Page 66 of Just Friends Forever
He rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands between them, his focus there. “Stevie, do you remember when I invited you to come stay here?”
“Yeah, of course,” I say, not understanding the connection.
“At first, you said no.”
I think back on that day. It’s a whirlwind in my brain. So much happened after such a long time of nothing at all happening. The texts with Troy, the finalization of the divorce, Troy coming over, packing to come stay with him. But I do remember saying no.
“Whydidyou?” he asks. It’s not accusatory, but I can tell from the way he asks that he’s proving a point.
I don’t say anything. I’m too embarrassed by my reasoning, by the conceit that led me to assume Troy might have ulterior motives in inviting me. I could lie about it, make up some excuse related to the divorce, but I don’t want to lie to him.
“I saw it in your eyes, Stevie,” he says, saving me the necessity of answering. “You were thinking about that stupid day all those years ago when I told you we should be more than friends. Only once you found out about Lyla did you change your mind.”
He lets that sink in, and so do I.That stupid day, he calls it. That’s how he feels about the day I’ve been wishing I could do over.
“I should’ve told you the truth,” he says. “That’s on me, and I really am sorry I didn’t. I thought I was helping you—you already had so much to deal with, I didn’t want you to worry I might… come onto you or something. And then it just kind of spun out of control. I was worried that if I told you why Lyla broke up with me, it would only make things worse.” He shakes his head, staring at his hands.
“Whydidshe break up with you?” And why is it disappointing to me that it washerwho did the breaking up? Does he wish they were still together?
“She was jealous.” He shakes his head again. “She couldn’t believe there wasn’t something between us.”
I try to breathe normally. The frustration in his voice makes it clear: the thought that there’s more between us is annoying, a nuisance.
There’s silence as I process.
I’m as much to blame as he is, if not more so. He accurately assessed my hesitation to come stay with him, and when things ended with Lyla, I messed everything up by capitalizing on his relationship to placate the media. All this time, all he wanted was for me to believe one thing: that he’s not in love with me. That he’s my best friend andonlymy best friend.
“I understand,” I say quietly, reaching to put a reassuring hand on his back, only to pull it away again. Do best friends put hands on each other’s backs? I curse my atrophied social skills. “I was just sad you didn’t tell me because”—I shrug—“I thought we were best friends. Weare, right?”
He looks at me, searching my face. This hesitation doesn’t bode well, not to mention how weird it feels to be talking about friendship when my mind has ventured so far ahead of that. My brain is Lewis and Clark, exploring new territory.
No, my brain is Lewis, exploring on its own because Clark isn’t interested.
“Best friends always.” He sits up and pulls me into a hug—a hug I could stay in forever if he’d let me.
* * *
Tori
I’m just pulling up. You ready for this?
Stevie
So ready. You’re a lifesaver.
I turnoff the curling iron and look in the mirror. It’s been a while since I’ve curled my hair properly—and even longer since I’ve curled it myself. When you’re stuck inside for months at a time, you lose basic life skills like hair styling.
But I think I did a decent job. I may have to tweak a few things once I see Tori, but that’s okay.
There’s a knock on the front door upstairs, and I realize a kink in our plans. I can’t open the door. It’ll ruin the ruse.
“Troy!” I call once I make it to the foyer.
His footsteps sound on the stairs, then his door opens. “Who’s here?”
“Tori,” I say. “Can you open it?”
His gaze lingers on me for a second before he obeys. “I thought you had a date.”
