seeing her in person. Plus, it'll win me brownie points with Austin. Except when I open the book to the first chapter and start reading, my mind wanders immediately, and I know there's no chance I'm continuing.

Just not my thing. But sweet that it's Austin's.

Friday afternoon, I head to the administration building for my student government meeting, where an argument breaks out regarding campus protests and First Amendment rights. It turns into a civic lesson from Ian, who clarifies that there is no "hate speech" exception to the First Amendment, but the consequences of it are another matter. However, explaining that to angry students who think their human rights are being violated on a state-funded campus is difficult, and I feel guilty that there are few good solutions.

"The law is the law," Ian mutters as we leave the meeting together.

"Emphasizing peaceful counterprotests was a good idea," I reply. "Got an errand to run. Catch you later."

As if to drive the point home, I pass by a lively bigoted group holding signs regarding the very topic we've just discussed.

Shaking that off, I put my earbuds in and keep walking into the San Luco town center. I should've taken my car, but nothing beats the sunshine and perfect temperature today.

I cross the street to enter Luco Flowers.

"Can I help you?" asks the woman behind the counter.

"Yeah, hi. I was here last month purchasing a poppy."

"I remember." She smiles, then motions to the back room. "We just got more in, but in a different color. Let me show you."

I wait at the counter until she reappears with a bouquet of fiery orange blossoms, and I know immediately that Austin will love them.

"I'll take half a dozen."

Once she bundles them up and carefully places the long stems in a bag, I make my way back to Poli House with just enough time to shower and change.

"There you are," Milo says as I walk through the door. "You have a visitor."

"A visitor?"

He motions to the living room, where my mother is seated, dabbing a tissue to her nose. "Mom? Is everything okay? Did something?—"

Her voice wrenches out the words, "He walked out on me!"

"Who?" I place the bag on the floor and take a seat beside her.

"Tim. We had an argument, and he said we're over."

I shut my eyes as frustration blooms in my chest. "God, Mom. Is that why you're here?"

"I can't ask for support from my child?"

"Yes, of course. I just…" I try to temper my voice. "I'm sorry he broke up with you. Maybe it was for the best."

It usually is. There's only one guy I ever thought was decent, but Mom found him boring. I often wonder if she thrives on the drama.

Thankfully, none of my housemates disturb us as she rants and cries on my shoulder for God knows how long about a guy she thought maybe she could love. My stomach is a wreck because, of course, I don't want my mom to be sad or suffer, but I also can't help feeling annoyed that all her breakups feel the same.

When the tears eventually dry up, she gets herself together.

Glancing around the room as if she's coming out of a spell, her eyes snag on the bag by my feet. "Since when do you buy flowers?" She's looking at me like I've grown two heads.

"Oh, I'm…I'm going to this book signing with Austin, and I…well, he likes flowers, so I thought…"

"Why are you stuttering like that?" She stares at me. "Are you…crushing on him?"

I rear back. "What? No. I'm just being a good friend."

She pats my leg. "You boys have always been good to each other."

When I glance at the time on my phone, I spring off the couch. "I'm running late."

"Oh no! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you." She looks stricken. "It's my fault for assuming you'd have time to spend the evening with your mother."

Well, fuck. Here comes the guilt.

"Wait, let me just…" I scroll to my last text exchange with Austin.

Mom showed up out of the blue. I'm not sure what to do.

As if for effect, Mom begins sniffling into the tissue again.

It's okay. You should spend time with her.

I hold in a growl as my fingers fly across the keys.

How about…I'll meet you there?

Maybe I can see her off in an hour.

I hold my breath as I wait for Austin to respond. Sounds good. But if it doesn't work out, that's okay too. Your mom obviously wanted to see you if she came all the way here.

She could've given me a heads-up , I think as I shove my phone into my pocket.

"Let me put some things away in my room. I'll be right back."

I take the stairs two at a time and then change my shirt and freshen up.

"Is everything okay?" Milo asks.

I sigh. "Yeah, it will be."

Mom's waiting in the foyer when I get back downstairs.

"I'm gonna meet Austin later. How about some fresh air?"

We head out the door for a trek toward the pier and end up on the beach as Mom chats about work and again about Tim. It's obvious to me that the relationship was doomed from the beginning, but I don't have the energy to try to get her to see it. Again.

"Would you mind heading to the bookstore with me?" I say when I notice the time. "It's just…I want to try and catch up with Austin before he heads inside."

"Of course!" She wears a guilty expression as I follow her toward the path. "I feel terrible for showing up like this, but I also really needed to see my son and spend time with him. I miss you."

"I miss you too." My stomach throbs, and some of my frustration drains away. "The walk on the beach was nice."

The bookstore is packed when we arrive, and I find Austin standing in a long line outside that flows around the corner.

His eyes light up. "Hey there! Nice to see you, Jodi."

They briefly embrace, and as they're pulling away, Mom says, "I'm sorry I showed up out of the blue like this. I've probably ruined everything. I always seem to."

"Mom, stop," I say just as Austin blurts out, "No, you didn't."

I mouth sorry to him over her shoulder when she digs a tissue out of her pocket.

"It's okay," Austin says. "Dex is a good listener, and he gives good advice."

"Except when you don't take it," I quip, and the sentiment is aimed at Mom more than Austin.

He chuckles and squeezes Mom's shoulder. "We're all a work in progress."

As she visibly relaxes, I realize he would've done a much better job consoling Mom. After so many years, I have little patience for it. But I'm also bummed that our date is officially ruined. Which reminds me.

I dig in my wallet and pull out the VIP ticket.

"Are you serious?" Austin asks. "When did you get this?"

"The other day. I wanted to surprise you with it."

"Thank you." His grin is so bright that I can't help smiling back. "It's definitely a surprise."

"That was so sweet of you," Mom says, kissing my cheek. "Listen, I've taken up enough of your time. Dex, you stay in line with Austin, and I'll find my way back to campus and my car."

"Mom—" I start, but she shushes me.

Before I can reason through her decision to leave, she's already at the crosswalk to trek back alone, and I feel so conflicted.

"You need to catch up to her," Austin says, nudging me. "And keep her company tonight. Man troubles or not, she's your mom."

I meet his eyes, gratitude pulsing through me that he gets it. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I'll be fine, and I have this awesome, expensive VIP pass now, so I'll be too busy to pay attention to you anyway." He winks. "I'll take a rain check on the third date."

Without thinking, I buss a kiss on his lips, and then I'm jogging across the street to catch up to Mom. I look back before I reach her, and he throws me a quick wave that makes my stomach feel all funny.

We have dinner on the pier, and though Mom protests my appearance, I can tell she wants me there. Being so close to the beach seems to help clear her head a bit. Or maybe having someone to talk to does the trick. That same guilt tries to rise up, but I tamp it down.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" I ask a few hours later when we get to her car in the visitor lot.

"I'm sure." She hugs me. "Thanks for hanging out with your mom."

"Yep. Everything will be all right, it always is, and you'll be able to move on from this Tim guy." It's the same speech I've recited for years, hoping someday it'll register.

Mom pulls away. "Don't you think I'm tired of always moving on?"

I shrug. "That's why you're a survivor."

That part is true. After Dad left us, she did her best to make it work.

She rolls her eyes. "A survivor of broken hearts?"

I wince. "Maybe I'm wrong, but the problem might actually be with your gut."

Her eyebrows knit together. "My gut?"

"Listening to it. It's not perfect, but more times than not, you recognize the red flags and ignore them." Mom averts her eyes, likely because she knows I'm right. "And I know it's because you believe in love and good intentions and all that, but there's got to come a point where you respect yourself enough to walk away."

Fresh tears begin rolling down her cheeks, and I step forward. "I'm sorry if what I said?—"

"No, everything you said is true." She swipes at her eyes with the tissue. "Instead of wondering if I'm right for them, I need to ask myself if they're right for me."

I smile. "That's the spirit."

I watch her drive off, feeling melancholy and hopeful all at once.

Back in my room, I spot the bag I abandoned earlier.

"Damn it, the flowers."

They're beginning to wilt, so I lift them out of the bag and find them some water.