Page 30 of I Did Something Bad
“You know you’re dead to me,” I mutter as we enter the house. Patrick leads Tyler upstairs so he can get a full tour before they bring out the food.
“My, my,” Thidar says as she arranges another place setting. “What’s got you so hostile? I simply invited my best friend and her new friend to dinner. Sharing is caring!”
“You know if I don’t kill you, then Nay surely will.”
Thidar waves a fork in the air. “Nay’s out at that new karaoke bar. I saw her Insta stories.” Lowering her voice, she squeaks out,“I cannot believe we’re having dinner with Tyler Tun! Can we take photos? Pleeease let me ask for a selfie. Or is that too cheesy? Oh, who cares! How many chances are we going to get to have dinner withTyler Tun? Also, is he somehow even more handsome in person?”
“He just came back from set,” I say with an indifferent shrug. “You should see him in the morning when his voice is still weird and gravelly. Celebrities, they’re just like us! See if you still think the same when he’s bare-faced and he’s got coffee breath which he hides with these mints that he always carries in his pockets and—” I look up to find Thidar smiling. It’s not her earlier grin, but a smile like she’s holding in a secret. “What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“What?” I insist.
“Nothing,” she repeats.
I round the table and am about to shake her by the shoulders when she grabs a nearby knife and points it at me. “Don’t you—” She starts to laugh, but cuts herself off when she sees my reaction. My head is rotated sideways, my shoulders hunched, both my hands protecting my face as I squeeze my eyes shut. “Hey, I wasn’t actually going to stab you,” she says. When I turn back, she’s lowering the knife, her expression marked with concern.
“Sorry,” I say, and try to laugh at myself. “I’m…reallytired.”
I can tell she wants to buy it, but doesn’t entirely. “You sure? You okay?” I nod. “Like, in general?” she presses.
No,I say in my head.No, I murdered a man in the middle of the night and I might go to jail and I can’t remember how it feels to be able to sleep for more than three consecutive hours.
The three of us have been best friends since we were five, and I have never kept a secret from them. More than one of our exes has accused us of being codependent, but we prefer to refer to it as Collective Only Child Syndrome. They are my emergency contacts, myfirstin any scenario—the first people I text for an outfit check, the first people I called when I got engaged, the first people I saw after Ben left me, the first names that pop to mind whenever I need a plus-one for an event. But currently, standing here in Thidar’s dining room, it feels like I’m staring at her from across a chasm that only I can see; fromhervantage point, I’m a little preoccupied, but no more than usual when I’m on a big assignment.
“Please, don’t act like I’d actually be scared of you. I know you can’t take me,” I say, and throw in a light punch to her arm.
Her giggle is sweet and gentle, just like her whole personality, and the sound both makes me smile and reaffirms my decision that I can’t drag her into my mess. I know she’d go to the ends of the earth and back for me, but I also know the toll it would take on her big, soft heart.
“Watch out, hot lasagna coming through!” Patrick announces just then.
He enters with a wine bottle in one hand and an opener in the other. Behind him is Tyler, wearing the pale pink oven mitts to carry the matching pink Le Creuset baking dish that I’d bought for their engagement gift. When he places the dish down in the middle of the table, it smells so good that I can’t help but bend over and take a deep sniff. The cheese is still slightly boiling on the surface, but the edges are already nice and crispy.
“I admit, this looksdelicious,” I practically moan. I push the curtain of hair that’s fallen over my face behind my ear, and give a small start when I find Tyler looking at me with an indecipherable expression, lips parted and eyes soft at the edges where some makeup has wiped away—probably his own doing—and those deep grooves are starting to show.
“What?” I ask, a little embarrassed when it comes out breathy.
“Nothing,” he says, and shifts his gaze downward while he removes the oven mitts.
“Why’d you only bring three glasses?” Thidar asks as Patrick pours the red.
“I have an early start time,” Tyler answers for him. “I’ll stick to water. Thank you, though.”
I groan and swipe the last glass before Patrick can pour into it. “That meansIhave an early start time, too,” I say. “Water it is for me, then.”
Thidar cuts out a piece of lasagna for herself before passing the utensils to me. While I focus on removing a nice large corner piece, she asks, “So Tyler, what’s next on the agenda for you? After this movie.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see him smiling politely.Thinkingbefore he answers. I stay quiet. Maybe he’ll be less guarded if his brain forgets that I’m in the room. “I’m weighing my options,” he says.
“But you must have anidea,” Thidar presses on my behalf. “Is it the Bond movie? Or the new season ofBridgerton? You can tell us. We won’t tell anyone. Your secret will be safe with us. And Pizza,” she adds, nodding toward the living room where Pizza is sleeping in his crate.
Tyler laughs. “I wish I could tell you. But I’m trying to do this new thing where I don’t plan too far ahead. You never know what life might throw at you, right? What’s the point of stressing yourself out with all these plans when you could, say, slip getting out of the bathtub and die?”
Thidar nods with a contemplative look. “Or choke on a piece of lasagna.”
Tyler tilts his glass at her. “Exactly.”
The sound of Pizza playing with a squeaky toy catches our collectiveattention, and, uncomfortable with all this talk about death, I casually call out, “You okay in there, Piz?”
