Rhythm (2 page)

“Ooohhkaayy, Rip. Calm down, will you? So,
you already dumped him? Can I date him now?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

“Really, Rip? Because he’s just so hot and
all. I think this is fate working right now—you dumping him, me
crossing paths with him, and him asking my number. This is going to
be fun.” She claps and half jumps while saying the word
fun
,
and she seems genuinely excited.

What have I done? I don’t think I can stomach
being the third wheel in their love story. I cannot watch Grant do
things that he’s supposed to be doing to and for me. How am I
supposed to act when they have a date? Aw, heck. I am doomed.

“Yes, Lola. I am sure.” I try to sound
excited for her, but I can’t.

If only I can replay the past three hours, I
will do things differently. I will not say no to him, at least not
yet. I will prolong whatever it is that we have. I will . . . I
will . . .

Now, it’s too late. I cannot break my best
friend’s heart. She’s all puppy-eyed talking about Grant, and I
won’t be the one to ruin that.

“Thanks, Rip. You are the best! Anyway, we’re
planning on going out tonight. He’ll bring a friend and I’ll bring
you, it’s kind of like a double date. Are you in?”

“In,” I answer faster than expected. This is
my chance to see him after the
incident
, and I want to know
if he’s hurt even a bit or if he has moved on totally within the
short span of time. I am getting giddy with what I have agreed to
do, and I can’t help but wonder what should I wear.

“Where will we go later? Is it just dinner,
or we’ll go watch a movie?”

“Both.” Her smile is wide. It is so wide it’s
as if her face will be torn in two. I don’t like it. I like her to
be happy, except that I’m not comfortable with the source of her
happiness. Bitter much? Uh-huh.

I have to tame myself. It’s not Lola’s fault
that I said no to Grant. It is not her fault if Grant is a
philanderer. I have to be happy for her.

“Be ready by 7, okay? I’ll just meet Grant
outside. He’s waiting for me.” With a wink and a wave of a hand,
she leaves.

Lola, Lola, Lola . . . have you been waiting
all this time for this opportunity?

I have not pegged her as someone who wants to
be a rebound girl. I thought very highly of her. Maybe that’s the
magic of Grant Peterson—he has the power to convert you into
something you are not.

---

I can’t believe what I am about to do. I’ve
never been on a date before, not even with Grant. Seeing his truck
parked outside of this shabby restaurant, I doubt my decision to go
on a double date. What will he think of me? In less than twelve
hours, I told him I wouldn’t be ready for any romantic relationship
right now and for the next five years or so, but at this very
moment, here I am, behaving in a way that screams the exact
opposite of not ready. I am not even the type of person who will go
out, with or without a date. Granted, I do go out when needed like
when I have to go grocery shopping, but you will never see me in a
movie house, mall, restaurant, parlor—the places a normal girl
would go to.

I let out a heavy breath and compose
myself.

“Rip, are you ready? Shall we go inside?”
Lola has been acting weird since we left the dorm. Maybe she’s as
nervous as I am, but unlike me, she has more experience in dealing
with men. I never saw her with a boyfriend, but she has a lot of
suitors that she is more than happy to entertain. Today, the lucky
suitor would be Grant.
My
Grant.
Sheesh, Rhythm. Get
ahold of yourself. He’s not yours. You said NO to him.
Of
course, of course.

“Yeah, let’s do this. C’mon.”

“That’s my girl. You behave, okay?” She leads
the way with her killer smile. She’s wearing ripped skinny jeans,
moss green halter top, and her oh-so-amazing black Valentino rock
stud ballerina flats. Maybe she did that on purpose—wear flats so
that she will appear much smaller than Grant. She has a thing with
men being way taller than her, although there are times she finds
it difficult because most of her suitors are only three inches
taller than her.

I see Grant, fidgeting in his seat, still
unaware that I am here. Does he even know that Lola will bring me?
I look at her, but she’s making her way to the table that has a
spectacular view of sunset. The beauty of God’s creation floors me.
This is be-au-ti-ful.

“Hi, beautiful.”

I jump. I am startled by Grant’s voice. Why
does he call me that? I glance at Lola to check if she hears it.
Thankfully, her attention is on Grant’s friend.

“Hi, Grant,” I say casually.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Lola
breaks it. “So . . . let’s get settled then order, shall we?”

This. Is. Awkward.

Grant and I stumble, and everything that
happens next come in a flash . . . Lola grabs Grant’s hand, Grant’s
eyebrows meet in confusion—a shadow of panic appears in his
face—Lola smiles and whispers something to him, he redeems himself
and bellows.

Now, I’m the one who’s bemused.

With a shrug but without a choice, I sit
beside my should-be-date, in front of Grant and go stiff.

Why am I here again?

“Oh, I almost forget. Rip, this is Grant’s
friend, Cale. Cale, this is my best friend, Rip.”

“Hi, Ri—”

“Rhythm,” I cut him off. “My name is Rhythm.”
I take his hand and shake it. “Nice meeting you, Cale.”

Grant coughs, though it comes out as if he’s
choking. “Rhy, what’s up?”

If Grant is not flirting with me and he’s
serious about something, he calls me Rhy. Why is he being serious
with me now? Oh, yes, I know. Lola is here whom he is now courting.
I don’t know what to say to him, so I just give him a courteous
smile.

“K, is everyone ready to order?” Lola asks
and signals for the waiter.

I order salad not because I’m on a diet
(which I do not have to do, really) but because I don’t feel
hungry.

The whole dinner goes by without any
incident, thankfully. Most of the time, Lola fills the silence by
talking about her day or asking how our days have gone by without
touching the sensitive topic. Lola finishes her dessert, asks for
the bill—which Grant pays for—and stands up. She tells us that
she’ll just go to the washroom, then Cale does the same. That
leaves Grant and me.

Great. Just. Great.

I wait for him to initiate a conversation, to
tell me something, anything, but he just stays in his seat
silently; giving me looks I cannot quite comprehend. I give him a
silent treatment because I don’t know how to talk with him after
what I’ve said to him—after I said no to him.

Lola walks toward us, Cale behind her. “Let’s
go watch the movie.” She doesn’t bother to sit and just waits for
us to stand.

When we arrive at the movie house, Lola tells
us to go ahead because she’ll just go to the washroom.

Again? Is she sick?

Cale, on the other hand, says he’ll just call
someone and that, indeed, we should go ahead.

With a queasy feeling, I comply and lead the
way.

Grant and I find our seat, and we sit without
saying a word to each other.

Just a minute before the movie starts,
someone approaches us and hands me a small paper. She explains that
someone asked a favor from her to give it to us. Without waiting
for our reaction, she leaves.

I open it and see the legible handwriting of
my best friend.

Rip, I felt sick. I asked Cale if
he can bring me home and he agreed, so I went back to our dorm with
him. Do not overthink. Just stay with Grant. Relax. Enjoy the
movie. ;) xo, L

Maybe I appear like someone who received a
news that someone died because Grant asks a little too loud, “Rhy,
are you okay? What happened? What’s written in that?” He doesn’t
wait for my answer; he takes the paper from my shaking hand.

I hear a silent, “Oh,” from him while giving
it back to me. “Do you want to go home, too?”

I want to say yes because that would be the
smart thing to say. Right? Instead, I say, “No, I’ll stay.”

“Okay.”

With that, the opening credits flash in the
screen. Just in time.

We watch the movie in complete silence, our
focus not leaving the screen—just how I like it to be.

Wiping my tear, I surprise myself by
initiating a conversation with him. “It’s sad, but I like the
story. Makes me appreciate life more.”

“Yes. It makes me want to do things I really
want but I’m afraid to do.”

“Like what?”

“Bungee jumping. I have fear of heights, but
I want to experience how to fly or something.”

“Huh,” is all I can say. I don’t want to let
him think that this can be a regular thing for us to do . . . to
talk about dreams, life, bucket lists.

I stand and he catches the meaning of my
action: This is the end of our conversation.

When we are walking towards his car, he’s not
able to control himself.

“Rhy, about what you said a while ago in the
campus . . . is . . . is it final? I mean, I don’t want to appear
so eager—even if I honestly am eager, but I’ll say this anyway. I
like to accept and respect your decision, but I just can’t. I feel
that we will be a great team, a great couple. Don’t you see it even
a bit? After watching the movie, I know that I need to tell you
this. I don’t want to regret anything, so I need to ask you one
more chance. Please, Rhy, let me prove my worth. One week. Just
give me one more week. After that, just tell me if you really can’t
be with me. I will be more than willing to leave you alone if I
can’t prove anything to you. Please . . .” He’s out of breath, has
pleading eyes, and has a hopeful tone.

I, on the other hand, am quite confused. I
thought he has moved on by courting Lola. Didn’t he get her number
just after I dumped him?
Her number.
Realization hits me
like I’ve been poured a bucket of ice. Why would Grant ask her
number when he doesn’t even have a cell phone? Maybe he has
now?

“Do you have a cell phone?” I ask him,
straight-faced.

“None. You know how much I appreciate being
low-tech.” By the gaze he’s giving me, I know what he’s thinking.
He just poured his heart out and my initial response was, “Do you
have a cell phone?” Perfect.

Now I get it what this is all about, why this
supposed to be ‘double date’ is not a double date. Lola set it
up.

You’re in trouble, L. Wait for me.

I’m gritting my teeth without knowing it. How
could she do this to me?

“Rhy, you just zoned out. Is everything
okay?”

“Yes. Yes. Let’s go home.”

“How about my chance? Will you give it to
me?”

There’s no harm in giving him one more week,
I convince myself, and so I agree. “One week then it’s final.”

He displays his toothpaste commercial worthy
teeth. “Thank you, butterfly.”

I shrug, though I really want to grin like a
Cheshire cat because I realize that I love it when he calls me
different names, but I have to play safe until I am sure if I want
him in or out of my life.

He opens the door of the passenger’s seat and
lets me in. He waits for me to settle, then he closes the door. He
half walks-half runs until he reaches his side. He can’t contain
his smile, and it becomes contagious. He sees me smiling and asks,
“Why, my lady, are you smiling? Do you find my eagerness
amusing?”

“Honestly, I do, though I don’t know how I
earned your eagerness. I barely give you the time of day. I barely
give you the reason to stick around. I barely give you anything at
all for you to even like me. Why, Grant? Why me?” I can’t stop
myself from asking the million-dollar question, which bugs me every
single time he does something for me.

“You don’t see yourself as I see you, Rhy.
You don’t see that you are beautiful, that—”

“Grant, seriously.”

“Rhy, will you please listen to me? You. Are.
Beautiful. You just don’t see it—yet, but I am more than willing to
tell it to you everyday, to remind you how beautiful you are so
that you won’t forget it.”

“That’s it? You are attracted to me just
because of my physical appearance? How about if I grow old and have
gray hairs and many wrinkles? Or if I gain weight and become thrice
as much as my weight now? Will you still like me?”

“You’ve misunderstood me, Rhy. I am not just
attracted to you. I don’t just like you. I am in love with you.
About getting old and fat, don’t you worry, my love. You’ll do
fine.”

“But what if?”

“I will always love you, Rhy. Always. Words
wouldn’t be enough to tell you how much I love you, so I’m going to
show you. Please, let me show you.”

And what would be the best answer to that?
Gape like crazy.

“Okay. Thank you, Grant, for . . .
everything, every word you said. They mean a lot.”

“You’re welcome, sugar.” He winks and turns
the radio on, allowing me to dive into my thoughts and drown with
it.

---

“How could you do that to me?”

“How could I do
what
to you?” Lola
feigns innocence.

Way to go, L. Way to go.

When I don’t answer, she diverts my attention
by changing the topic. “How’s the movie?”

“Fine.”

“Rip, c’mon. Movies are never fine with you,
either it’s badass or trash.”

“Whatevs, L. I’m not talking to you.”

“But you are talking to me.”

I have to let her know that she is in trouble
for setting me up, for taking advantage of my emotional state. I’ll
let her conscience eat her, then I’ll forgive her because let’s
face it—if not for what she did, Grant and I wouldn’t have this
chance. I wouldn’t have the courage to give whatever we have the
opportunity to blossom.

I must admit though, Ms. Jealousy is someone
who also pushed me to give Grant one more week. When I saw Grant
and Lola, I felt a sharp pang twisting inside of me—it’s not a
pretty feeling, I tell you—but I told myself a long time ago that
love is not jealous, so I better remind myself once in a while.