Page 4 of The Perfect Love

“Well, duh. You’re contractually obligated to as my uncle.”

He grimaces. “First, I thought we agreed you don’t refer to me as your uncle because I’m too young and hot. And second, I don’t recall signing a contract for that.”

“Well, you did. So it doesn’t count.”

He waves his hand. “Contract or not, no one ever said I had tolikeyou. But I do. So again, stop with the self-deprecating shit.”

I chuckle. “Is it sad that my”—he pins me with a look, so I stop myself from using the worduncleagain—“father’s much younger brother is my best friend?”

He raises his cookie sandwich and taps it against mine. “Nope. Because you’re mine too.”

I glance over at my bag again, where my phone is with still unread texts from my supposed “best” friends.

A moment of bliss hits and a chill runs up my spine, making me smile. This is where I’m supposed to be. I’m supported and I’m ready to take on the world again—or at least one little chunk of it.

After we finish eating, I head back up to my apartment, ready to set up the hundreds of dollars’ worth of blankets, pillows, and accessories I got at Target, and my new bookcase for all my new book boyfriends. They need a safe place to live.

Since I’m a strong, independent woman, I told Robbie I could put it together by myself. And I’m doing the damn thing, but also getting distracted and wondering if my book babies can survive living on my coffee table until tomorrow.

My phone goes off, and I grab it, seeing yet another text in my group chat with my friends.

Guess I should deal with it so I can move on. I’m not going to cut them out of my life or anything, but I’m choosing distance, so I don’t choose raging on them and burning our thirteen-year friendship to the ground.

Bridget: Girl, you totally missed out on all the cute boys last night. Why didn’t you come out with us?

Lex: Yeah! We needed one last girls’ night, and you ditched us.

I didn’t respond to those, so now I have two new ones.

Bridget: And now you’re not answering. Don’t you love us anymore?

Lex: Don’t make me send you a picture of my pouting face.

I sigh and type out a response.

Me: I told you I needed to finish packing last night, and I didn’t answer because I’ve been getting settled in at my new apartment.

The three little dots appear immediately.

Lex: Well, you should’ve packed last minute this morning.

Bridget: Yeah. We wanted to see you before you moved hours away. I still don’t understand why you had to change schools. We were all within an hour of each other before. Now you’re stupidly far away.

I don’t even know how to answer that. Or explain why I’ve avoided going out with them all summer. Because the thing is, I’ve said it. But they don’t like my answer. Or they don’t understand it. They don’t understand why I can’t get over it.

I mean, apparently, I was just supposed to let it roll off my back.

It was only a little rape.

Tears prickle in my eyes.

All it took was one night to destroy my life. One night of not paying attention to my drinks. One night of my college friends ditching me. One night of mistakenly trusting a guy, who then used me and discarded me like I was a disposable toy. One night for my body to stop feeling like my own and for my life to change forever.

I’m not over it.

Sometimes, I think I never will be.

And my “friends” don’t even bother trying to understand that.

---