chapter five

we get each other; we get along.

A/N Sorry for the delay. I got a little dispassionate about CEG but the recent Greg recasting has reinvigorated me. So… Here you go!

Greg's phone bursts to life wildly in the middle of the night, nearly giving him a heart attack.

He fumbles in the dark before he finds his cell phone on the nightstand. He squints at the screen - it's a 'Words with Friends' alert: Rebecca Bunch has started a new game.

Wow… she doesn't waste any time.

He blinks away the groggy sleep from his eyes, trying to protect his retinas - which are currently being burned out of his eyeballs by the blinding light of his phone screen.

Greg considers clicking the screen back to black and rolling over to snooze for a few more hours. But first, he looks at the time - 3:47 am. Pretty late (or early, rather) to be starting a new game. She must be… thinking about him?

He taps on the app.

Rebecca has played the word Ephemeral.

He is ashamed to say, he has to google it. He knows he has heard this word at some point in his lifetime, but never actually used in a sentence.

He clumsily mistypes it into the google search bar of his internet browser: "wphemerl."

Google is smug and quickly corrects him: Did you mean ephemeral?

e·phem·er·al
əˈfem(ə)rəl
adjective
1. lasting for a very short time.

He doesn't read into it.

It's just a random chance that her assortment of letters would make such an ominous word - that happens to land on Double word space, giving her 36 points right off the bat. He glances at his own letters, most of which are unusable (I mean, who needs two "Qs" and a "Z?")

And as much as he wants to dazzle her with his intellect… he's half-asleep and too groggy for all this thinking. So he lazily begins to play the word, 'egg.' - although, he's not proud of it.

But before he places the second "G", he scans his letters one more time, and decides upon "epoch," for 26 points, instead.

ep·och

ˈepək/

noun

1. a period of time in history or a person's life, typically one marked by notable events or particular characteristics.

Yeah… that seems... about right.

"So. I, uh…"

The syllables dance on the tip of Greg's tongue as he contemplates whether or not to tell Josh about his encounter with Rebecca the day before. His eyes tentatively flash up to his friend sitting across from him in the booth at Home Base.

"What's up?" Josh asks distantly, only half-paying attention as he fiddles with his phone - probably taking a picture of his chili-cheese fries for Instagram or something dumb.

Hashtag #lame.

Greg never had an Instagram, never saw the appeal. But Josh has always been social-media savvy, so he's used to his friend's attention wavering in and out while he lets the entire world know his whereabouts.

"I saw Rebecca yesterday," Greg blurts out quickly - it feels a lot like ripping off a band-aid.

Bingo, Bango, done.

That seems to get Josh's attention.

His stare flickers up from his phone screen, his expression unreadable.

"Oh… Really?" he perks up, leaning forward on the table. His dark eyes round with curiosity, "And? H-how is she?"

Greg folds his lips, nods slowly.

"She seems… good, actually," he divulges. He can see his words processing in Josh's mind, almost see his wheels turning. "Well, as good as can be expected, ya know. For Rebecca…"

Josh's usually bright face falls as he says, "I'm sure she had a lot to say about me…"

"Uh… no, actually."

Greg's response seems to surprise him.

"...No?"

Greg leans back in his booth, his finger nervously tracing circles in the condensation of his frosty soda glass, "No, your name didn't even come up."

Josh falls back too, huffing out a resigned sigh, "Wow. she must really hate me then, huh?" Greg narrows his gaze, wincing his face at his oldest friend and clicking his tongue. His head cocks to the side as he wonders if Josh was always this self-involved, or if he's just now truly noticing just how self-involved he can be.

"That's the thing... I don't think she does. It was almost like… like you were irrelevant."

He hadn't anticipated how painful such a statement like that might seem to Josh, but the moment he sees it on Josh's expressive face, he feels bad. He tries again, "She just seems focused on getting better, you know?" he adds to soften the blow. "I don't think she's mad at anyone."

Relief seems to wash over Josh, smoothing the severe line on his brow, "Oh. Well, I guess that's good." Still, Greg isn't quite convinced.

"You don't seem like you mean that…"

Josh's shoulders slump, dejectedly, "I just… I guess I just spent so long being Valencia's boyfriend, and then Rebecca's boyfriend - Rebecca's fiance-"

"Don't forget Anna," WhiJo adds, appearing seemingly from nowhere and settling into the booth beside Josh. He sets down his beer bottle, seamlessly joining into the conversation.

"There was a third?" Greg says, eyes wide and mouth agape. "How do you have the energy? I can hardly lock down one woman..."

With a friendly pat on the back, WhiJo teases, "With your laundry list of issues, that's probably a good thing." Greg shoots him a look, but his friend just shrugs back at him, taking a sip of his beer.

Josh waves WhiJo off dismissively, turning back to Greg, "don't mind him; he and Darryl are having problems so he's extra judgy."

"So I see," Greg hums back, but WhiJo is both unoffended and unfazed.

Josh sighs again, "anyway, I'm just… I'm glad she's feeling better."

There is a long, awkward silence between the three of them, until WhiJo finally asks aloud, "seriously, why are all of my friends in love with this girl?"

Josh and Greg exchange glances but before they can even answer, Greg's phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out without thinking. It's another word game alert: Rebecca has played the word Quixotic.

Now, that one hurts.

Not only did she find a way to use a "Q" & an "X", but she also hit a Triple Word space, garnering her a whopping 84 points.

Unbelievable.

The alert is followed immediately by a private message. Rebecca has slid into his DMs just to gloat: "suck it, Serrano," she writes, followed by a kissy face emoji.

Greg finds himself smirking down at his phone despite himself, but it doesn't last long. He knows he should be concerned that they are already back on emoji and pet-name terms, so fast.

"What are you smiling at over there?" WhiJo wonders, and it snaps Greg back to reality.

Greg's eyes rise guiltily and his face falls, "what? I'm not. I'm not smiling, you're smiling-" He takes pause and breathes slowly though his nose, his eyes fluttering shut in mortification when he hears how defensive he sounds.

"Uh… ya were. But okay," WhiJo snorts into the neck of his beer and shakes his head. "Georgia made you weird, Serrano," he observes before tipping the bottle back.

"Wait… Are you talking to a girl?" Josh wonders, suddenly intrigued. Color Greg surprised that Josh shows more interest in any topic revolving around a potential love interest than he does for most other things.

"No."

"That was a talking-to-a-girl smile," Josh accuses, and neither Greg nor WhiJo bother to say that of all of them, he would know, because the joke is just too obvious. "Did you meet a girl back in Georgia? Are you seeing someone?"

"I am starting to think none of my conversations lately would pass the reverse Bechdel test," Greg observes, shaking his head, disapprovingly. "And since when do you guys care about stuff like this?"

"I don't know, man. There's been a real shift around here since you left," WhiJo admits painedly, as though he didn't even realize just how much things had changed yet stayed the same until this moment. He shakes it off, his gaze back to Greg, "so. How long are you staying?"

Huh.

Greg hadn't totally thought about that. He supposes it should be sooner than later - he has responsibilities back in Georgia. A life. Not much of a life, but a life nonetheless.

"I'm not sure," is the only thing he can think to reply. Greg takes another drink off his soda, then scoots himself out of the booth. "I've got to get to a meeting. I'll see you guys soon."

They say their goodbyes, and Greg turns to head out to the meeting hall on East Cameron. If he's not mistaken, there is a meeting at noon today.

He reaches into his pocket for his phone, staring down at that word again:

quix·ot·ic

/kwikˈsädik/

adjective

1. exceedingly idealistic; unrealistic and impractical.

Another word that's eerily fitting.

But he can't help but notice that those same letters can also spell out the word t-o-x-i-c. But that's got to be just another weird coincidence….

Although, nothing feels like a coincidence, anymore.

Yeah… he needs to get down to that meeting.

Immediately.

Greg clutches the pink box of donuts to his chest as he enters the old, musty, familiar smell of the meeting hall. It fills his nose and reminds him of the toughest time of his life - strange the way smells can catapult you back to a state of being that way.

Just like the smell of her hair made his heart jump to his throat.

He shakes the thoughts away. He's getting tired of these memories knocking him off-balance.

"Wow! Welcome back Emory-" Guardrail sees him and calls out from the front of the room. Greg smiles, holding up the box of donuts as a hello.

Guardrail stands and offers him a very rare smile as well as a partial hug - although it's more of a glorified handshake.

"So did that nickname catch on orrr-?" Greg wonders, mentally noting he'd been called it more than once since he'd been home. "Because I don't mind it. It's better than some of my other nicknames that have stuck over the years." He sets the box down on the gray, plastic tabletop with a sharp plop.

Guardrail ignores Greg's completely rhetorical question, instead eyeing the box with suspicion, "Those aren't those fancy-schmancy donuts you got before, are they?"

"Nope. They are your regular, generic, day-old donuts from the grocery on East Cameron."

"Nice," The biker hisses, rubbing his hands together approvingly. He opens the box to take a peek inside as though he doesn't totally believe him. "So, what are you doing back in town?"

"Just a visit. Wanted to see some old friends-"

"Friends like… that pretty lawyer lady that just tried to kill herself?"

The blow takes Greg aback and he can feel his face twist up into a grimace.

"Wow, Guardrail. That was… blunt."

Guardrail merely shrugs, reminding him over a mouthful of stale donut, "oh, c'mon. It's right there in the steps - Rigorous Honesty."

"Rigorous. Not brutal…"

He waves a dismissive hand in Greg's general direction, "Tomato, to-mah-to."

Greg reaches for the familiar white binder on the table that holds today's meeting agenda, beginning to thumb through it. He thinks he'll ask to read the A.A. Preamble at the beginning of the meeting. When he turns to suggest it to Guardrail, he's surprised to see him staring at him, skeptically.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Hmm?" Greg hums, his eyes widening with innocence. "About what?"

Guardrail pulls out a chair with a long, metallic groan across the tiled floor and takes a seat.

"About whatever it is that's giving you resting Maggie Smith face," he says, his hand extending out to invite Greg to sit in the metal chair across from him. Greg doesn't move, though - he was hoping this meeting would be a welcome distraction from his thoughts as well as a much needed refresher since he'd been feeling so weak lately.

"Oh. I uh… I dunno," he stammers, his hands waving to halt him. "I sort of think saying it aloud might make it all a little too real right now."

Guardrail leans forward, clasping his hands together on the plastic fold-out table, "gotta face it sometime. Keeping things bottled leads to the bottle."

"Nice one," Greg comments, offering him a high-five.

"Coined it," Guardrail replies, catching it. "But anyway. If it's something that is making you thirsty, you should probably unload it here."

A short silence settles between them and Greg knows Guardrail is right - he usually is.

"Ok. Um. So…" he begins, hesitantly, He clears his throat to keep his voice from cracking, "So about the pretty lawyer lady-"

"Called it."

"Yeah. You're pretty wise," Greg nods but continues on. "So, it's like… I literally uprooted my entire life to move 3000 miles just to get her out of my head-"

"I think that's giving her a little too much credit, don't you think?" Guardrail muses. "You had this great opportunity to move on and go back to school. And from the sounds of it… you guys were a real shitshow. It was probably for the best."

"Totally," Greg agrees, but then his breath hitches and his bottom lip catches under his teeth. He bites down, unsure how to say the thing that has been dancing around in his brain since the moment he found out about Rebecca's incident. "It's just… even when I was away, she never felt that far, you know? And even though I'm back, it doesn't feel like I've really come back. This whole last year I've felt like I'm just… hovering in some kind of purgatory. I haven't been able to sort my feelings out where she's concerned since the moment I left her at the airport. I was so busy trying to stay sober and prove that my life was better in Atlanta, that it's like I forgot to actually deal with any of it. But then I saw her yesterday and it felt like crash-landing back to earth and-"

"And now all those ugly, complicated feelings were still here waiting for you, huh?"

Greg sighs, his shoulders slumping as he fidgets with his fingers in his lap, "to say the least."

"Look. I can't tell you how to live your life, Greg. But I can tell you that you'll have to get to the ugly parts soon enough. You can't really recover from something, even a relationship, if you never allow yourself to figure out what it is about it that made it so hard to leave in the first place. Remember step 1?"

Step 1: Admit we were powerless over our addictions and compulsive behaviors, that our lives had become unmanageable.

"Of course."

Guardrail goes on, "They call them steps because they are like a dance. 1-2-3, 1-2-3…. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. You'll revisit them and have to keep working the program. It works for life, too. You have to admit that you still have unresolved feelings for this woman - regardless of how badly you don't want to. The only way out is through. You can't just skip the hard stuff." Guardrail's words mind Greg of his own, and he even lets out a light laugh through his nose, shaking his head.

"Funny. I literally told her that yesterday."

"Well, sounds like you're having a hard time following your own advice. You should really stop that - it's good advice."

Greg sits back in his chair - this has all been a lot to digest today; first the Words with Friends game with Rebecca, the conversation with Josh… and now this. One thing was sure: even though he'd seen and talked to Rebecca yesterday, he'd only just barely scratched the surface in terms of what he still needed to say to her.

And he knew he couldn't go back to Georgia without clearing the air for good. He needed to get her out of his system, one way or another… whatever that meant.

Greg lets himself into his hotel room, plopping down on the end of the bed and staring at his phone in his hand. He'd spent the rest of the day after his meeting wandering, trying to figure out the right things to say - what was there to say?

About an hour ago, he'd received a message from Rebecca through their Words with Friends chat: "? ? ?"

He hadn't responded.

Firstly, she was kicking his butt at this game and his ego wasn't appreciating it, thankyouverymuch.

But secondly… he was losing his nerve. Maybe he was wrong - maybe he was overthinking it. Yesterday had been so jarring with all those feelings and emotions plaguing him the moment he felt the weight of her body in his arms again. It was like a million years and miles and distanced them, but in that moment he felt exactly back where he was before he left. Which… he wasn't sure was a good thing for him.

Not one bit.

And today just proved it. He was acting like the old Greg, hiding from her the way he had been all day. He didn't want to face those feelings again. And he figured it had something to do with how good it felt. He knew where that feeling always led for him.

For them.

His phone vibrates in his hand.

It's her: it got weird, didn't it?

He sucks in a quick, brave breath and clicks open the keyboard on his phone. His fingers hover over the screen before he can bring himself to type out a simple message:

Greg: hey.

He sends it off and holds his breath. It takes less than a minute before she responds.

Rebecca: ah, there you are.

Rebecca: I was starting to think I scared you off.

Greg: sorry. busy day today catching up.

Rebecca: speaking of catching up…

Rebecca: what are you doing?

This was the sort of exchange he'd been afraid of, but he wasn't feeling as apprehensive about it as he had before. He knew where this was heading… still he couldn't stop himself from quickly typing back:

Greg: just resting… why? what's up?

Rebecca: Well, I'm craving tacos…

Rebecca: my treat?

Greg's stomach gurgles excitedly in response, and he realizes he is silly to even think that he would be able to say no to her. Or at the very least, say no to tacos. Before he can change his mind, he writes her back:

Greg: what time?

Greg checks the address on his GPS as he pulls along the curb in front of Rebecca's (new) place. He squints at the metal numbers along the exterior to make sure they match. The place looks oddly familiar, and he can't figure out where he'd seen it before.

Wait… wasn't this that place all those drug dealers got murdered? He recalls to himself but decides that's not important right now. What is important is that he faces his fears and finds the will to get out of his car and approach the front door.

He is surprised, however, to round the corner and nearly knock right into someone leaving Rebecca's just as he's coming up.

"Whoa!" Greg exclaims, finding his footing before tripping backward.

"Hey!" The tall, blonde man utters, doing the same. After both find their balance, the man is looking at Greg as though he's some kind of intruder. And once Greg gets a good look back at him, all kinds of alpha-male alarms start going off in his head - this is exactly the kind of dudes he avoids. He somehow just knows this, instinctively.

He looks like the douchey villain in an 80's skiing movie, Greg thinks to himself.

He watches as the man somehow seems to stand up even taller (and what is he, a goddamned Sequoia?) and puff out his chest a bit. Greg can't help but think of his father's macaws, circling each other in a pecking contest. He looks Greg up and down - from the look on his face, he hardly seems impressed.

Then why does he seem so threatened?

"Uh… Hi…?" Greg shoves his hands in his pockets, leaning back on his heels as the guy continues to gawk at him.

The man shakes off his stupor before asking, "I'm sorry, are... are you here to see Rebecca?"

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's happening here - Greg deduces that this is another soul Rebecca managed to ensnare with her charm and adorableness. Although… this is hardly the kind of guy Greg would expect to be leaving her house.

Actually, on second thought, no. This is exactly the kind of guy Greg would expect to be leaving her house. Somehow, he's not surprised.

"Uh… yeah? Why?"

The other man's incredulous gaze falls back at Rebecca's front door and he scoffs, shaking his head. The door cracks open and Rebecca comes outside to see Greg and the blonde guy staring back at her. Her eyes round and her face drops a bit. Her hands clench and unclench and Greg can see her nerves radiating from her very core. Her eyes dart between the two of them, her posture shrinking when the man asks, "Who is he?"

Greg is immediately put off by the tone. He steps forward, not caring that the guy looms over him, intimidatingly.

"He is Greg," he answers when Rebecca initially stalls. "And he is not invisible. So..."

Rebecca shakes her curls, clearing her throat as she goes on to explain, "this is an old friend of mine."

"More like 'old 'words-with-friends' with benefits," Greg cracks before muttering to Rebecca under his breath, "coined it."

She rewards his snark with a snort and a high five, but then her smile drops and she composes herself under the man's glower. Greg is certain he's never seen her fire snuffed out so quickly.

She clears her throat, gesturing between the two of them meekly, "um, right. Greg, this is Nathaniel. Nathaniel, this is Greg."

"Hi," Greg greets again, extending his hand out to shake Nathaniel', only to have him ignore him completely and turn back to Rebecca.

"So. Then, I guess this is what you meant when you said you were busy tonight?" Nathaniel ventures.

"Well, Greg's just in town for a little while-"

"Got it," Nathaniel snaps before she can even finish her thought. Greg briefly considers stepping between the two of them and defending her, but at the same time, it's Rebecca. He doesn't know their situation - she has a way of getting herself into awkward situations, and he of all people should know that. Still, he feels his fists ball and his face run hot at the energy surrounding the two of them. Something just… isn't right.

Nathaniel's glare burns holes in Rebecca and she seems physically affected by it. He then turns to Greg, politely telling him to "have a great night," but it sounds a whole lot like "fuck you."

Greg makes sure to match his tone when he mutters, "Same to you, buddy." He waits until Nathaniel is out of earshot before jutting a thumb out in Nathaniel's direction, "what the hell was that about?"

Rebecca is dazed, but she once again shakes it off, her smile returning.

It's fake.

It makes Greg's stomach sink.

"Oh, don't worry about him. He's just a drama queen," she says, waving him off. Her eyes dance when they lock with Greg's, and the harsh lines of her smile soften into something a little more sincere as she assures him, "I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too," Greg replies, and it isn't even a lie.

They head toward Greg's car, and he wants so badly to ask her more about Nathaniel but decides against it - it's not his business, and she clearly didn't want to talk about it. So he lets it go… for now. He will definitely remember to bring it back up at a different time.

Greg climbs in the driver's seat while Rebecca does the same on the passenger side.

"I forgot to ask… Where are you even staying?" Rebecca asks as she reaches over her shoulder to wrestle with the seatbelt. It's locked, so she tugs on it a few times to no avail. Greg chuckles, reaching over her to help. It loosens on the first pull. Her eyebrows raise as though she's impressed.

"Woooow," she purrs. "You just have the magic touch." She takes the seat belt buckle from him and fastens herself the rest of the way in.

"You seem surprised but I'm pretty sure that's not the first time you've dished that compliment out to me," Greg recalls and he swears he can see her cheeks slightly rouge red. He catches himself admiring the shade a little too much, so instead, he sits forward, buckling himself in as well.

"Why do you want to know where I'm staying? Are you trying to stalk me?"

"Ha-ha-ha. You wish, Serrano."

"No… no, I don't suppose anyone wishes to be stalked. Even if it's by a pretty girl."

His eyes roll back and flutter closed in mortification of what he just said as soon as he hears it… Why the hell does his mouth decide to say things aloud without his permission?

Rebecca doesn't seem fazed, just casually assures him, "I think my stalking days are behind me."

"That's probably for the best." They laugh lightly as he starts up the engine, releasing the parking brake and pulling out onto the road. "But um, to answer your question, I opted for the ever-classy Days Inn on West Cameron."

"Ooooh. Fancy."

"Yeah, not really. But thanks."

There's an easy lull in their conversation and he can tell she wants to say something as she wrings her hands beside him.

"Hey, so… I know this is going to sound really weird," she starts timidly.

"Uh, huh... that's no real surprise."

She ignores him.

As she should.

"But… Can I come over and study at your hotel sometime?"

He peels his eyes from the road to see her slightly apprehensive look on her face, "this is starting to feel like a thinly-veiled attempt to seduce me…" he teases, but his tone falls flat. Because even though he's teasing her, he couldn't be any more serious.

"Kinda the last thing on my mind these days, to be honest."

"Oh. Well. I'm so flattered, thanks."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Why can't you study at home? Or the study bar?"

She sighs deeply, clawing her fingernails through her hair and nestling back in the seat.

"I don't know I think… I think I just need to be around someone that doesn't treat me differently. Doesn't treat me like I am this fragile, broken person."

"But… you are a fragile, broken person… 'To Broken People,' remember? We even cheersed on it. You're the most broken person I know." He glances at her sideways and offers her a soft smirk. She leans her head back on the headrest and reciprocates.

She scrunches her nose, "See? You don't treat me any differently than the usual, dickish Greg Serrano we all know and love."

Greg feels his smile slowly dissipate. He knows he needs to face her head on and they still have a lot to discuss, but this seems all a bit… soon.

Too soon.

"Look, Bunch. I'm not sure it's a good idea-"

"I already said I'm not trying to seduce you!" Her voice squeaks defensively. She sits more erect, turning her body towards his. He can see her in his peripheral. "I'll keep my hands to myself, scout's honor-"

"It's not that-"

"What is it?" she presses. "Too soon? Too fast? You hate me?"

Greg pulls the car off to the side of the road abruptly, pushing the gear in park. Rebecca's jaw unhinges and she looks at him quizzically. He turns to face her as well.

"What are yo-"

"I'm not going to let you use me to punish yourself, Rebecca." He watches her breath escape her lips at his words, her eyes instantly beginning to gloss over. "You have to stop beating yourself up. You want to be around me so I can join you in a good old-fashioned Greg and Rebecca barb fest. But I'm not that person anymore."

"Greg-"

"And you know what?" his voice shakes, regardless of how much he tries to stop it. "Rebecca, I'm glad I'm not that person anymore. I hated that guy. You shouldn't want to be around him."

"Well. When you put it that way…" she jokes without humor. He watches as her lip slightly quivers and she swallows down the lump in her throat. He'd be lying if he wasn't choking one down, himself.

"I think we have a lot to talk about. But first I want you to know you don't deserve to be treated badly. By me. By yourself…" Greg's words trail off, and he considers stopping there. But he just has to say it: "And certainly not by that Nathaniel guy. Look, I don't know what the deal is between you two, and I'm not even sure I want to. But you deserve love, Rebecca. You deserve to be treated well."

She seems a bit shellshocked, and Greg would be lying if he wasn't a little surprised at himself, as well. She nods, silently bringing her fingertip up to stop a tear from escaping down her cheek. She sniffs. Smiles.

"Okay," she breathes.

"Okay." Greg turns back in his seat, flipping on his blinker to get back onto the road smoothly.

"You weren't that bad, you know," Rebecca says quietly after a few moments of silence pass.

"I wasn't that good either," Greg counters. "But I'm trying to be."

"I know you are. And it's very becoming of you."

tbc