Page 3 of Just Friends Forever
I’m not going to wimp out. It’s time to be a man, to say it out loud and put it out in the open instead of letting it fester inside me.
“I like you, Stevie.”
She gives a breathy laugh. It’s half-amused, half-unsure, like she knows there’s more than one way to interpret my second-grader confession.
“I sure hope so,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. There’s a hint of wariness behind it, though. “I think most people like their best friends. It’s pretty standard.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Her smile wavers, and she tucks her hair behind her ear as Austin’s voice amps up, singing the bridge.
“I mean, yeah,” I say, “you’re my best friend. But I like you more than that.” I look at her intently, like if I look close enough, maybe I’ll see some sign she’s been hiding the same secret as me all these years. “Have you ever thought about giving things a try between us?”
She rubs her lips together. “Troy, I …” She glances toward the stage, then back, looking down at the ground. There’s silence for a few seconds—seconds that take years off my life—then she looks up, and her shoulders lift. “I’m sorry. I just don’t feel that way about you.” Her voice is quiet, barely audible as my heart plummets into my shoes.
I’m not sure why. What was I expecting? It wasn’t like this was a slam dunk situation. Did I really choose to confess my feelings for her while Austin sings lyrics likeall the while, my heart being drawn to you? Read the room, Troy.
I look away, and she grabs my hands. “You’re my best friend in the whole world, Troy, and I care about yousomuch, I just …”
I nod. She doesn’t see me that way. She never has. She never will—not if she hasn’t in the years we’ve known each other.
“I’m so sorry,” she says in an unsteady voice.
I let out a big sigh, keeping my eyes on the people playing chicken in the pool. Why couldn’t I have madethatmy graduation night memory instead of this?
I force myself to face Stevie again, and the pain in her eyes tugs at my hurting heart. I don’t want her to feel bad. It’s not like it’s her fault. You can’t force yourself to like someone that way, just like you can’t force yourselfnotto like someone that way. I, of all people, know that.
“It’s okay, Stevie,” I say, forcing myself to smile at her and squeeze her hand. “It’s no big deal.”
She nods, her eyes searching mine, like she’s trying to gauge whether I’m really okay, whether to believe me.
I have to give her a better reason to believe me, even if my heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself right now. The last thing I want is this failure of a conversation to ruin our friendship. I might not be able to have Stevie in all the ways I want her, but I don’t want to give up what wedohave. She’s too important to me, too much a part of me and my life.
“I feel so bad,” she says, clenching her eyes shut.
“Don’t,” I say. “Really.”
Maybe this is for the best. Now that I have closure, maybe I’ll be able to settle into our friendship in a way I haven’t been able to do yet. I’ll be able to accept and appreciate instead of hoping and pining.
I’m praying that’s true and that, with time, this feeling inside me will go away.
I just hope I haven’t scared her off.
I chuckle and look around the party. “I think I’m just feeling weird because of graduation and all that. Lots of change. It’s got my head all jumbled up.”
“Yeah, for sure,” she says. “I get it. Change is hard. I’ve been thinking a lot about how different things will be. But at least we’ll be going to college together.” She doesn’t sound too sure about whether that’ll be a good thing now. She’s probably worried I’ll ambush her again with another confession.
I won’t. I really won’t. This was a definitely one-time thing.
I get the sense these next few minutes could make or break what our relationship looks like going forward. I just threw a wrench in the works, and now I have to yank it out and get the gears rolling again. Grease the wheels. I can’t be weird around her. I can’t sulk. Ihaveto shrug off the rejection and roll right back into things for my own sake—and for hers.
“I don’t know,” I say, clenching my teeth as I look at her. “We’ll see if College Stevie is cool enough to be best friends with College Troy. I plan on beingverypopular, just so you know.” I swipe my hair to the side and look off into the distance, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Really?” she says, her brows shooting up and her wariness fading.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, maintaining my pose. “The popularest.”
“Uh-huh,” she says with amusement. “That’s really good to know, Troy. Very glad you warned me. So, just out of curiosity, what’ll happen to that plan if, whenever I see you on campus, I make it my mission to dothis?” She shoots a hand to my hair and musses it for a split second, then takes off running.
