Page 3 of She Used to Be Nice
“OfcourseI’m sure!” Morgan’s face was wide-open, earnest. “And you’ll learn. It’s not like you’re doing everything by yourself. I’ll be with you.”
“But what if I mess everything up? What if I forget to pick up your garter or something? Do brides even wear garters anymore?”
Morgan laughed. “You won’t mess anything up. You’re super responsible.” She paused, then backtracked. “Well, you’re capable of being responsible. I’ve seen it. You just gotta … I don’t know. Tap into that again.”
Avery bit her cheek, piercing the tender flesh with her teeth. Maybe there once existed a version of Avery who was responsible, a girl who used to read novels and spend her weekends going to brunch and was generally just normal. But now Morgan was making a huge mistake. Avery was the girl whose credit card got declined for a four-dollar coffee at Starbucks, who let her houseplants wither and die from lack of watering, who got both a pregnancy scareanda gonorrhea diagnosis from the same one-night stand. She was different now. Someone she hardly recognized.
Morgan folded her hands in front of her chest, pouting. “Please?”
Avery studied Morgan, her last remaining friend in the world. After Ryan broke up with her, Avery made it clear to Morgan that she didn’t want her to pick sides, and Morgan did her best to stay friends with everyone. She forgave Avery for sleeping with Ronald while understanding why everyone else wouldn’t. And it wasn’t like Avery corrected anyone’s version of events of what happened that night. She could never say out loud the terrifying things that Noah did to her. That would just make them real.
“Morgan …” Avery tasted blood inside her mouth. “I don’t have a natural eye for wedding stuff. I can’t help you, like, choose flowers. I don’t know a rose from a chrysanthemum.”And all of our friends still hate me for what they think happened at that party and I’m too scared to tell anyone the truth. And I’m gonna be single forever while you and Charlie die togetherThe Notebook-style because I won’t be vulnerable with a man ever again.
“We’ll figure it out together!” Morgan held Avery’s gaze, a tenderness settling onto her face. “I really want it to be you, Avery. You’re the only person who can keep me in check. When I start obsessing over which cheese knife to put in my registry, you need to sedate me.”
Avery fidgeted with the zipper on her leather jacket. She had no idea how she could be a strong, stable anchor for her best friend when she felt so lost in her own life. She’d need to pore over everyBridesmagazine she could find, study weddings like she’d studied for the SAT. She’d need to be calm and levelheaded and a source of sanity for Morgan, despite feeling like she had none of those comforts available for herself. It wasn’t even that her well had run dry, but that at this point she couldn’t remember the last time it was full. But she would have to move on from what Noah did to her at some point, wouldn’t she? Surely she could keep convincing herself that what happened was just a stupid drunken hookup, which would help her get over it eventually. Right?
She wasn’t sure of the answer to these questions. But she could pretend for Morgan’s sake.
“Plus,” Morgan said, her eyes round and hopeful. “You’re my best friend. That means way more to me than the stupid chrysanthemums.”
The corners of Avery’s lips pulled into a smile. “All right.” Her voice was thin. She hesitated and then said it again like an incantation, as though repeating it might summon her long-lost confidence. “Yes, all right, I’ll do it! I’ll be your maid of honor!”
Morgan clapped and kissed Avery on the cheek. Avery beamed, feeling her shaky confidence strengthen and solidify. How could she have thought that she wouldn’t be her best friend’s maid of honor? Avery was always going to be part of Morgan’s wedding. Whenever she heard Morgan fantasize about it in college, it went unsaid that Avery would be involved, and nothing about that was going to change now. Even though everything else—and everyone else—would be different.
Jim appeared on the other side of the bar, grinning apologetically. “Can I get you girls anything else?”
Avery slid her empty beer bottle toward Jim and leaned forward to show off her cleavage. “I’d love another one of these,” she said.
Jim’s eyes flicked to her chest before he walked away.
Morgan stared at him, cringing. “Avery, that guy has the most jacked up teeth,” she whispered. “And he hasvisibledandruff.”
Avery shrugged. “So what? My hair gets greasy. Nobody’s perfect.”
Jim grabbed Avery another beer and poured two Fireball shots, filling the glasses so high that liquid spilled over the sides and onto the bar. He pushed the glasses toward them.
“On me,” he said with a wink. His teethwerea little yellowed, now that Avery got a closer look. Whatever. He was the only guy giving her attention tonight, and she needed the self-esteem boost, proof that someone, somewhere, could still find this broken version of her desirable. He’d have to do.
“Please tell me you’re not going to sleep with him,” Morgan begged as Jim brought a toothpick to his scalp and scratched hishairline. Dandruff fell like snow onto his black T-shirt. “He looks like an incubator for STDs.”
Avery rolled her eyes. Again with the worrying. But Morgan wouldn’t understand. While she racked up blissful nights with her fiancé, all Avery did was rack up her body count. Last weekend, there was Dylan, the guy Avery blew to completion who then ignored her to tinker with his fantasy draft after he came. The guy before that was Victor, or maybe his name was just Vic. Avery shook her head, reminding herself she didn’t keep track for a reason: because it hurt too much when she forgot. Forgetting was a reminder that there had been way too many, that her pain dictated more of her behavior than she was willing to admit. Her logic went that the more men she slept with, the more that night with Noah would fade into irrelevance. It made perfect sense.
Avery nudged Morgan with her shot glass. “Forget about Jim. Tonight’s about you. You’re getting married!”
Jim brought over two glasses of water, stealing another glance at Avery’s chest.
“Hopefully you’ll even have time for me this year,” Morgan said as she eyed Jim suspiciously. “Jim might want you all to himself.”
Avery flashed a mischievous smile. “I’ll allocate my time between both of you, don’t worry. How’s that sound,Mrs. Durham? If you plan to no longer be a Feeley, that is.”
“I’m definitely changing my last name.” Morgan’s cheeks flushed. “Wow. Mrs. Durham. Can you say that again?”
Avery laughed. “Say what again? Mrs. Durham?”
“Yes. With my first name.”
Avery spread her arms out wide as she shouted in her best emcee voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Morgan Durham!”
