Page 25 of Shutout
She blinks those big, brown eyes up at me. “Friendship isn’t a switch you can just turn on and off.”
“It was never off for me,” I whisper. And that makes her look down at the floor, a casual admission that it had been off for her. I grab her arm again, making her meet my eyes. “I’ve missed you, Liv.”
Air filters through her lips. “No. Not the puppy eyes.”
“Are they working?” I smile a little.
“Kinda.” She mumbles, shaking her arm free of my hand.
“So, friends again. But this time forever, am I right?” I nudge her side with my elbow and yep, she’s still ticklish going by how she all but jumps away.
Liv cuts a quick side eye to me. “Yeah, friendsforever, I guess.”
CHAPTER 10
OLIVIA
Friends forever,my ass.
An unrequited crush on a best friend is a sweet little way to package what essentially is ulterior motives.
I had the hots for the guy who was my best friend for years. It turned me into a chicken shit who needed years to gather her nerve to confess, at the risk of losing his friendship if things got too awkward. Then it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Last week, I gathered a lifetime’s worth of nerve to challenge him to kiss me—and he did.
And all that still changed nothing. Friendzoned again.
I accept my fate now. Fully. And yes, it’s taken me perhaps too many wine coolers, one of which I’m sipping right now. And maybe I’ve also soaked my pillow through from crying a few nights this week.
But I get it. There’s no way B-heart-O is happening, ever. That dream is finito. It’ll take some time for my heart to catch up to what my head now understands—especially because I have to see his pretty face all semester—but it’ll get there. Evenif I have to gaslight myself into not feeling like this is a second breakup in a row.
If not, I’ll always have my ten thousand Instagram followers.
I sniff and suck wine through a straw at the same time, which is not the sole extent of my multitasking. I’m sitting in the living room couch, editing a video on my phone that I’ll upload tomorrow. I’m doing a series where I whip up a quick and healthy recipe, including allergen modifications in the captions, to the tune of some heavy metal. It’s funnier because I keep a deadpanned, almost arrogant expression on my face as I record. You’d think Beethoven is playing in the background.
My account has been active ever since I started college, but it’s really taken off after chopping my hair off and playing the music I actually like. I’ve gained half of my followers in the past two months alone.
And one of them is Brooklyn. Now that he’s unblocked from my life, he’s spent the past five days liking every damn video and giving me commentary on the side. His favorite so far has been the strawberry and date smoothie, and I don’t know if it’s because he has a sweet tooth or because the background song is one of our faves from Memphis May Fire.
The straw makes that gurgling sound that means I’ve reached the end of my wine cooler, and even though it’s only five thirty in the afternoon, I consider getting another one. Or maybe switching to something that won’t get me plastered on an empty stomach.
I have my head buried in the fridge when my roommates arrive together.
“Um, hi, Liv. How are you feeling, sweetie?” Dee’s tone is so careful, it weirds me out enough that I abandon the quest.
Closing the fridge, I mutter, “Fine? What’s going on?”
She and Mina exchange a glance and Mina sighs in relief. “Okay, at least she sounds more human now.”
“What?” I scrunch up my face.
Dee toes off her sneakers and drops her messenger bag by the door before joining me in the kitchen. She goes straight for the cereal. Dry. Like a monster. “Well, you’ve been kinda weird this week. Unresponsive.”
“Catatonic, more like.” Mina’s eyes zero in on the wine cooler still clutched in my hand. “And also you single-handedly went through our entire wine stash.”
“Oh.” I toss the empty container in the trash and push my hair away from my face. “The start of the semester was rough. That’s all.”
“Wanna talk about it?” Dee asks between crunchy mouthfuls.
Maybe I should. Fessing up might relieve some of the burden. But I know I’m the one acting like a brat, so I don’t know. I don’t want to get set straight quite yet. I want to wallow for a bit longer. Maybe ten more years.
