Page 25 of Just Friends Forever
When they get out of the car, I fix my gaze on Stevie. Is she overwhelmed? Did she enjoy herself? The way she lets out a long breath makes me think it’s the former. I’m smacking myself for putting her in this situation. Or for letting Stevie invite Lyla over for ice cream, but what could I do?
I’m a terrible person for even thinking these kinds of things about the girl I’m dating. It’s nothing against Lyla, though. She just doesn’t really understand the situation she’s stepped into. How could she? To the untrained eye, Stevie doesn’t appear to be struggling under the weight of a divorce.
We head inside and up to my apartment, and after putting away the perishable groceries, I pull out the ice cream scoop.
Lyla pats the couch, and Stevie smiles and takes the seat next to her.
“So, where will you live now?” Lyla asks.
My jaw tightens. Does this mean they talked about the divorce in the car? I’m officially the worst security guard in history. If only I’d had my earpiece.
“Um, I’m not sure yet,” Stevie says. Her voice is light, but I can hear the anxious undertone in it. “Troy’s been nice enough to let me stay here for nowandto help me hopefully find a place of my own.” She smiles at me gratefully, and I give an awkward thumbs up with the hand holding the ice cream scooper.
“Oh,” Lyla says. “You’re stayinghere?”
Stevie and I catch eyes, and both of us start talking at the same time in a stumbling jumble of words. We stop talking at the same time too.
Stevie laughs nervously. “Nothere, here. In the other apartment.”
“Oh,” Lyla says, offering a smile that looks slightly forced. I don’t know the subtleties of her expressions well enough yet to be sure, though.
“Magic Shell?” I hurry to offer, eager for a subject change.
“You have Magic Shell?” Stevie says.
I scoff. “Do I have Magic Shell?What kind of question is that? It’s at the top of my weekly grocery list.”
“I haven’t had it since… well, since last time I saw you, probably.”
“I’ll take that as a yes for you, then,” I say, squeezing a generous amount all over Stevie’s bowl. I glance at Lyla, who’s wearing that same, not-quite-right smile. Yikes. Definitely forced.
“What about you?” I ask Lyla.
“Sure,” she says. “I haven’t had it since I was a kid.”
I shake my head as I squeeze the bottle, making sure to spread the shell evenly over the scoops of ice cream. “You’ve both been deprived.” I wink at her, and she smiles more readily.
I wipe my hands on the towel hanging over the oven handle, then stick spoons in the bowls. Throwing the towel over my forearm like a butler, I bring the bowls to the couch. “Two heaping bowls of ice cream, my ladies,” I say, handing them over and bowing. “Complete with the decadent modern wonder, Magic Shell.”
“Thank you,” Lyla says, holding my gaze with a warm look in her eyes. It’s so warm I’m tempted to see what Stevie makes of it. But I don’t, because why would that even matter? I head back to the kitchen to scoop a bowl for myself.
“So, you’ve been friends since high school,” Lyla says. “Did you meet in a class?”
“Yeah, Stevie,” I say significantly. “Tell her how we met.”
Stevie covers her mouthful of ice cream with a hand, but I can see by the crease next to her eyes that she’s smiling.
“Hey, it’s more embarrassing foryouthan for me,” she says once she’s swallowed. She turns her body toward Lyla. “It was actually in junior high. First week of school, and we had science class together. We were making Oobleck that day.”
“Oobleck?” Lyla asks.
“Corn starch and water,” I say, shutting the ice cream container and putting it back in the freezer. The memory of that day is still vivid for me, even a decade and a half later. “It makes a weird paste that’s somehow both solid and runny.”
“Non-Newtonian fluid, Troy,” Stevie says in a censuring voice.
“My bad. I was slightly distracted that day, as you may remember.” I take my ice cream and sit in the spot on Lyla’s right rather than in the one between her and Stevie.
Stevie shakes her head and turns back to Lyla. “We got assigned as partners. You should have seen him back then, Lyla. He had this mop of hair that was veryBaby-era Justin Bieber.” She swoops her hand from the top of her head and pretends to plaster it down across her forehead.
