Page 24 of Just Friends Forever
I can feel my cheeks heating up. You’d think I’d be used to this sort of thing by now. I remind myself that, at one point in my life, I would have been doe-eyed too if I’d met someone famous. I’m sure I would have been nervous and said cringe-worthy things. That sort of excitement wears off quite a bit once you realize how the sausage is made, as it were. “Thanks, Lyla. That’s really kind of you.”
“My favorite is that blue off-the-shoulder dress you wore in Paris.” Her eyes widen. “Stunning.”
All I can do is smile because I never wore that dress. It’s one of the AI images Curtis’s team generated a couple of months ago to keep the fire of public opinion burning brightly in our favor.
“I didn’t know you were such a celebrity enthusiast,” Troy says to Lyla.
She lifts her shoulders as if to sayguilty. “Not as big as Tina,” she says. “She could tell you every designer Stephanie’s worn in the past two years, I bet.”
“Wow,” Troy says. We catch eyes, and I can tell he recognizes I’m uncomfortable. I got pretty good at public appearances over the course of my marriage, but now that I’m divorced, it feels… weird. I never deserved fame, and now, more than ever, I feel like an imposter.
Lyla whispers something in Troy’s ear, and his mouth slowly widens into a smile as they share a glance.
That tug in my chest happens again. It shouldn’t be this hard to watch people in love.
“Oh, shoot,” I say, reaching into the cart. “I think the ice cream is starting to melt.” It’s not. It’s fine. It’s been in the cart for three minutes.
“Oh, what kind of ice cream?” Lyla peeks in. “Mint brownie? Yum!”
Dang. I should’ve said the spinach was wilting. But it’s too late. There’s only one thing I can do. My tongue resists, but I force it to my will like a Jedi. “You should come over and have some.”
Because what’s better than getting a divorce and being a third wheel the next day?
8
TROY
I thinkI’m dating a tabloid junkie.
That’s what I’m gathering as we walk out to the parking lot. Lyla’s questions for Stevie make it crystal clear she follows her life prettily heavily. I shouldn’t be surprised. Stevie and Curtis have been a lot like Brangelina. I’m just bracing myself for the moment Lyla brings up the divorce. But so far, so good.
On the one hand, it’s nice to see her be so kind to Stevie. There was a second there in the store when I thought I saw a very different emotion in her eyes. But she’s all smiles and chattiness as we approach my car. In fact, I’m not sure she even remembers me back here with the cart. I reallycouldbe security, given the safe distance I’m walking behind them.
Stevie stops just in front of the hood of my car, and Lyla follows suit. Stevie’s got her characteristic warm smile as she listens to Lyla talking animatedly.
Why do I feel so weird seeing them together like this? It’s got to be because it’s a very unexpected collision of past and present—the girl I used to love, and the girl I… like? That word seems so lame, but I haven’t known Lyla long enough to use any other one. In fact, as I look at her, it’s hard to imagine feeling more attached to her than I feel to Stevie.
Whatever you want to call it, the sight of them together is doing weird things to my brain and heart.
“Is that okay?” Lyla looks at me, waiting for an answer.
“What?” I have no idea what she asked, but my guilty conscience is desperate to give the impression I was listening and not comparing her to my best friend. “Yeah, yeah. Definitely.”
She clasps her hands together in excitement. “My car is just over there”—she points, then turns back to me. “We’ll be just behind you.” She comes over, goes up on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek, and my eyes dart to Stevie. Apparently, I just gave the okay for them to drive together.
I clench my teeth to convey that I didn’t mean to put her in a weird position. Stevie just chuckles like she knows my mind was elsewhere. As long as she doesn’t know where it was…
“I’ll followyou,” I say. If I’m fully embracing this security gig, it only makes sense. Is it insane of me to be suddenly wishing I’d done a background check on Lyla? Just to make sure she hasn’t made a habit of kidnapping celebrities?
Yup. Completely insane. But I’ve learned a lot about Lyla today, which isn’t surprising given the fact that we’ve only known each other three weeks. For example, I’ve always driven when we’re together, so I don’t even know what sort of driver Lyla is.
Lyla shrugs. “Okay.”
As I load the groceries into the back of my car, I watch the two of them walk to Lyla’s Ford Focus, waiting for some crazy stalker to jump out from between cars. But they make the twenty-foot trek without mishap, and once they’re in their seats, I let out a breath, shut the trunk, and get into my car.
My concerns about Lyla as a driver turn out to be somewhat justified. She doesn’t fully stop at red lights before turning right, and she uses her blinker as sparingly as Matthew McConaughey uses deodorant.
If nothing else, I hope Stevie meeting Lyla has reassured her that she has nothing to worry about from me. I love her in the most platonic way possible.
