Page 80 of Off Limits

“Like what?” he asked, blinking a few times, like he was trying to clear his vision.

“Like you’re having an existential crisis.”

“I’m just distracted.”

“You’ve been giving the fireplace the thousand-mile stare since you got home. That feels like more than just being distracted,” I pointed out. “Were your friends assholes or something?”

“No more than usual.” He ran his finger over a wrinkle in the material of his sweatpants. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just in a weird mood lately, but it’s starting to feel like that old movie where that guy keeps repeating the same day over and over again every time we get together now. It wasn’t so bad when I didn’t live here and only saw everyone a few times a year, but now it’s literally every time I see anyone from school.”

I bumped my knee against his. “Want to know my theory about why things are so different now?”

“Hit me.”

“You never really liked them.”

He furrowed his brow. “What? Of course I did.”

“Did you actually like them?” I asked. “Or did you like them because of proximity?”

“I’m not following.”

“Think about it this way. Would you have put the effort into seeing them and staying friends if you didn’t go to school together? Or were you friends with them because you saw them every day and they were your only options?”

He opened his mouth like he was going to protest, but stopped.

I smiled knowingly. “That’s why you don’t feel a connection to them now that you’ve all graduated. You were friends because it was convenient, and now that you don’t have that proximity, you’re realizing that you don’t have the same kind of connection to them as before. Am I wrong?”

“No, I don’t think you are,” he said slowly. “But wouldn’t that make me the bad guy here? That’s basically saying I used them.”

“I never said you used them, just that they were your friends because of proximity. If you’d kept the friendships alive because they benefited you or you wanted something from them,thatwould make you the bad guy. Finding them exhausting and not wanting to be friends now that you’re not the same person you were back then isn’t using them. It’s growth.”

“Growth.” He snorted out an odd laugh. “You make me sound enlightened or something.”

“Not enlightened, just self-aware.”

“I know a lot of people ragged on you for not having a lot of friends back then,” he started.

“Try no friends.” I shot him one of my sardonic smiles.

“I kind of admired you for that.”

Now it was my turn to snort out a weird laugh. “What?”

“I know it sounds weird, but that was one of the few things I didn’t hate about you back then.”

“That I was a loser with no friends?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” He shook his head. “I meant that you didn’t conform or go along with things just to fit in. It didn’t matter if it was at school, with our parents, whatever. You were unapologetically yourself, and I envied you for that.”

“Youenviedme?”

He nodded, his expression serious. “I didn’t have the guts to do what you did. I just went along with whatever everyone wanted because it was easier. You stood up for yourself and didn’t let anyone push you around or try to change you. Do you remember when Rick tried to bully you?”

I nodded.

“And how you told him in front of half the school to fuck off and threatened to cut him if he ever even looked at you again?”

“Yeah. Thankfully everyone already thought I was an emo freak, so they believed me.” I shook my head ruefully. “I have no idea how to use a knife, and I’d probably hurt myself if I tried to stab someone.”

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