Page 7 of Waiting for Her

“Just… figure it out, okay?”

“Bri. Figure what out? I’m not a mind reader. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“But you know something’s wrong?”

I resist the urge to scoff. “Uh. Yeah. I figured that shit out weeks ago.”

“Weeks, huh? But yet, you have no idea?”

“Shit, B. I don’t know! How else can I say it? Did I do something?”

“Oh no. You did nothing,” she deadpans, uncrossing her arms and throwing them out in front of her.

I don’t even know what she means.

“So I didn’t do anything. But you’re pissed at me?” I guess.

“I’m not pissed. I’m annoyed.”

“Annoyed with what?” I ask as I park beside another pickup. It’s a familiar scene around us, it’s been our go-to party spot for a few years. The large bonfire in the middle of an open field cocooned by trees for privacy. A small group of guys is gathered around a keg set up behind a black pickup.

We had a great game tonight. I had a kick-ass touchdown. And just like I’ve done after every single touchdown since I started playing football, I celebrated by pointing to the stands in the exact direction I knew Bri was sitting.

Because I always know. It’s a sixth sense.

Bri.

My Bri.

But yet—not mine.

Not officially.

All the guys in school know she’s mine even though we’re technically only friends.

Best friends.

Since we were in fourth grade.

Friend-zoned for eight years.

At my own doing.

“Stop acting like a dumb ass and figure it out already. I won’t wait much longer,” she says then hops out of my pickup and slams the door behind her.

I actually am not a total dumbass because I know exactly what she’s referring to. She’s been dropping hints for the last six months. But I’m too chicken shit to do anything about it.

I watch as she runs to where her group of friends are all huddled. A few of them with red plastic cups in their hands.

I blow out a breath and hit the back of my head against my headrest a few times before unfolding myself from my seat as well.

My other best friend Blake is standing by the bonfire, cup in hand, probably telling another story, the thing he loves to do most. Half of them I’m pretty sure he pulls directly out of his ass and the other half are glorified truths. He loves an audience so if he needs to exaggerate to get everyone’s attention, he will.

I sidle up next to him and he stops talking only for a moment, briefly looking around the party, likely for Bri since where one of us goes, the other follows. I find her easily, her long dark ponytail impossible to miss even in the night sky.

I nod my head in her direction and his eyes follow.

“Damn. She looks fucking hot tonight, yeah?”

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