Page 40 of Just Friends Forever
I nod. “Okay.”
Siena raises a brow, squaring me with a serious look. “Promise?”
I hesitate for a split-second. It’s hard to imagine not taking everyone else into account when I make decisions, but deep down, I know they’re right.
“Promise,” I say.
Siena puts out her pinky, the nail a brand new, glossy pink. Tori follows suit with her teal-colored one. They smile and wait until I hook my pinky awkwardly around theirs.
“Here’s to making life what we want it to be,” Siena says, tugging down on our pinkies like we’re in a girls’ night version of a football huddle.
I laugh along with them, but my mind is racing. WhatdoI want my life to be? It hasn’t turned out at all like I had planned so far, but the Sheppards are right. I have an entire future ahead of me. What should it look like?
I’d been running under the assumption that dating, if I ever jumped back into it again, was way off on the horizon. So far off it might be a mirage. But, if I’ve been checking out the guy who’s been my best friend since I was thirteen, maybe I’m not as far from it as I thought I was.
14
TROY
“Did you like your alfredo?”I ask. Muffled voices and forks and knives clanking on plates enhance the stiffness of our conversation.
“Yeah, it was really good,” Lyla answers as she sets her fork down.
“Check, please,” I say as the waiter passes.
He nods and disappears.
“What time is the movie?” Lyla asks.
“8:40.”
Lyla taps her phone to check the time. “Oh, good. Plenty of time.”
“Yeah.” So. Much. Time.
It’s my fault the vibe is weird tonight. I know it is. I’m preoccupied with the question I haven’t asked yet, and I can’t help thinking about the crazy things the paparazzi camped outside my house might take it into their heads to do while I’m gone.
The waiter returns with the check, and I hand my credit card to him rather than letting him set it down so we have to wait for him to come get it again.
He gives me a funny look, and I smile at him, hoping to offset my overeagerness. It’s not that I don’t enjoy spending time with Lyla. She’s great. I should’ve cleared the air before dinner instead of waiting, but I was nervous I’d put a damper on the whole night. This doesn’t seem much better, though.
She keeps shooting glances at me like she’s trying to figure out why I’m being different. I’m trying to give her the benefit of the doubt and not assume she spilled the beans about Stevie to the media, but I honestly can’t think who else would have done it. I considered Maggie, but we never told her Stevie was staying with me, and it would be strange for her to assume it. Besides, she doesn’t seem the type to do something like that.
The fact that I think Lylaisthe type is what’s been bugging me for the past two days.
“Is everything okay?” Lyla asks as we get to the car.
“Yeah,” I say in the best nonchalant voice I can muster as I open her door. My attempt falls flat as a pancake, and she glances at me as she sits down. I try for a smile and shut her door, well aware the time has come.
When I sit down in the driver seat, I don’t put the keys in the ignition. Instead, I stare at the steering wheel for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to ask what needs to be asked without making it sound accusatory.
“You’re killing me, Troy,” Lyla says in a nervous voice. “Just say it.”
“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head at myself for stressing her out.
“You’re breaking up with me,” she says, half-statement, half-question.
My gaze flies to hers. “What? No.”
