Page 14 of Be Your Somebody
Shit.
“Who areyou?” I hear Max reply.
“Where’s Avery? I need to talk to her,” Cas responds.
“Yeah, I’m not letting you in until you answer my question,” Max responds. Cool, calm, and collected, that’s Max for you.
Bri and I exchange a worried expression. Cas sounds like a man suddenly cut off in traffic. I need to go over there before anything happens.
“Oh wait, you're Cas, aren’t you? I’m Max. Nice to meet you,” I hear him say. Max reaches out his hand toward Cas. I can’t see him, but I can just imagine his goofy, lopsided grin. Cas looks down at his hand, then up towards his face with murder dancing beneath his eyes.
“Get your fucking hand out of my face,” Cas demands.
Yeah, now’s probably a good time to intervene. I walk towards the door, clearing my throat before placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “I got it from here, thanks,” I say.
Max searches my face for any sign that I might need his help. I shake my head, silently communicating that I got this. Max nods his head and places a quick kiss on my cheek before walking off. I focus on Cas, who tracked the gesture and looks like I punched him in the gut. We stand in the most awkward game of chicken I’ve ever played with neither of us willing to make the first move.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, but it’s like talking to a brick wall. Cas looks as if he’s completely dissociated. I don’t think he even heard my question. I open my mouth to repeat the question and notice Cas jolting out of whatever trance he is in. He turns and walks away, but not before I see a flash of hurt cross his handsome face. I watch him leave, confused as hell at this whole exchange. With my back against the door, I stare at Bri in shock.
“What just happened?” Bri asks.
“I have no fucking clue,” I respond.
“Huh, weird.” Bri shrugs before collecting the empty wrappers and tossing them in the trash. She’s pulling on her sweater when she turns to face with a determined expression. “Hey, I found this ad on Facebook the other day and thought of you. I immediately clicked the link and printed out the flier. This has your name written all over it, Ave.”
Bri is great at many things, but subtlety isn’t one of them. Case in point, the smile on her face tells me she didn’t stumble across whatever she’s holding accidentally. My eyes scan the top line:Songwriting contest: winner gets to sign on with a record label.All the blood drains from my face and I sway from the sudden dizziness. My throat threatens to close in on itself and my entire body feels like I’m wearing the world's itchiest sweater. I can’t do this. I just can’t. I’m not a songwriter anymore. But how do I tell my best friend that I’ve lost my ability to write? Every time I take a pen to paper, my mind is blank.
“Wow, Bri, uh, thanks for bringing me this. I’ll think about entering.” My voice wavers a little, ultimately giving up my calm facade. I hope she doesn’t notice, but of course, Bri, being perceptive, picks up on it.
“Hey, what’s going on? I thought you’d be jumping for joy, but you look like I told you that you have to give a speech in your underwear. You okay?” she asks.
“Oh yeah, I’m fine. It just, well, it caught me off guard, is all.” I slow down my words, hoping to convince her I’m calm when I’m anything but. She studies me for a moment with a frown on her face. She doesn’t believe me, but she’s letting it go. I let out an internal sigh of relief.
Hours after Bri and Max leave, I hyperfocus on what happened with Cas. He demanded to see me, but the second I came to the door, he walked away, disassociated. I’m fighting a losing battle with exhaustion, so I head upstairs.
The sound of crinkling paper as I open my bedroom door reminds me of another thing I’m obsessing over. I let out a mournful sigh before opening the door with my other hand. I put the competition flier face down on my dresser and cover it with books so I can forget it exists. I knew it would be another sleepless night as I lay in bed. I feel like I’m at the part in a scary movie where ominous music alerts the audience that something terrible is about to happen. I'm unsure what or when it’ll happen, but I know I won’t like it. A deep sigh escapes my mouth before I turn off my bedside lamp and hope the sleep gods grant me a peaceful rest.
Chapter 11
Cassidy
Wannabe Ken Doll
Whatthefuckjusthappened? I went over to apologize, and when the door opened, there was a random man. Who was that guy, and why the fuck was he in Avery’s house? I have no right to be this pissed off, but I am. I thought we could talk and start to make everything okay again. I didn’t know she’d be dating some wannabe Ken doll. Just thinking about that man makes my blood hot with rage. He doesn’t deserve Avery. No onedoes.
My gram knows something is up when I enter the house and slam the door. I feel the heat of her glare burning into my back, but I just continue walking away.
“I know I'm not supposed to do that. I'm sorry. I don't need a lecture from you right now,” I say without turning around, stomping up the stairs towards my room where I slam yet another door. I'm pacing my bedroom floor like a cheetah chasing after its prey. What does Avery evenseein that dude? The guy is a total bro. Anyone with eyes can see that. Avery needs to be with someone who gets her and sees her for all she is. Someone who makes her laugh. Who will hold her when she cries. Someone like—someone like me.
I have loved Avery since I was a teenager. I just never said anything because I didn’t want to ruin the best friendship I’ve ever had. I settled on only being her friend because having her in that capacity is better than no Avery at all. I always wonder what would have happened if I dared to go for more with her, but fear always won. I almost went for it during a Fourth of July block party one year, but I chickened out at the last minute.
Fourth of July Block Party. Age fourteen
Our neighborhood had been throwing a Fourth of July block party for as long as I could remember. There were so many different activities to choose from. A dunk tank sits in the center of the blocked-off street, and a few spots down, children laugh as they get their faces painted. Towards the end of our neighborhood, there is a makeshift dance floor where couples are swaying under fairy lights. Avery and I were currently getting our faces painted and decided it would be fun to choose the other’s design. For her, I chose a cat because the girl wasobsessedwith them. For me, well, she decided to be funny and chose a unicorn. So while she walked around with something that fit her personality, I had to walk around with a damn unicorn and watch as people pointed and laughed at me, including Avery.
My gaze flitted between the dance floor and the girl next to me, trying to gain the courage to ask her to dance. Why was this so fucking hard? Embarrassment and self-consciousness had held me back from going for it. She’d probably laugh at me or think it meant more than it did. But would that be so bad?
Avery looped her arm through mine and rested her head against my shoulder as we walked, causing familiar sparks to flow. Being this close to her felt nice, but of course, being me, I ruined it by being awkward.
