Maybe I’m missing Bree so damn bad, I can barely stand it. And yet, I still can’t get it together enough to face her and talk it out. She seems to be just fine with this arrangement too.
I thought my heart would shrivel up completely when I saw her in the lunchroom. Fletch wanted me to go talk to her, sit, and eat lunch like we always have, but I couldn’t do it. I can’t take another second of the polite silence or her barely being able to look me in the eye.
So, yeah. Now I’m new friends with Grayson fucking Lancaster, and it’s bizarre. I don’t even know how to explain how insanely weird it is, but the guy is under my skin. I can admit he’s been in my thoughts lately. A total enigma. The cocky jock I’ve always thought he was is somehow morphing into this guy who cares about others and used to draw so well, my favorite teacher reminisces about his time in her class. A guy who, for whatever reason, suddenly won’t leave this total loner alone.
Who I’ve caught staring at me more than once. Shit. Why can’t I get him out of my head? It makes no sense at all, but nothing much does these days.
A knock sounds on my apartment door, and I roll my eyes, climbing up from the couch. “It’s only 7:30, fuckface.” I pull open the door, wearing an amused grin on my face. But it falls when I see Bree standing there with a confused look on hers.
“Fuckface? Really?”
“Hey. Not you.” I stand in my doorway, stunned and staring at my best friend, who looks nervous to be here. Bree. Looks nervous to be at my home. That’s so fucked up.
“Hi.” Her blue eyes glance behind me, then land on my face, and I swear for a moment, my knees feel weak because it seems like forever since we’ve made eye contact.
“What are you doing here?” Shit. I hope that didn’t sound like I don’t want her here. “Not that I want you to leave or anything,” I add quickly. Jesus, fuck. I’ve never been this awkward around Bree.
She gives me a small smile, pushing a loose curl that’s escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. “Are you going to invite me in or are you waiting for the real fuckface?”
Damn, I forgot Grayson will be here in thirty minutes. Do I want Bree to know I’m hanging out with the enemy? Not particularly.
“Yeah, come in.” I move out of the way, letting her by. She walks inside, and her eyes instantly take in my place with interest before she turns back to me. “I like it. Fletch said Blair decorated.”
I laugh at that because I was right. She had a couch sent over but also dishes, a coffee table, a television, and a recliner. Not to mention new bedding, towels, and silverware. “Yeah. She did.”
“She did a great job,” Bree says with a sweet smile, and my heart pangs again. I should have just kissed her. Why can’t I just love her back that way? It would be messy but easier than this.
Wouldn’t it?
“I miss you,” she says, and I stare at her like an idiot.
“I miss you too.”
“Good.” She looks relieved before she shoves my shoulder playfully. “Quit avoiding me.”
“I’m not.” I place my hand on my chest, absently rubbing over my heart. “I thought you wanted space after . . .” I stop myself because . . . awkward . . .
But she laughs, and it instantly reminds me of old times. “After I fucked everything up, confessed my love for you, and tried to kiss you?”
“Jesus, Bree.” I flop down on my couch, and she laughs, following suit and tucking one leg under her, facing me.
“I’m sorry, okay? It was dumb.”
“It wasn’t dumb. Not if that’s the way you felt.” I drag my hand through my hair. “I’m the idiot. It would have been so much easier if . . .”
“If what?” She looks amused but also a little sad. “If you’d have pretended to feel that way for me? Kissed me? Pretended to love me? Who would that have been better for?”
I think about it, frustrated and confused, leaning my head back against the couch. “I don’t know. But everything is so messed up.”
I smile when I feel her finger drag over my cheek slowly and turn to look into her eyes, which hold nothing but comfort and love. “I knew you didn’t feel that way. You never led me on, Rhett. It was stupid. And it’s okay. I don’t want pity love.”
I snort a quick laugh. “You’re far too good for any pity. Ever.” I take her hand in mine and pull them both over my heart. “I’m sorry, Bree. I’m fucked up.”
She shakes her head emphatically. “You aren’t. You’re good. Very good. You just don’t know it, and that breaks my heart.”
I don’t argue with her. It’s an argument I’ve had with everyone I now call family. I don’t know how to explain it to them. Bree, Fletch, and Rhys should get it, but they don’t. They spend so much time telling me how good I am, but I just can’t get past the fact that if I were so damn good, my parents wouldn’t have given me up.
That I can’t just love my best friend the way she deserves to be loved.
That I’m going to totally fuck over Rhys when he tries to hand me my new apprenticeship, but I’ll be working for the competition instead.
I’m beyond fucked up.
“I like this place. It suits you,” Bree says, looking around again.
“Yeah, as much as I want to be pissed at Blair, she does have good taste.” And I mean that. Nothing is flashy or crazy. It’s all very simple and dark. Very me.
Bree pulls her hand away gently and then pats my thigh. “Well, you have a fuckface on the way.” She stands, looking down at me. “Who is that, by the way?”
Well, shit.
“No one. Just someone from school.”
Her brows crinkle. She thinks I’m crazy but shrugs it off, walking toward the door. She turns to face me when she gets there, and I meet her there. “Friends?”
“Forever. You can’t get rid of me, Bree.”
She bites on her bottom lip and takes a quick, deep breath. “Okay, good. No more avoiding me. Eat lunch with me. I miss you.”
I smile. “Yes ma’am.”
She laughs and then kisses my cheek. “And if you decide you finally want to talk about all this . . .” She looks around again, and then her eyes are firmly on mine. “I’m here. Any time. Okay?”
I nod, but I’m not really sure when I can come clean with everything. When I can have a totally open conversation with her again.
She must give up on a verbal answer because she opens the door. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I walk her out to the top step, still numb from the surprise of her showing up.
We say a quick goodbye, and I watch her get into her car and drive away before I go back into my apartment.
So that just happened.
Only a few moments later, and there’s another knock. It’s closer to eight now, so it must be Grayson. Sure enough, when I pull the door open this time, the giant goofball with his way too gorgeous face and bright smile is standing there. “You actually opened the door.”
“Yeah. I’m as surprised as you are.”
He only laughs and holds up a paper bag by the handles from a local Italian restaurant.