Page 74 of Lessons in Faking
The tone in her voice made me risk a glance at her. Double-taking when I... found an amused smile on her lips? Her pierced brow raised.
“I do not like McCarthy.” She actually shuddered at the thought. “God, no.”
“But you said you were jealous.” Why else would she be—“Oh.”
Oh.
Oh, Jesus.
“Wait—” I continued, but she didn’t.
“Listen,” she began, avoiding my gaze. “I swore to myself I wouldn’t tell you any of this until I was over this—over you. And I am,” she added. “When you said that thing about the jealous girlfriend”—guilt twisted my gut inside out—“it’s the first time I noticed how much this stupid crush was affecting our friendship. I didn’t want to lose you, but in order to get over this, I couldn’t just—” She shook her head, defeat in the sound of her sigh. “I wanted to apologize an hour after I’d stormed off. But I thought... If I could just have some time. You know? A few days, maybe a week. But then it’d beenweeks, Thanksgiving around the corner, and I just missed youmore. I didn’t want to leave you, I swear—”
She exhaled loudly, eyes finally finding me. I wasn’t sure what she saw in my face. I, for once, couldn’t form a coherent sentence. My mind was too much of a mess for a task so challenging.
Had it been obvious? Had I just been too focused on myself to notice my best friend developing feelings for me? How ironic that I accused my brother of being too selfish to notice anyone else around him when I clearly wasn’t any better.
I still felt too confused, too dumb, too guilty to give an acceptable answer. Like,Hey, don’t worry about it. You can’tchoose that type of stuff, and I’m flattered.Or,Thank you for telling me.Or,Oh my God, I had no idea. I’m so sorry for being an oblivious asshole who’s been telling you all about the bad sex she had with her ex-boyfriend.
I felt the worst about that. Every time I’d talked to her about my love life. My ex-boyfriends.Sex.
Her voice drew me back to reality. The one in which she’d gotten over me, apparently. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. That’s what she’d said, right? “But if you would’ve come home with me, I’d have been back to square one, I think. Even with—I wasn’t sure—” she stuttered.
“With what?”
Wren swallowed, and I think she was... blushing? I wasn’t entirely sure because I didn’t know she was capable of that. But her cheeks were as red as the HBU logo. “I met someone,” she blurted. “I think.”
“Youthink?”
She slid from the armrest she’d sat against and onto the couch, and I followed her lead, getting comfortable for what could very well become a long conversation. One I looked forward to. But Wren shook her head with a laugh. “Later. I’m trying to apologize right now, you nosy ass. The list is so long. First of all, I’ve been a dick for the past few weeks. Maybe it makes more sense now that you... know, but that doesn’t excuse how childish it was. Moving on: Thanksgiving—”
I didn’t like the way my stomach clenched just at the mention of Thanksgiving, which was the only reason Iinterrupted her apology. “You needed your space,” I said quickly. You can’t get over someone when you live with them, especially not if you also bring them home over the holidays.
“I needed my space, but I still could’ve handled this whole thing so. Much. Better. Instead of just up and leaving without so much as a note. Fuck, this is so bad.” Her eyes jumped back to me, almost panicked. “I really am sorry. So,sosorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Well.” I cleared my throat, giving her a gentle smile. The serious distress radiating off her made me unnecessarily nervous. “You did leave me with McCarthy, didn’t you? So that’s... certainly something.” Hearing the hint of amusement in my voice, she gave a small smile.
“He behaved?” she wondered, and the choice of words made a single laugh fly out of me.
I shrugged. “Too much.”
“Good.” She hummed, then looked back at me. “I think?”
“I’m not so sure.”
“At least,” she mused, “he’s not as bad for you as I initially thought.”
Maybe. Maybe not. I didn’t really want to think more about that statement, because if Dylan was good for me, where would that leave us? With a whole lot of shit to figure out. “So you met someone.” Yeah, okay, the change of topic wasn’t smooth at all—but Wren was blushing again, and it threw her off enough not to notice my bad attempt.
She cleared her throat. “Everything was so weirdbetween us, you know? I felt bad because my stupid feelings were ruining our friendship and—”
“Ifelt bad because I thought I was ruining our friendship.”
“I really missed you.” There was a pause, a long look that saidI’m sorryeven though, I realized, she had nothing to apologize for. “Everything felt so lonely. Dinner. Walking to class. Studying. It seems unfair to say, but Laila was just... there.”
“Laila!” I gasped. Mike’s cousin. Long blond hair, the sweetest voice, the kindest blue eyes.
Wren shushed me with an amused glare. “I told her, like, the second time we hung out. About our fight. About my feelings. Isn’t that absurd?” Usually, it took Wren at least twelve business months to open up. “But she listened. She got it. She said, ‘I’ve been there. It sucks.’ She helped me sort through the mess in my head until we weren’t talking about you anymore, but the book she last read and my favorite foods and when we’d see each other again.”
