Page 65 of Just Friends Forever
And now I have to tell Stevie.
Once I hang up with Lyla, I take a second to gather my thoughts. It doesn’t do much good. They’re scattered like the candy from a piñata. I don’t want Stevie to be blindsided by this, though, so I need to tell her.
My biggest concern beyond that is what this will do to things between us. I lied to her, plain and simple, even if it was done to make her life easier and less complicated.
Clearly, it failed. Things are officially complicated. They’ve got the officialcomplicatedseal and everything.
I head down the stairs and into the foyer, then knock on Stevie’s door. I tap my thumb against my legs, trying to prepare myself. She’ll be mad. Of course she will. Not only does the media know I don’t have a girlfriend, they know I lied about it. Or maybe they think Stevie and I agreed to lie about it together to hide ourconnection, whatever that word means.
The door opens, and Stevie smiles brightly at me, dressed in cutoff jean shorts and a black V-neck t-shirt. Her smile wavers. “You okay?”
“Um, yeah. And no. Can I come in?”
She nods, worry displacing the light in her eyes, then leads the way down into Austin’s apartment.
I glance at the cardboard version of him, wishing I could switch him places right now, that my worries could be which songs to play at performances rather than whether I’ll have a best friend in five minutes.
But putting it off is only going to worry Stevie more. She already seems to know it’s serious. She’s gone straight to the couch, tucking one leg beneath her and gripping her ankle with both hands.
I sit down beside her and sigh. “I have something to tell you.”
“Okay,” she says, her voice full of uncertainty.
I hesitate for one more second, but I don’t want to freak her out more than is necessary. “Lyla and I aren’t together.”
22
STEVIE
It takesme a second to register what Troy’s saying. He and Lyla aren’t together. He doesn’t have a girlfriend. Troy is available. Single. A bachelor. Flying solo. Unattached.
I’m a human thesaurus, and those words are flitting around my brain like delightful butterflies.
“When did …?” I don’t finish.
He takes in another breath. “The night Tori and Siena came to hang out with you. We were never really officially together in the first place, but that was the night it ended.”
I stare at him for a second while my mind does the math. Not exact math. Just an estimate because, truthfully, the days since I got here are hard to tell apart. But it’s definitely been a few days since that night.
Suddenly, it hits me. He and Lyla broke up a few days ago, and he didn’t tell me. This whole time, I’ve thought he had a girlfriend, which apparently wasnevertrue. We’ve talked about her multiple times since then, and he never said anything. It makes sense now why she hasn’t been over, why Troy never has plans with her, why he’s never texting or talking to her on the phone.
What doesn’t make sense is why he would keep it from me. We’re supposed to be best friends.
“It gets worse,” he says, looking grim.
My heartbeat kicks at my ribs even harder. “Worse how?” As far as dating relationships go, I thought breakups were as “worse” as it could get.
“The media found out I’m single. They’re running with it.” He hands me his phone, and I take it slowly. My mind is operating at the speed of light, while my body is channeling my inner sloth.
My eyes scan the headline and the accompanying photo of Troy and me in the car together, then they shift to the article itself. I don’t even read all of it. It’s not necessary to get the very not-subtle implication: Troy and I pretended his relationship with Lyla was ongoing so we could keep ours a secret. That’s not even the end of it, though. They think Troy and I have been in that secret relationship for a while and that it’s the reason Curtis and I got a divorce.
I give his phone back to him, too frustrated to read more. The gossip is annoying and false. It usually is. But that’s not what’s got me riled up.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He turns his phone off, grimacing. “I should have, and I’m sorry I didn’t. Things just happened in such a weird way. When I got home from being with Lyla, you guys were asleep, and I didn’t really want to talk about it in front of my sisters anyway. I planned to tell you in the morning, but then before I could, you told the paparazzi I had a girlfriend. Telling you rightthen,with cameras in our faces, didn’t seem like a good time.”
“And after?” My frown deepens. I just don’t understand. “Why not at least let me know when we were alone again?”
