Page 14 of Friendshipped
Trevor
When I step out onto the porch for a midmorning run, Jayme’s stretching her calves on the steps.
“Hey,” I say. “Coming back from a run, or heading out?”
“If I were coming back, you would know. I don’t sweat pretty. I’m about to go running.”
“Want company?” I offer. “Rob should be here any minute to join me on my run today. You’d be welcome to come with us.”
“No thanks,” she says. “I think I need to air my head out a bit.”
I nod with understanding.
My friend, Rob, pulls up in the old red Ford pickup truck he restored a few years ago over a summer.
Rob’s this understated twenty-four-year-old who reeks awesomeness in his sleep. Let’s start with him graduating at the top of his class from MIT. Yes. He went to MIT because he’s the kind of guy that needed to decide if he was going to MIT, Yale, or Harvard. Ivy league schools were literally fighting over him like he was some intellectual first round draft pick.
Rob invents things, and some of his innovative ideas have already made him a lot of money, even at his young age. After college, Rob gathered up all his hard-earned education, and settled back here in the modest town of Bordeaux, building contraptions in his back yard and garage and making a more than decent living off his popular YouTube channel.
The man could be an astronaut, or the next Jeff Bezos. He’s that smart and has innate business sense. And he’s not one of those geeky scientists either. He’s got a dry sense of humor and the kind of looks women seem to flock to. But he’s content working on his inventions and hanging out with people whose collective IQs add up to his.
Rob hops out and comes over to where we’re stretching.
“Hey, Jayme,” Rob says. “You slumming it this morning?”
“I spent the night with Lexi,” she explains.
“Ahh,” Rob says. Then he asks, “Are you joining us for a run?”
“No,” Jayme answers. “I need open roads and solitude.”
“Two of my favorite things,” Rob says.
I lift my chin toward Rob and take off running. At the edge of the sidewalk, I turn to run backwards a few strides.
“See you later, Jayme!” I shout across the yard as Rob takes his place alongside me.
Rob and I set our pace.
“So, what’s the weekly update on Lexi?” Rob asks. “Still single—and therefore available?”
“We remain friends,” I answer.
“Sorry. Your face had a certain look when Jayme mentioned her name.”
“What look?” I ask, hoping Jayme didn’t see anything telling.
“The look that says, I’ve had romantic feelings for my best friend for the past eight years and I want to kiss her more than I want to breathe,” he clarifies, looking over at me for a reaction.
“That’s a pretty specific look,” I say with a chuckle. Then I ask, “Was it obvious?”
“She didn’t notice,” Rob says, referring to Jayme.
I breathe out a slow breath.
“Technically all eight years don’t count. I was with Meg at the end of high school. Then we all left for college. We’ve only been back a year.”
“Whatever,” Rob says. “If you plant a fruit tree and it only bears fruit two of the past eight years, you’ve still got an eight-year-old tree, my friend.”
