Page 28 of We Can't Be Friends

I place the sandwich marked EGGC in front of her.

Unwrapping the comic newspaper—

“Wow.”

“I know,” Chloe agrees.

Both sandwiches are two-handers. She finishes unwrapping the grilled cheese, flattening the newspaper out on the table. As Chloe pulls it apart, I understand the name. Gooey, yellow cheese drips from one half, clinging to the other. She sets one half on my side and, without asking, takes half of the BLT I unwrapped.

“Switchies.”

“What should we start with?”

“You pick.”

I pick up the BLT. She does the same. I tap my half to hers. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” she repeats, confused.

Chloe watches me take a bite, eagerly waiting my review. “You have to take a bite too,” I garble around a mouth full of meat, cheese, and lettuce. “It’s bad luck if you don’t.”

She does, and I take another before swallowing the one in my mouth. This is too good.

Her eyes flutter shut and she moans softly. “So good.”

If she thinks this is good, I wonder how she responds to the taste of me.

I take another bite, trying not to watch her throat. The slow swallows or the way her shoulders rise and fall.

Chloe doesn’t set the sandwich down, eats the entire half before wiping her mouth with a napkin and taking a sip of her Diet Coke.

“You were right.” Her words are the first ones we’ve spoken since we started eating.

“Right about what?”

“Seth.” She takes another sip out of the can. Red lipstick sticks to the aluminum. “Don’t act too surprised that you were right.”

“I didn’t want to be.” I set my hands on the table. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You asked me to lunch to tell me I was right?”

“No.”

“Why did you ask me to lunch, then?”

Chloe tugs her bottom lip into her mouth. I want to pluck it out, maybe replace it with my thumb. She reaches for her Diet Coke, the can crinkles in her grasp.

I uncurl her fingers from the can, then lift my thumb, running it along the corner of her mouth before a drop of the amber liquid runs down her chin. “You can tell me, Henry. Whatever it is, I won’t judge you. Whatever you are feeling, it’s okay. I promise.”

Gray irises soften, her intensity and wall falling away.

“You really want to know?” I nod. “He cheated on me. I broke up with him. This morning.”

Instinctively my hands form fists, blood boiling.

“I’m—”

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