But then, she pulled away. Or more like cut me off. She left me with no choice but to go to UT as planned—and then after I got there, she wouldn’t return any of my calls or texts. It felt like the most painful breakup even though we’d never dated. We went four years without talking, and still to this day I have no idea why she did that. She’s thriving in her new life now, so we don’t revisit the past. I’m too scared to hear the answer to why she cut me out back then.
When I graduated, got signed by the Sharks, and moved to LA, Bree was here too. I believe it was cheesy, old-fashioned, honest-to-goodness fate that brought us back together. I walked into a local coffee shop, the bell chimed over my head, and she looked up from a book, eyes locking with mine from across the room. She was a defibrillator to my chest. Bam. My heart hasn’t beat the same since.
That day, I found my old friend again. The friend I knew before the accident who was so full of life and energy, except even better. She was healthier, she had these incredible, soft, feminine curves that had not been there before, and her knee had healed up enough that she was able to work as an instructor at the studio she now owns. Unfortunately, she had a boyfriend then. Don’t even remember his name, but he was the reason I didn’t ask her out on the spot.
We picked back up with our Tuesday tradition, and I’ve been barrel-rolling into the vast, never-ending hell hole known as the friend zone ever since. I’m afraid I’ll die in this friend zone because she’s constantly reminding me that she’s not interested in anything romantic. Almost every day she says a terrible phrase like:
“Just friends.”
“Practically my brother.”
“Incompatible.”
“Two amigos.”
Anyway, that’s why I did it. I couldn’t bear to stand back and watch her lose something important to her when I could easily fix it this time. So I’ve secretly been paying her rent, and she will be furious if she ever finds out.
I make a mental note to check in later with ol’ Mr. Landlord just as Bree’s finger falls away from my mouth. “Seriously, don’t worry! I’ll figure something out like I always do. But for now, I’ll take some ibuprofen and ice it between classes. I’m okay. I promise.”
Because I’m only her friend, I have no choice but to hold up my hands in surrender. “Okay, I’ll let it go. I won’t ask if I can give you money anymore.”
She tips a cute, snooty chin. “Thank you.”
“Hey, Bree?”
“Yes?” she asks suspiciously.
“Do you want to move in with me?”
She groans loudly and lets her head fall back against the couch cushion. “Nattthaaaannnn. Let it go!”
“Seriously, think about it. We both hate your apartment—”
“You hate my apartment.”
“Because it’s not fit for human habitation! I’m a thousand percent sure there’s mold, the stairs are so sticky but no one knows why, and that SMELL! What even is that?”
She grimaces, knowing exactly what I’m talking about. “Someone suspects it’s a raccoon that got in between the walls and died, but we can’t be certain. Or…” Her eyes dart. “…itmightbeadeadhuman.” She mumbles that last part, and I consider holding her hostage and forcing her to live in my clean, mold-free apartment against her will.
“Best of all, if you lived here, you wouldn’t have to pay any rent, and then you wouldn’t need to make as much from the studio.” It’s a loophole, a way for her to cut costs without accepting a single dime from me.
Bree holds my gaze for so long I think she’s wavering. “No.”
She’s a needle, and I’m a full balloon. “Why? You already practically live here. You even have your own room.”