Wait, huh?
The world stops spinning. Crickets silence. Everyone, everywhere on the planet turns to look at us. I, however, have to try very hard to remain neutral. Somehow I instinctively know that my reaction right now is crucial if I want to keep the status quo of our friendship. Don’t mess things up, Nathan.
“Since when?”
“Last night. We broke up after the game.” Her answer comes out fast. “Well actually, I broke up with him after the game. He was fine with it though. It was pretty much mutual.”
I can’t believe this. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
She shrugs, her attention focused on sliding her bracelets up and down her wrist one by one. “Just didn’t think about it.”
“Lie. No one conveniently forgets that they broke up with someone they’ve been dating for six months.”
She grits her teeth and rolls her eyes to me. “Fine! I just didn’t want to, okay? It wasn’t a big deal. Martin and I barely saw each other, and…he was boring. We were boring together. No sparks. I just couldn’t do it anymore.” Bree says all of this looking completely nonchalant, while I have to remind myself to keep breathing—slowly, in and out, like a normal human and not like I’m short-circuiting on the inside.
Because this—right now—is the very first time we’ve both been single at the same time in the last six years. Somehow our relationships have staggered themselves out into an almost humorous cycle.
And now…we’re both single.
At the same time.
And I’ve seen her naked. （That thought has nothing to do with anything, it just pops into my head randomly from time to time.）
If I leaned in right now and kissed her, would she let me? Would she cringe? Or would she melt into me and that would finally be the end of our platonic friendship? These are the questions that keep me awake at night.
I don’t get to find out the answers, though, because Bree suddenly snatches her purse from the counter and throws it over her shoulder. “Okay, well, now you know. So, I’ll see you…sometime,” she says, backing away from me with a curiously flushed face.
I follow her to the door. “Tomorrow,” I say, closing my fingers around the magic eight ball. “I’m picking you up tomorrow for Jamal’s birthday dinner, remember?” My teammates love Bree, call her the Sharks’ little sister. I refuse to ever call her that.
She trips backward over a shoe and catches herself with a hand on the wall, her long honey-brown ponytail whipping her in the face. “Tomorrow? Oh yeah, I forgot. Sounds good!” She’s being so strange. Or…more strange than normal, I should say. “Well…I’ll see you tomorrow then!”
I grin as she tries to leave through the front door, but her purse gets caught on the handle, yanking her back a step. She yelps then frees herself and runs out the door.
With a sigh, I look down at my newest Breenket. “Well, magic eight ball, what do you think? Should I tell my best friend I love her?”
I turn the ball over, and the message reads: Reply hazy, try again.
The next day during practice, it’s clear that Bree’s singledom announcement has taken up all the available space in my head. I can’t focus on drills. I screw up too many passes. Jamal—the top running back on our team—has started calling me butterfingers, and it’s catching on like wildfire. Everyone thinks it’s hilarious because I’m never like this. Coach is concerned and thinks I have the flu. He sends for a team physician to check my temperature on the sidelines in front of everyone. I feel like an idiot.
“I just have something on my mind,” I tell Jamal later when practice is over and he’s badgering me with questions about why my game was so off today.