Page 58 of Friend Me

“A zee-ot.” And we were back in safe territory.

When we parked at the Civic Center, Tyler retrieved a frayed blanket from the Mustang’s trunk before we ascended to the grassy area outside City Hall. He spread out the blanket, and I tucked the flared skirt of my dress, another pink floral print, under me. The white-columned building and its dome rose behind him, dusted coral by the sunset.

He handed me a bottle of water and cracked open a Mountain Dew.

“They don’t allow wine in the park, but I figured the atmosphere was worth it,” Tyler said. “Better than some stuffy restaurant.”

I leaned back on my hands. Tyler was the opposite of stuffy. What you saw was what you got: open, honest, true. I couldn’t say the same about Cooper, whose enigmatic, opaque nature had been a puzzle to me the three years I’d known him. I’d hoped that someday I’d crack it, and the mysteries of his universe would be laid bare. Not anymore. My chest tightened in a perfunctory twinge.

Tyler passed me a fork and a couple of tamales on a paper plate. “Buen provecho.”

I took a bite. “Great Galileo, these are good. Have some before they get cold.”

He unwrapped a couple of tamales and laid them on his plate. “Why is this weird?”

Oh.I’d thought he’d chosen to ignore my awkward verbal fire hose in the lobby. And in the car. That probably would’ve been better. If we didn’t talk about it, it wasn’t real.

Why was it weird?Sitting on a blanket in the park eating tamales with him didn’t feel weird. Even though we were dressed up, we were still two friends sharing a meal. Outside. In public. Unlike in the elevator, I didn’t want to wrap myself in him, kiss those soft lips. And he didn’t want to kiss me. He sat across from me, poking at his tamales, not even looking at me. A man meandered past us, pushing a rattling shopping cart. Nope, we were safe out here.

“I guess it’s not weird.” Maybe I was the only one who lost her mind when we got too close.

“Good, because that’s not how I feel around you. I feel like…like all the colors are turned up. Like it’s always sunrise or sunset around you.” He held up his hand, turning it to examine the orange where the setting sun hit it and the dusky blue shadows on the other side.

“Tyler, we—” My heart pounded like it wanted to leap out of my chest and straight into his. No. I couldn’t let myself get sucked in by poetry. We were friends hanging out. Soon, the sun would set, taking away the golden magic and leaving us in the cool blues and grays of twilight. What would that do to Tyler’s eyes? Would they fade to dark, or would the golden flecks glow like a cat’s?

I needed to get him back under the fluorescents that washed out his vibrant shades and turned him back into my everyday work friend.

I set down my plate. “We’re friends. And I don’t want anything to ruin that.” Cooper had been right about that while we’d danced at the wedding. As long as I maintained a safe distance, like a satellite in orbit, I’d be fine. But if I nudged closer to Tyler, our friendship would burn up like a fiery meteor in the atmosphere and leave behind only a cold hunk of metal. I couldn’t destroy our friendship like that. I wouldn’t.

He took a breath to say something but then blew it out. Instead, he lifted the green bottle to his lips and drank. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship, either. It’s special to me. You’re special to me.”

I smiled. “Our friendship is important. Especially with—” I couldn’t even say it. If I didn’t say the words, Alicia’s marriage wouldn’t change our friendship. She, Tyler, and I wouldn’t change. We’d still be the three outsiders who, when we were together, helped each other feel like insiders.

“I get it.” He laid his hand on my knee, over my dress, just for a second, before he speared a bite of tamale and popped it in his mouth. He rolled his eyes up while he chewed. “You’re right. These are the best.”

“I know, right?” I picked up my plate and dove into my second tamale. We were back in the safe zone. “Stick with me. I’ve got plenty more to show you.”

He snorted. “I’m sure you do.”

* * *

My heart was breaking.Again.

It was one thing to listen to the soundtrack through my earbuds. It was something else entirely to see it acted out on the stage, especially from three rows back, where I could plainly see Eliza’s anguished expression as she cradled her son in her arms. And when she cried out, a sob hiccupped out of me.

I only remembered I was still in a theater full of strangers when I caught a flash out of the corner of my eye. The lady next to me turned, her diamond earrings catching the stage lights, to give me a comforting smile.

From my other side, a handkerchief brushed against my hand. I smiled my thanks at Tyler, whose eyes were glossy, too. But I had actual tears running down my cheeks, and probably mascara, so I didn’t try to give it back. At least my tear ducts were operational again. And these were good tears. Sad, but for someone else. Not myself.

I blotted my eyes and returned my attention to the stage, where the drama marched to its inevitable conclusion.

I knew the ending. Everyone does. Still, I was glad I had Tyler’s handkerchief.

Cooper would’ve loved the show. Though he’d probably already seen it on Broadway. Sure, he was a workaholic, but he was also a musical theater junkie. If he’d been with me, instead of in Boston, we could’ve gushed over the music, the costumes, the performances. In front of the stage, where there was plenty of room for his long legs, would he have passed me a tissue? Held my hand? Laid an arm over the back of my seat?

Maybe.

Or maybe not. He was more the silk pocket square type than the cotton handkerchief type. And he was never a fan of PDA, even if it was only to comfort a friend.

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