Page 24 of You've Always Been Mine

Because as much as it hurts for my feelings to be unrequited, Derek Lawson was once my very best friend in the world. And I’m not going to lie, I miss our friendship. I miss having someone in my life who knows me almost as well as I know myself—who gets me.

That’s why happiness courses through me from head to toe when he nods and says, “Sure, Live. I’d love to go.”

CHAPTER 12

Derek

I standin front of the smudged, floor-length mirror in my bedroom, contemplating my clothing choice while wondering if going out tonight is a good idea. I didn’t hesitate to accept Liv’s offer to join her at Comedy Fest. My instinct to accept any and every opportunity to spend time with her trumped all the reasons I might have to keep my distance. But now, as I debate which shade of blue shirt makes my eyes “pop”, knowing my eyes are the feature Olivia complimented the most in the past, I’m second-guessing if going is wise.

My feelings for Olivia are still present. Hell, I’d even say they’ve grown. She’s more confident than when we were kids, and her beauty knows no bounds. And seeing her on a date the other night felt like a knife to the heart. I have no right to be jealous. She and I were never an item, and I’ve dated my fair share of women in LA, but none of them ever came close to how I feel about Olivia.

I mean,felt.

Damnit. I’m so screwed.

I should keep my distance from Liv. After all, I’m supposed to go back to California at the end of the month. The last thing I need to do is complicate things between us even further.

But despite all the reasons telling me not to, I find myself sitting beside Olivia at a comedy show in the Brass Handle less than an hour later, and it’s impossible to ignore how good my childhood best friend looks in a pair of fitted blue jeans and heeled boots. Or how beautiful her brown hair looks curled around her angular face.

I don’t know how I’m going to get out of a week of evening shows at her side without doing something stupid like confessing my one-sided feelings for her.

The first act ends. The comedian walks off the stage to a round of applause, and the excitement in the room grows as the time for the main act approaches. Jacob Edwards is a popular comic and regular cast member on a popular sketch comedy show. He’s the headliner for tonight’s event before he returns to New York City to prep for the show on Friday, and I’m pretty sure he’s one of Avery’s clients. I’m a shitty brother for not knowing for sure. Dr. Cho accuses me of not being in touch with my family enough. He says I keep my distance to avoid letting them see me struggle. I hate to admit he’s right, but I guess that’s what I pay him for.

The MC announces the next act who isn’t Jacob Edwards. A woman in her mid-thirties comes out. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve seen her before. She’s probably made appearances in a popular sitcom or something.

Her set begins with topical humor, addressing different aspects of today’s political and social environment. Typical stuff. Then, about five minutes in, she begins to interact with members of the audience. Immediately, I’m on edge. The Brass Handle isn’t a large venue. There are probably less than fifty people in the audience, and Olivia and I are in the second row, centerstage. The chances of the comic interacting with us are high, and there’s nothing I hate more than having attention drawn to me. Especially when it’s unexpected.

Sure enough, not two jokes later, the woman’s gaze focuses on us through metal-brimmed glasses. “Now, here is a couple that belongs on the cover of a magazine.” I feel the audience members around us look our way, and it takes effort not to slouch down in my seat.

“How long have you two been together?”

Beside me, Olivia fidgets ever so slightly, but she sounds at ease when she responds, “We aren’t dating. We’re just friends.”

“Bull shit.” The audience laughs. “There’s no way people as good-looking as you are ‘just friends’.” She uses air quotes around the phrase.

Olivia laughs awkwardly. “Well, we are.”

“There’s no way,” the comedian repeats. “Tell me you two have banged at least once.”

Fantasies of twisted limbs, satin sheets, and Olivia’s brown hair tangled in my fingers fill my head, torturing me.

Beside me, I hear a tiny gasp. I don’t need to look to know Olivia is blushing. My face is red, too, but it’s for a completely different reason.

There’s nothing funny about public humiliation, and I feel my temper rising each second I am forced to endure the room’s attention.

The comedian takes in our silence and squeals excitedly, “Oh my god. You totally have. Can’t say I blame you, girl. That guy is a hunk.” Her gaze zeroes in on me. Her forehead creases. “Wait. I know you. How do I know you?”

“It’s Derek Lawson,” someone behind me hollers.

My anger turns up a notch.

Recognition flickers over the comedian’s expression. “Oh my god. You’re that hunky tech genius out in California.” She looksback at Olivia with a wink. “You go, girl. You two would make beautiful babies, and you’d be rich too.”

Olivia stiffens.

I reach my breaking point.

“Very funny,” I deadpan. “Next joke.”

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