Page 4 of Bound By Brielle (Crave & Cure Productions)

“It’s ten in the morning,” I deadpan, and as soon as the bitchy words fall from my mouth, I want to hook them and reel them back in. I sound… like I’m not over him. And despite the sweaty armpits, word vomit and stomach of unease—I am over Noah. Honestly, I am.

“We’re braising pork belly for our engagement dinner,” she says, holding out her ring finger like I should give an actual fuck.

I glance at the ring for an appropriate amount of time, then look between them, smiling. “Congratulations. I’ll let you get going then.”

Noah nods, and they push their stupid cart past me and even though I really don’t want to turn around, I do. And Noah never glances back, not even once.

After paying for my groceries and unloading them into the back of my car, I flop into the driver’s seat and drag my phone from my purse. I call my best friend, becauseobviously.

Her mouth is full when she answers. “‘Sup babe?”

“Noah is engaged to some girl named Tiffany and they’re braising short ribs together,” I spill, keeping my voice strong, glad she can’t see the tears streaking my cheeks.

“Okay,” Winnie draws out. “And we care about Noah… why again?”

“He introduced me on the cereal aisle and she didn’t even know who I was.” I shake my head, staring at a young mother and child with their backs to me at the bus stop ahead. “He never mentioned me to her. We were together for twofuckingyears!”

“I know this,” Winnie says.

“I let him put his dick in my ass, Winnie!” I shout, eyes going a little bulgy. “I took him to the hospital when his appendix burst! I went to his mom’s fucking funeral!”

Winnie sighs. “Yeah, that’s… I don’t know, B. We will never know why men are the way they are but… the most important thing is—who fucking cares? You haven’t mentioned Noah in like, six months. You’re over him.”

She’s right. Iamover Noah. I really am.Iwas the one who broke up withhim! I loathed the little whistle his nose made when he slept after a night of drinking, all of his friends annoyed me, his addiction to video games was obnoxious and quite frankly, toward the end of our relationship,everythinghe did royally bugged me.

Still.

“Am I that unimportant and forgettable?” I whisper, my voice devoid of backbone as I’ve completely given into mywoe is memoment.

Winnie takes another bite of whatever she’s eating, and around the mouthful says, “Shut up. You know you are neither of those things.” She swallows, and takes a drink of what I assume to be Coke. “Who knows why he didn’t tell her about you but more importantly, who cares?”

The bus pulls along the curb, and the smiling mother hoists her child onto her hip, climbing the stairs before disappearing inside. I’m jealous of her happiness.

“Tony made fun of me,” I tell her, twisting my key in the ignition.

“Who is Tony?” Winnie asks, burping into the receiver. “Where are you?”

“I’m leaving the grocery store. And he’s the meat department guy.” He’s the only guy in my life right now and… “Meet me at Rise & Grind in an hour?”

“Okay but you’re buying me a pastry and a coffee if I have to battle parking. You know how much I hate the parking down there.”

“Fine,” I reply, my mind running.

“Why Rise & Grind? And what does this have to do with Noah?”

I reverse out of the parking spot and head toward the exit, toward my apartment across town. “You know that mentor/protégé program that’s open for application?”

“Yeah,” she says, because although Winnie and I studied different subjects, we're both grad students, she knows the opportunities available to graduates. “What about it?”

“I need to do something I haven’t planned. I need to do something outside the box.” I lick my lips, flicking my blinker on as I wait for a hoard of people to cross the street. “I’m going to quit the documentary job. And apply for this instead.”

“Ooh,” Winnie breathes, “Big Daddy won’t like that.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Do not call my father Big Daddy, please. I already feel like a complete turd. Don’t make me abarfingturd.”

She laughs. “Okay, but are you sure? You know your dad likes it when you have things lined up. And honestly, B, you like that too. Are you sure you wanna throw away a sure thing to be a protégé for a semester? What if it doesn’t lead to anything?”

Times like this I’m happy to have a photographic memory. “All mentor/protégé relationships end with an option to contract, with ample opportunities on the horizon thereafter,” I repeat the words I’d read on the application months ago. I never thought about it then. I was so sure I wanted to make documentaries.

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