Emotional Ping Pong

 

When Friday rolled around, work was unusually quiet. This did nothing to help calm my nerves about what was to come in roughly 12 hours. 

I had plans to meet Dylan for drinks that night after his work dinner, but the thought of also potentially seeing Nick plagued me with equal parts dread and nervous anticipation. How was it that I continued to find myself in a weird ping-pong between Dylan and Nick, even when I haven't been able to call either of them mine in so many months. 

After Ash had told me on Wednesday that Nick was coming, I'd laid in bed contemplating if I should text him or not. Emboldened by the wine I had drank, I opened up a text to him. The last words were the "I miss you" text I had sent so many days ago, that still remained unanswered. Not wanting to risk being ignored again, I closed out of the message and had gone to sleep. 

As the work day dragged on, I busied myself putting together a new paid social plan for our upcoming home decor launch. At the very least, I would get brownie points with my boss for getting a jumpstart on something that wasn't due for a few weeks. 

When the clock miraculously showed 5:30 p.m., I packed up my things eager to get to drybar before my 6:00 appointment. I waved goodbye to Emma and hustled out, trying not to feel guilty for leaving so early when most of my team was still typing away on their Macs. 

The air was still relatively warm for October, so I walked the mile to the salon. After showing my stylist photos of the look I was after (soft waves, nothing trying too hard - I didn't want Dylan noticing I had put in that much effort), I relaxed into the heavenly head massage that accompanied the shampoo job. 

When I got home, glossy-haired and carrying takeout sushi for me and Ash to split, I was disappointed to see the apartment still dark. I glanced at the clock on my phone - it was past 7:30, where was she? I shot her a quick text and put the sushi in the fridge. 

Where are you? I brought your favorite sushi home to bribe you to talk me down when I inevitably have a panic attack later before seeing Dylan. 

Her reply came instantly after. 

Sorry! Out with a few people, might not be back until later. Good luck though! xo

Her vague reference to "a few people" alerted me to the fact that she was almost certainly with Nick. Ignoring the hammering in my chest at the thought of him potentially just a few blocks away, I sat down to enjoy the salmon and avocado roll, sweet potato roll and edamame solo. 

After dinner, I spent the next hour getting ready so that I'd be able to leave as soon as Dylan wrapped up dinner. I wrestled with my closet, settling on a black sleeveless bodysuit, jeans and heels. I layered on a few gold necklaces, and left my recently-done hair long and loose. To pass the time, I poured myself a glass of wine and decided to text Ash for a few more details. Sitting at home alone was doing nothing good for my anxiety. 

So, does "a few people" include Nick? I'm bored waiting for Dylan to finish dinner. 

I felt a little desperate texting my own best friend asking to be invited, but she quickly responded.

It does... he asked where you were, I said work. I figured you wouldn't want to see him, but if you are up for it, come meet us! We're at Up & Up! 

I sat on the idea for the second half of my glass of wine. Did I really want to subject myself to two exes in one night? As much as the more self-destructive half of me wanted to see Nick, hug him, know he was still the Nick I knew and loved - instead of the one the country did - I knew it was a bad move. 

I think i'll keep my self-destructive behaviors to a minimum tonight, but thank you. Have fun! 

I place my phone back down on the kitchen counter with a sigh. After twenty more minutes of Instagram scrolling, pacing, and fixing my already fine makeup, my phone finally lit up with a text from Dylan. 

Hey you, dinner is winding down. We're actually near your place, let me know where you want to meet.

Is it wrong that my first thought was to invite him over? I nearly began typing it, but deleted the offer knowing exactly where it would lead. 

Ok, meet me at Hudson Hound in 20? 

I scrambled back into my room to grab a jacket and one last coat of lip stain. Grabbing my newest splurge, a Gucci shoulder bag that was a month's rent (I reasoned it would last me for years and years), I stepped out into the cooling night air. 

As I approached the bar, my hands were shaking - a telltale sign that Dylan was nearby. I swung open the door and spotted him instantly. He was still in work clothes, his shirt unbuttoned slightly and his hair less perfect than it had been that morning. He looked like if Noah Centieno had decided corporate America was more his thing than acting. Just then, his gaze moved from his phone to the door, and he broke out into the most melt-your-knees smile. He enveloped me in a hug, kissing the top of my head. 

"Hey you." 

"Hi," I replied weakly with a small smile. The chemistry was still there, even in such a short exchange. 

We settled into stools next to each other at the bar and ordered our drinks. I swiveled to face him, my knees knocking clumsily into his. 

"How was your work dinner?" I asked, taking an appreciative sip of my vodka tonic. 

"The usual, schmoozing clients, boss showing off by ordering the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu, lots of small talk." 

"Sounds riveting," I said with a smile. 

"Oh yes, but it was worth sitting through to see you," he said. Wow, we're just really putting it all out there, aren't we?

I wasn't sure what to say back, so I smiled and took a sip of my drink. The next hour passed with us catching up on everything - mutual friends, work, and his recent vacation to Montana. 

"I have always wanted to go there and stay on a dude ranch," I said wistfully. 

"Well, lucky for you I am now basically a Montananian so I can show you around." he winked. 

"That's literally not even a word," I said with a laugh. 

We ordered another round, and as I was mentally weighing whether or not I wanted to invite him home with me, the sound of my phone ringing cut through my thoughts. 

"Sorry," I said, reaching into my bag to stop the noise. I noticed it was Ashley and gave Dylan an apologetic look. 

"Hey," I said into the iPhone. 

"Heyyyy," Ashley's voice came, clearly laced with alcohol. "Listen we're kind of bar hopping so I wanted to see where you are so we can avoid." Awkward.

"Uh, okay, we're at Hudson Hound," I replied, giving Dylan a small smile. 

"Okay! Be good! Bye!" she said, and the line went dead. 

"Sorry," I said again to Dylan. "Ashley is a little drunk." 

He laughed "Some things never change. Is she coming here?"

"No, I think she's bar hopping and was just curious." I heard myself lie. 

He nodded, just as the bartender deposited two fresh drinks in front of us. 

"So when do you go back to Philly?" I asked, sipping the new drink. I could feel my insides warming, and I scooted ever so slightly closer to Dylan. If he minded, he certainly didn't show it. 

"Sunday afternoon, we have another dinner tomorrow night, then a breakfast Sunday." 

"That's a lot of schmoozing," I replied. 

"Tell me about it. I'm free most of the day tomorrow though," he said suggestively. 

"Oh are you now?" I replied with a smirk. 

"Yes, plenty of time to sleep in..." he trailed off. I punched him in the shoulder, but instantly knew that he was going to end up in my bed. 

Suddenly, my imperfect thoughts were interrupted by the loud noise of drunk people stumbling in the front door of the bar. I turned on my stool, only to see Ashley, Trevor, a few people I didn't recognize and then... Nick. 

Hello, it's me.

*** I just binge-read my old posts and miss this so much. If anyone is still out there and subscribed, comment below! And if you need a fun plan for the weekend, might I suggest binge-reading from 2014?***

November 23

See you then :)

Been MIA...

But if I start to write again... will you all come back?

<3 

An Ordinary Wednesday

It started off as an ordinary Wednesday. 

Work had been hectic, but I'd be fortunate enough to escape by 7:00. The crazy, stressful days were always my least favorite as they were happening. At Platform, I was used to turning to my peers to hash out problem solving when it was needed. But at Arabella if there was a problem, I was finding more and more that people would turn to me for the solution. I never wanted to run to my boss for help so I was constantly finding myself pulling my own hair out over a solution. Alas, once it was resolved I always found myself feeling giddy and proud, a fulfilling day. That is the biggest difference between Arabella and Platform - the sense of fulfillment and challenge I felt each day. I loved it.

Yet even though I loved it, it didn't stop me from grabbing a bottle of wine on the way home. 

As I unlocked the door to my apartment, I was overjoyed to find Ash in the kitchen stirring something that smelled heavenly. 

"Hey!" I greeted her, dropping my gym bag from the morning on the floor of the living room.

"Hello hello!" she replied, reaching for a spice and adding it to the pot.

"What are you making?"

"Stuffed Pepper Soup," she replied, adding a hefty amount of hot sauce.

"Yum," I said, peering into the reddish-brown, bubbling soup. 

"I have rice on too to put it over, it's kind of thick. But I made enough for an army so I hope you're hungry!"

"Always," I replied, placing the wine on the counter. "I brought the beverage."

She rolled her eyes. "We have like, ten bottles over there," she laughed, tilting her head toward our full wine rack.

"Yes," I said, reaching for the wine opener and getting to work. "But this is my favorite." 

"Is there a celebration?" she asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically at me.

"No," I replied, keeping my eyes fixated on the wine.

"What did you do," Ash asked, knowing me all too well.

"Nothing!" I defended.

"Oh my god did you... that married guy?! DANIELLE."

"No! Jesus!" I nearly yelled. "First off, I'm no home wrecker. Secondly, I met his wife remember? I won't go there. Thirdly, you'd have known the second it happened." 

"Then what?"

"Why do you assume it's something with men? Maybe I got a promotion?"

"That would be a promotion world record."

"Rude," I said, although I was smiling. "No, I just had a long day."

"And?"

I let out a deep breath. She knew me too well. "Okay. And... Dylan is coming to town this weekend."

She dropped the wooden spoon she'd been holding dramatically to the counter.

"Excuse me?"

I didn't answer.

"Dani!" she followed up.

"I didn't invite him! He's coming for work. But after that Philly weekend I don't know... I'm kind of excited."

She let this sit for a while. She had never made a firm standpoint on Dylan, but I doubted she wanted me to actually get back together with him. "Okay," she said, after a solid 30 seconds.

"Okay, what?" 

"Okay... I mean, okay. You didn't invite him, but obviously you want to see him which is normal."

"Yes," I said.  

"But, maybe it's not the best timing," she said quietly, not meeting my eye.

"...Why?" I asked, drawing out my response.

"Well, you see, someone - a mutual friend of ours - let me know they were going to be in town this weekend," her eyes remained fixated on the soup.

"Who?" I knew the answer, there is no other reason she'd act this weird. My stomach began its slow decent to my feet.

"Nick," she said. "He's home for a few days starting tomorrow."

"Why are you just telling me now?" I demanded, feeling my nervousness be replaced by a slow anger at my best friend.

"I just found out last night! And I didn't want to just text you." 

"Why didn't he tell me?" I said, raising my voice again. "I've texted him and he's ignored me!"

"I don't know!" she said. "I'm sorry, look, I know he wants you to know. Maybe he just felt weird since you two haven't talked in a while." 

I was fuming. I knew I was actually mad at Nick but Ashley was the one standing in front of me, much easier to take my anger out on. "Well you can see Nick, I already made plans with Dylan."

I stood up, taking my glass of wine and sitting down defiantly at the couch. I turned on a Modern Family marathon and tried my hardest to ignore Ash.

"Do you not want dinner then?" She asked me a few minutes later, an amused tone hovering behind her voice. 

"Nope," I said, taking a long sip of the wine. "I'm satisfied with my grapes."

I heard her sit down at the kitchen island to eat dinner, and turned my attention to my phone. 

Can't wait to see you I texted to Dylan. The mixture of Nick's impending presence and wine making me bold.

Me neither - it'll be like old times. 

Your call

Hi there,

I can totally get your frustration with there being no post last Friday. However, I'm not sure how that justifies a few of the ridiculously out of line comments that were left.

This is done in my personal time, for free. I didn't post Friday because I didn't want to half-ass it, and I was bone tired after a really long week. I have a great idea of where I want Dani's story to go, but I don't want to get berated when my own life gets in the way of an update. I don't want to post something just because I have to, I only want to post it when it's good.

You guys were used to depending on me that first year because my job was way less demanding, and I had more time to focus on this blog. Now, my job is a huge focus of mine, and I don't have as much time to devote to this blog. That doesn't mean I want or intend to stop posting though. If you'll stick with me, and read when I post (which I can promise will be regular, but maybe not every week at the same time for now), then I want to stick with it too. 

Your call.

His Real Life Wifey

** hi all! question - todays post is a bit short, but I'll post again Friday to make up for it. What do you prefer, one longer post on Wednesdays or two shorter installments on Weds & Fri? This week will be Weds & Fri, but I'll defer to your preference going forward! I have exciting plans coming up, so stay tuned :) **

I sat in the SEO training on Wednesday afternoon, willing my eyelids to stop fluttering closed. Our in-house specialist was trying to train ten of us how to optimize our blog and web content and I was running seriously low on caffeine. 

"Now," Diana, the presenter, continued, "Google Keyword is another tool that you'll come to rely on, especially when deciding on meta descriptions for each page. First, you go to.." I drowned out her monotonous speech and instead turned my interest to the flashing IM popping up on my computer screen.

Emma: Happy hour?
Danielle: Yes, free me from this meeting first! 
Emma: And how do you propose I do that?
Danielle: Fire alarm?
Emma: Ha, meet us at Ardesia when you're out

She signed off before I could ask who "us" was, and my mind flicked to Jon. We hadn't spoken, let alone even seen each other in passing, since the drunken texts. 

Thirty minutes later, Diana folded her hands in front of her with a satisfied smile on her face. Poor thing, she had no clue that hardly anyone had taken a single note. I tried not to bolt too eagerly toward the door, but I had at least another hour of work to wrap up before joining Emma and "us" at happy hour.

Forty minutes later, I was sending my last email of the day. I mentally crossed my fingers that the contract I had just sent to one of our most expensive bloggers had every i dotted and t crossed, but I was too impatient to sit at my desk any longer. Most of the office had gone home and the large windows overlooking a slowly retiring Manhattan had grown dark.

I welcomed the sticky breeze that pushed back my wavy hair as I left Arabella's offices a few minutes later. I was in black slim overalls paired with a long sleeved white crop top, and pointy heels. Not the best happy hour outfit, but I didn't have time to go all the way downtown to change. I started walking the few blocks back to my old hood, while skimming my Instagram feed. I stopped short when I saw a photo of Nick appear in my feed, posted by E!. He was looking devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored suit, his blonde scruff sprinkling sexily across his jawline. He was on the carpet of one premiere or another, his arm slung comfortably around the waist of an equally devastatingly gorgeous red head.

"Aye, bitch watch where you're going!" a grumpy, potbellied man yelled at me. Oh, the charm of New Yorkers. 

I snapped out of my daze, and quickly clicked my phone off. I really needed some social media filter that caught any and all "Nick" mentions bef ore they made their way to my impressionable eyes.

Between my two poisonous exes and the very married Jon, my love life was looking both bleak and explosive at the same time.

I finally arrived at the bar and swung open the heavy door. I was immediately hit with a warm wave of voices, clinking glasses and the mouthwatering scent of tapas. I scanned the crowded bar for Emma's blonde head, eventually spotting her in the back corner with a few of our coworkers. I weaved my way through the throngs, gripping her elbow as I got close.

"Hey!" I said loudly, trying to project my voice over the din of voices. 

"Dani!" she squealed in response, with more enthusiasm than usual. She was definitely a few drinks in.

"Here!" another coworker, Ryan, said handing me a shot glass. I downed it, cringing at the plain vodka flavor. He grinned at my reaction, "You've gotta catch up!" He handed me another shot.

"No way," I said, making a face and waving my hands. 

"Yep, you'll need it," he said, pushing the shot towards me again.

"And whys that?" I said with a flirtatious smile. Ryan was very much into men, so I enjoyed knowing I could be as over the line as I wanted with him.

"Your office hubby brought his real life wifey," he said. It took a minute for this to sink in. No one knew I had any feelings for Jon, at least, no one except Ashley. 

"Who?" I asked, trying to act nonchalant. 

Before he could answer, I saw Jon heading toward our group. A small, gorgeous blonde was on his arm. 

"Okay fine give me that shot," I said, downing it in record time. This was going to be interesting.

Morning After

My mouth felt like the Sahara. I felt my head pounding before I could even register the fact that I was hungover.

"Meeughhh," I let out a pathetic groan and, using all of my strength, rolled myself over. My right arm flopped onto a solid body next to me. Fatigued by my hangover, I couldn't even manage a panicked reaction. Slowly, I peeled my mascara-clad eyes open. I knew that exposed brick wall.. and I really knew that bare, bronzed, god-help-me man's chest breathing slowly that my wrist was resting on.

I slowly removed my arm, not wanting to interrupt Dylan's rhythmic breathing. It wasn't lost on me that the first time we had woken up in bed together had been after a blacked-out evening, too. 

I remembered Kara coming in the karaoke bar the night before. I remembered turning to vodka in order to not act on all of the jealous feelings that had been stirring. I remembered Kara staying within 6 inches of Dylan at all times, as if his proximity was the only thing that mattered. I remembered leaving with Laura and some girlfriends, going to a close-by dive bar and doing tequila shots. I remembered Dylan walking in after we had been there for a while, looking angry. And then...nothing. 

I took inventory and was relieved to find that my clothes were still on, even if my crop top had weaseled its way up above my boobs in my sleep. Luckily I had a lace bra on, which was covering most of me. I sat still, staring at the familiar ceiling for another ten minutes before my thirst beat out my desire to postpone the awkwardness.

I was, unfortunately, on the inside of the bed. Which meant my only possible escape routes were either over Dylan's body, or out the foot of the bed. I chose the latter. Peeling myself out from under the warm comforter, I tried to gingerly crawl toward the end of the bed. I was six inches shy of freedom when...

"What, exactly, are you doing?" I heard his amused and raspy voice come from behind me. 

I folded my legs under me and flopped back onto the pillow. "I was in search of water, and I didn't want to wake you up," I said, keeping my face turned away from his. My morning breath was bound to be deadly.

"And you decided the best way to do that was to 007 yourself toward the foot of the bed?" I could hear his smile. My body was dying to rip off my clothes and curl up next to him. It was the weirdest sensation, fighting my brain against my body. My body was telling me: This is Dylan's bed, you should most likely be naked and seducing him right now. But my head, my head was who I had to listen to. 

"I'm not exactly at my peak decision-making capacity right now," I said. "Clearly."

He rolled over to his nightstand and miraculously presented a bottle of water. I lunged at it, chugging half of the bottle in one gulp.

"Thank you," I managed, wiping at my mouth. He took a few sips before placing it back on the nightstand. 

I remained upright, stiff and uncomfortable. "So, last night..." 

"Last night," he said, offering nothing further.

"Look I was really, really drunk to be completely honest, I don't really remember much about coming here. So I'm sorry if I was ridiculous, or came onto you or anything. I know Kara is probably not happy about this, and I'll head out right now but-" I stopped talking, because he was looking at me with a shit-eating grin. 

"What?" I demanded.

"I'm not dating Kara," he said, as if this was so apparent. "I'm sorry that you thought that, but I can promise you, I'm not."

I gave him a skeptical glare. "She kissed you on the mouth by way of greeting. Apologies if that threw me off."

He rolled his eyes. "She knew you would be there."

"That doesn't explain it," I replied. "But whatever, you don't need to explain yourself to me anymore." 

With that, I slid down the bed and stood up, searching for my bag. 

"Dani, relax," he said. I was about to reply with a sharp remark before he spoke again. "Look nothing happened last night, which I'm sure you know already anyway. You were drunk and Laura had already left, so I told you you could sleep at my place. I offered to stay on the couch but you said, and I quote 'Oh, don't be such a prude. This isn't 1940.', so I slept in the bed. That's all that happened, you seemed preoccupied by your phone all night for the most part."

Oh, shit. What the hell happened on my phone? This is why I don't drink this way anymore.

"Okay,"  I said, relaxing out of my defensive state. "I should be going though."

He swung his legs out of bed, wearing only a pair of old football shorts. Either I had misremebered his body in an attempt to get over him, or he had gotten way, way more chiseled. I tried not to stare. 

"Let me take you to your car," he said, digging in his closet for a shirt. A wave of disappointment washed over me as he slid the plain white tshirt over his body.

"I can take an Uber," I said. "Just as soon as I find my phone."

"Under the bed," he said. "You kicked it there last night."

"Charming," I said, rolling my eyes at my drunken self. I bent over and sure enough, my crossbody bag was slumped underneath his bed. I pulled it out and pressed the round button on my iPhone. I had a text from Jon at 3:44. Good. God. What had I done. Instead of checking it, I shoved the phone deep back into the bag.

"Fine," I said.

"Fine what?" he replied. I could see him biting his cheek to keep from smiling. If he found hungover, defiant me amusing, so be it. 

"I'll let you drive me," I said, raking a hand through my knotty hair. 

"How kind of you Ms. Fitzgerald," he said, giving me a mock bow. I rolled my eyes again and headed toward his bathroom in search of Listerine. 

Ten minutes later, after I had done the best patch job I could on my appearance using only mouth wash and the meager contents of my purse, we were heading towards Laura's and my since-abandoned car. We were quiet during the one-mile trip, and in just minutes he had pulled up behind my sedan. 

"Thanks," I said, digging for my keys.

"It was really, really good seeing you Dani," he said. I could hear the emotion in his voice. 

I raised my gaze to his, feeling the stomach flip that always accompanied a glance at those blue eyes. "I know, it was great to see you too," I replied. His hand reached over and rested on my shoulder, before moving up my neck into my hair. My entire body was tingling, yet he wasn't leaning in to kiss me. His thumb traced the outline of my ear, and I involuntarily bit my lip. I could feel my heart throwing itself against my rib cage. The kid still had it.

He removed his hand, and I watched it retreat back to his lap. It took everything in me not to lunge across the passenger seat and kiss him. Instead, I turned away and reached for the door handle.

"D?" he said, and I turned back to face him, leaving one hand on the door handle. 

"I...I've really missed you." 

I took a deep, audible breath. "I know, me too," I managed. The lust for him I had felt just moments ago was replaced by a sad, longing feeling for who had once been my best friend. I gave him a half smile, not trusting myself to say anything else, and got out of the car. 

Instead of going into Laura's to say a proper goodbye, I decided to just get in my car and head home. My hangover and sense of confusion over Dylan was too much to handle right now. I slid into my car, and leaned back against the seat. Finding the courage to pull my phone out, I slid open the text from Jon. I quickly scrolled up, reading the entire conversation, relieved that he had started it.

Jon 12:34 AM
Hey you, I'm on in the LES with some friends, you around?

Danielle 12:48 AM
Not unless you could Philly as around! 

Jon 12:51 AM
Hmm.. 90 or so miles, not too far.

Danielle 12:53 AM
Haha, yeah, here for a friend's birthday. Who are you out with?

Jon 12:59 AM
Just a few buddies from college.

Danielle 1:04 AM
The wife?

Jon 1:06 AM
No, no wife 

Danielle 1:08 AM
Well, enjoy your evening

Jon 1:10 AM
It'd be a lot more entertaining if you were here

Danielle 1:17 AM 
You can't say things like that, not to me.

Jon 1:28 AM
I meant as friends, sheesh.

Jon 3:44 AM
Okay, maybe not just as friends.

Aside from the wife comment, I was fairly proud of myself for not being totally embarrassing. I decided not answering was probably the best policy, and tucked my phone back into my bag. This weekend had turned out to be a hell of a lot more eventful than I had bargained for.