Page 10 of Going the Distance
Chapter 4
“What do you mean,you’re bailing on me? You knew I was babysitting Brad tonight while my dad’s upstate on a conference. Youpromisedyou’d stay over!”
Lee sighed into the phone, and I knew he was tugging at his hair. “I know, Shelly. I’m sorry. I am a pathetic excuse for a best friend.”
“Oh, come on, Lee, please? Rachel will survive without you for one evening.”
I knew I sounded whiny and bratty, but it really felt likeagessince Lee and I had properly spent any time together, just the two of us hanging out. We were only a week into school, but between Rachel and his new spot on the football team (and actual school work, too, of course) I felt like he was slowly drifting away from me.
I was trying hard not to be mad at him about it. He was totally head over heels in love with Rachel. He was busy. I understood that. I was happy for him.
But still—what about me?
Lee hadn’t replied. He was feeling bad, and I knew he was probably trying to figure out a way to say “I’d rather spend my evening with my girlfriend than you” without sounding like a jackass.
“I just miss you,” I said, my voice sounding small. I cringed; I sounded so pathetic. Honestly, how crazy did I sound?I miss you.I saw him practically every day. “We just don’t hang out so much anymore.”
“I know, Shelly. I’m sorry.”
“Can’t you come over at least for alittlewhile?”
“I can’t.”
I sighed.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We’ll go shopping tomorrow. Shoe shopping. I’m buying lunch.”
“Hmm…”
It didn’t make up for it at all, but I knew how hard he was trying. I felt myself caving quickly. I always did, when it came to Lee.
“And I’ll find you a replacement co-babysitter?” he offered.
“Is dessert included in this lunch?”
“Dessertora starter. Not both.”
“Sold.”
He laughed, but then said quietly, “I’m really sorry. It’s just…You know?”
“I get it. It’s okay.” It wasn’t, but it had to be. “Have fun. Say hi to Rachel for me.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, Elle! You’re the best.”
Hanging up, I fell back onto my bed. Brad would be home from soccer practice in about twenty minutes, so I decided to relish the peace and quiet while it lasted.
Soon enough, I heard Brad yell goodbye to the boys piled into the back of the minivan dropping him off and him running toward the house. I went down to meet him.
“I scored a goal!”
I ruffled his hair. “Awesome!” Then I pushed him away at arm’s length before he stepped inside. “Okay, little guy. Cleats off. Straight in the shower. Try not to get mud everywhere.”
“But—”
“Cleats, shower. Go, go, go!”
I knocked the dried mud off his shoes before following the trail of muddy laundry up to the bathroom door. On the other side, Brad was belting out some rap song I kind of recognized from the radio, but with most of the lyrics wrong. (I was sure that whatever the words were, they didn’t mention grilled cheese.)
