Page 45 of Trapped and Tackled

“We kissed!” I squeal. Then, I smack a hand over my mouth. Fresh tears well in my eyes and Marlowe’s gaze studies my face. “Marlowe, what is wrong with me? I just got out of a terrible, dangerous relationship. And I’m giddy because one of my dad’s football players has been tasked with chaperoning me next weekend.”

Marlowe grins slowly. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Leni. You just forgot what butterflies feels like. It’s no surprise that Craig stopped making you feel anything but fucking nervous. He strikes me as a dude with a small dick who needs to overcompensate by being fucking evil.”

I roll my lips together before another laugh erupts. “He did have a small, limp dick!”

Marlowe’s eyes widen at my outburst and then, the tension, the past year of space, the heartache and hurts, shift. Crack. Implode. Erupt.

And we both start howling.

Sobbing.

Reaching for each other, hugging and holding on, like our lives depend on it.

The soft cotton of Marlowe’s thin T-shirt absorbs my tears. Her long nails tangle in the ends of my hair. And our laughter, bordering on hysterical, mingles in the space between us. Around us.

Everything is a fucking disaster.

Marlowe’s family is falling apart.

My romantic life is in fucking shambles as I lust after one of my dad’s players even though my abusive ex-boyfriend is blowing up my phone.

But one of the missing pieces of my life snaps back in place, moving the puzzle closer to completion.

I have my best friend back. Really, truly back. Without the awkward silences. Without being confused about how much I can confide. Without wondering if she’ll judge me for being weak, pathetic, naïve.

“We’re back, Leni,” Marlowe confirms my thoughts, and I hug her harder.

“I’m sorry I allowed so much time and space to pass.”

“Don’t do that either,” she reminds me.

I snort, she laughs, and then, we cry.

It’s cathartic and necessary. It’s a homecoming I never knew I needed but cling to with both hands.

I have my best friend back and knowing that fills me with lightness.

With courage.

With hope.

My growling stomach interrupts our reunion.

“You need to fucking eat,” Marlowe admonishes. “You’re too damn thin.”

“It’s the nerves,” I share, not holding anything back anymore.

Marlowe’s brow furrows. “But you’re home now.”

“He’s still texting me.” I unlock my phone screen and shove it into her hands.

“Leni!” Marlowe shrieks, waving around my phone. “This is serious.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Do you think? He could just be?—”

“No. Craig is fucking unstable. He put his hands on you.”

“Shh!” I interject, slamming my palm over her mouth. The last thing I need is for one of my parents to overhear that truth.

---