Page 5 of Friendshipped
“Nah,” I assure her. “He’s flexible. And you know he’ll want to help distract you when he hears about Shane.”
Jayme looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. Her eyebrows raise and her lips twist to the side while she weighs my offer.
“Okay,” she finally says.
I shoot Trevor a quick text.
Lexi: Still in the restroom.
Trevor: Do you need me to come break you out? Is this like a jailbreak situation? Do I need to do hostage negotiations with Buddy?
Lexi: Was I in here that long?
Trevor: No. It’s all good. Got an oil change and tire rotation while I waited. Considering a mani-pedi too. Do I have time?
Lexi: Ha! Nope. Times up. Seriously, Jayme’s boyfriend’s an idiot. Ex-boyfriend. She was in here crying. I’m bringing her home with me overnight.
Trevor: Do we need to plot revenge on this guy?
Lexi: You know it. Let’s get her through this first bit of grieving, though.
Trevor: Sounds good. Does she like Italian?
Lexi: Already asked her to join us.
Trevor: (thumbs up emoji)
I don’t pause to appreciate the awesome way Trevor jumps in to support Jayme, no questions asked. Okay, maybe I pause for a moment. Trevor’s everything I want in a man: thoughtful, funny, and drop dead gorgeous. And he’s unfortunately also completely off-limits.
“Do you need us to follow you to your place while you pick up whatever you need?” I ask Jayme.
“Nah,” she says. “I’ll just grab a few things and be right over.”
She pauses and looks up through her red-rimmed eyes. “You two ought to be a couple.”
I laugh lightly. It’s not the first time she’s said it. All our friends take turns pushing for more than friendship between me and Trevor even though they know better.
“You know the drill,” I remind Jayme. “We’re best friends. Nothing romantic will ever work between us, and we’re both good with that.”
She just hums.
Even people who don’t know me as well as Jayme usually give some form of hum, eye roll, or raise of the eyebrows when they hear mywe’re just friendsspeech.
Most people don’t understand the true fragility of my friendship with Trevor. We survived going away to separate schools for four years, dating other people, coming back home, and even two tragic near misses where we almost attempted something romantic.
The fallout from the two times we stuck our toes over the line of strictly friends gave me a crystal ball view into what life would be like if I ever lost my friendship with Trevor. Not worth the risk, especially since it’s clear he’s fully committed to being friends now.
I use the restroom at the Dairyland, grab three slushies and meet Jayme and Trevor in the parking lot.
Jayme’s holding her phone. A pained expression crosses her face as I hand Trevor his death by cherry slush.
“What is it?” I ask.
Jayme turns her cell so Trevor and I can see it. I hand over her Oh-So-Blue Blue-Raspberry Slush. Jayme takes a long sip.
The screen fills with a photo of Shane with his arm around some redhead all snuggled up sharing a restaurant booth.
When I gasp, Jayme starts crying again—loudly enough the other people gassing up their cars look our way and stare. I give them each the look Mrs. Swackhammer used to give us in third grade when we acted up in class. Most of them go back to pumping fuel. Nosiness and Bordeaux go together like wheels and a bicycle. Town gossip keeps us spinning, that’s for sure.
