Page 75 of Just Friends Forever
Today, I’m one of them. Because Stevie’s gone, I even do it shirtless. I’ve never pushed myself so hard, much less twice in a day. The worst part is seeing the vein that’s usually just visible on my forehead, reaching back on my shiny, sweaty scalp.
I look weird without hair. I mean, I always knew my hair was a key feature, but now Iknowknow. I’m Samson. Without my hair, I’m nothing.
I wasn’t lying to Stevie when I told her I hate it. I do. But her surprise and making her laugh? That was worth it.
I’m well-aware I’ve reached new levels of patheticism. I don’t think that’s a word, but the only reason is that the world has been waiting for me to provide the best example of it, to pioneer the path. It wasn’t enough for me to just confess my feelings to Stevie eight years ago. That fell into normal, if excruciatingly humiliating, levels of patheticism.
With this hideously bald head, however, I have reached the top tier of the scale—and can use my own scalp as a shining trophy.
I hop in the shower around ten and wonder if I should be using shampoo or body wash for my head now. Or Rogaine.
I’ve just gotten into my plaid pajama pants when I hear the car pull in. I hesitate for a second, trying to find the line between overeager obsessor and best friend.
I’m pretty sure it’s normal for a friend to ask how a date went, so I meet Stevie in the foyer.
“How’d it go?” I ask right as she shuts the door. The question might be friend-zone material, but the delivery definitely crossed into overeager territory.
“Good,” she says. “I mean, terribly, if you’re asking how I did at golf. The guy should be at the Masters Tournament of mini-golf.”
“But he wasn’t annoying about it, right?”
“No. He was nice.” She shrugs.
A shrug is good, right? Well, not forhim, maybe.
She pulls her purse from her shoulder. “I’m just trying to figure out the dating thing again, you know? It’s weird, but I imagine that’s normal after… everything.”
“Yeah, definitely. It also doesn’t help that dating is weird anyway.”
She scrunches her nose. “It is, isn’t it?”
I grimace. “’Fraid so.”
She sighs and heads for her door. “Whatever it is, it makes me tired. I’m going to bed.”
“Glow-in-the-dark mini-golf will really take it out of you,” I say, trying not to feel disappointed there’ll be no post-date hangout together. “Good night.”
“’Night.”
I stare at the door after she shuts it, wondering if Stevie would come home from a date withmefeeling so tired and weird.
I don’t think she would, but I’m too afraid to ask for that chance again. I promised myself I never would.
* * *
“You could always goin my trunk,” I say as we finish up our workout the next morning.
“Your trunk?” Stevie repeats. As we started discussing her accompanying me to the open house with Evelyn, we realized we wouldn’t have the protection of a gated community if any of the paparazzi decided to follow us in the car.
“Could be fun,” I say.
“Could be the worst thing I’ve ever done,” she counters, racking her weights.
“Also a distinct possibility,” I agree, racking my set too.
She looks at me for a few seconds. “I’m in.”
I glance at her. “What?”
