Page 86 of The Boyfriend Goal

Maeve nudges me, asking, “So, is it?”

Shoot. I haven’t even answered her.

“Would something like this qualify?” Fable asks too.

That’s a reasonable question—“have fun with friends” feels like a list item. But I also want to have fun with my roomie, so I do something I don’t love. I shake my head. “Bond with friends isn’t,” I say, pasting on a grin as I spin a tall tale.

Fable narrows her brow, maybe thinking I’ve missed the point when she adds, “I think she meant this whole thing—pics and all.”

“Not really,” I say, doubling down on the lie, flicking a strand of my hair off my shoulder, like that proves I’m not making things up.

Fable arches a brow. “You lie.”

I flinch. “I don’t.”

“You do. I bet this is on there,” she says.

My heart slams hard against my rib cage. I feel…caught. “It’s not,” I say as she grabs at my shoulder bag, like she can find the list in it. The list’s at home though.

As the bus curves past Market Street, Maeve leans forward in the blue plastic chair to stare slack-jawed at me, wagging a finger my way. “This is on the list. Somehow. And you don’t want this to count.”

She says it playfully, but like she’s delighting in busting me.

Shame climbs my throat, combined with foolishness. I misled my friends. I roll my lips, then blow out a breath. “Fine, fine. You’re right. Taking photos of fun times is on it. This counts, okay? I missed it, and I felt stupid.”

But Maeve doesn’t back down. “That’s not what’s going on.” She stares at me longer, studying me, like she can find the answer in my expression. She must find it, since she says, “Oh my god! I know what’s going on. You’re doing this with Wesley, aren’t you?”

I drop my face into my hands, groaning. But when the bus rumbles to a stop at Yerba Buena Gardens with a mechanical growl, I let go and look her in the eyes. “Yes,” I admit, and there’s a momentary reprieve as we trot down the steps. Once we head into the gardens, I revisit the topic with a genuine apology. I don’t want to be the friend who fibs. “I’m sorry, guys.”

Maeve grabs my arm, tugging me to a nearby bench. “Josie. You don’t have to apologize.”

Fable gives me a soft smile, exonerating me too. “Yeah, it’s not apology level. We get it. But why didn’t you tell us what’s going on?”

That’s the bigger issue. I’ve been keeping something from them. Something important. That I’m spending more and more time with my roomie. That I’m developing feelings for him—feelings I shouldn’t act on. Correction: shouldn’t act on again. “Yes, but it’s stupid. He’s my roomie, and I’m leaving, and he works with my brother, and it’s all just annoying,” I say with a frustrated huff.

Maeve sets her head on my shoulder, sighing sympathetically. “I’d have been surprised if you weren’t falling in like with him. You liked him that first night. Now you’ve gotten to know a man who’s been nothing but generous since the first time you met him,” she says, her voice stripped of its usual sass and teasing. She’s straightforward, and I love it. “Maybe it was all supposed to happen.”

I take a moment to consider her view of fate. Since I landed in town, Wes and I have been in each other’s orbits. We can’t stop circling each other. “Maybe there’s an inevitability to us,” I admit.

“Sometimes two people are just meant to be in the same…place,” Maeve says, her artist soul shining through.

I noodle on that for a beat, drawing in a breath of cool November air. I’ve read enough stories to bet on that little thing called fate to bring people together who need each other. “That might be true in some ways,” I acknowledge. “Wes and I seem to understand each other in the way that we both want and need. But on the other hand, we’re not going to be in the same place for very long. And the fact that we literally live in the same place right now is a problem.” I look from Maeve to Fable and back, shrugging helplessly. “What if something happens and then…I don’t want it, or he doesn’t want it? We’re stuck together, and that would be weird.” Uncomfortable too. My back aches in a reminder of The Kid, waiting to torture me on Maeve’s couch if I need a new place to stay. “I really like living there.”

We’re all quiet for a beat. Humming. Sighing. Thinking.

“You really don’t think a romance or relationship can go anywhere?” Fable asks, clearly needing to make sure we’ve turned over every stone.

“It’s hard to imagine it will. There’s a lot in the way. It’s so hard finding a job and a place, and even if those aligned…” I don’t finish the thought because I don’t have more to say. Wes and I are complicated. Besides, I want to focus on my friends. “But thanks for listening. I needed it.”

Maeve shoots Fable a look. Fable shoots one right back at her, like an unspoken language. With a nod, Maeve squeezes my thigh, then says, “You should take pics with him. For the list. This is a fun girls’ night out. That’s all.”

My heart swells with love for them, for this gesture, for their understanding. “I love you two. So much,” I say, then I wrap an arm around Fable, another around Maeve, and hug them close. “This should be on every list. Tell your friends you love them.”

Maeve’s eyes glisten, and she swipes at her cheek. Fable rolls her lips together, holding in obvious emotions. But not for long. “Love you,” Maeve says softly, and Fable echoes her with, “Love you too.”

I check the clock on our hunt. One hour down. One to go.

Fifty-nine minutes later, we finish with a photo of a group hug with a random dog, a human pyramid of the three of us, and a photobomb in the ferry terminal before we head to a cake shop for our reward.

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