Page 99 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

And there it is . . . laid out in the simplest form.

I am jealous of their fake relationship. It makes no sense other than I want him all to myself. Leaning forward, I ask the driver, “Do you mind turning up the air-conditioning?”

“Oh, my God,” she says, sitting back and angling her knees toward me. “You’re jealous. Why? Why would you be . . . Ah. Only you’re allowed to have a crush on Rad.”

“You have a crush on Rad?”

She stares at me, her expression kicked into neutral. When she sighs, she faces forward again. The silence is killing me, so I start tugging at a loose thread on my shirt’s hem. Seconds feel torturously long and turn into minutes. I glance out the window, knowing we’ll be approaching Rad’s building soon.

Desperate to get answers and then smooth things over before I have to leave, I ask, “Marlow?”

Her sigh is heavier this time, filled with disappointment, like her eyes when she looks at me. “I don’t have a crush on Rad. I never did, and I don’t now.” The car pulls to the curb.

Her tone is steeped in anger, and she looks away from me again.

Having her mad at me hurts, and I’m not sure I can fix this before costing her a fortune in cab fare. “I’m sorry.” Lifting her chin minutely, she continues to stare ahead. “I think it’s best if I just leave?—”

“Yes,” she adds.

I open the door and wade through the quicksand of emotions as I get out of the vehicle. I can’t leave it like this. Turning back, I lower my head. “Marlow, I’m?—”

“It doesn’t bother me that you think I have a crush on Rad. He’s the type I usually date—attractive, great body, even better career, and financially well off.”

Though I’m tempted to roll my eyes, I don’t because it will only add fuel to the fire. This time, I keep my mouth shut. She continues, “So it’s not a great leap to assume we’d make a great couple. We’re a match on many levels. But what hurts is you think I’d act on it, knowing how you feel about him.” She grabs the handle of the door and slams it shut.

The cab pulls away, leaving me standing with my jaw on the sidewalk and a spike through my heart.

Marlow is not my enemy, like Kayla. She’s the opposite, my best friend. Of course, she’d never hurt me. I just wish thatwhile they get to go public with their arrangement, I wasn’t stuck hiding the real thing.

Just a few more weeks, I remind myself as I head for the apartment. Why’d I let jealousy get in the way of my friendship? I stop and pull out my phone. Texting Marlow, I type:I’m sorry. I know you’d never hurt me.

The three dots wave across the screen, not coming soon enough. When they disappear, a message replaces them:I appreciate that because I wouldn’t, but I worry that you’re going to be hurt when he starts dating someone seriously. Maybe it’s time for you to start dating again. I know this great guy, an art collector, who could take your mind off Rad. I’ll shoot him a text.

Panicking, I start typing:No.

Me:I’m good.

Me:I don’t need to be set up.

Me:I’m good.

Crap!I already typed that.

Marlow:Too late. He said yes to being your date to the wedding.

Beyond a million reasons I can think of why I don’t need my friends setting me up, everything from I don’t need a man to complete me to dealing with enough life changes at the moment, only one matters most.

Rad.

31

Tealey

A warm showerclears my head but doesn’t wash away my sins.

I’m about to shut off the water when the door opens. I turn to find Rad—shirtless with only his boxer briefs on. “Want some company?”

He makes it hard to say no, but I need to, for me. “Will you hate me if I say no?” I ask, setting the soap down.

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