Page 99 of Be Your Anything
She glares at me. “Don’t try to be cute, okay? You don’tgetto be cute when you’ve been too busy railroading other people’s feelings.”
I clench my jaw and spin away from her, heading over to the television and shutting off the ESPN that’s been playing for most of the morning while I’ve been zoned out in my pajamas.
“You know what, Paige? Lennon’s your best friend, and I get that—but I’m your friend, too, and I’malsoupset about what’s going on, alright? So crawl the fuck off your high horse and shut your damn mouth because I don’t have any interest in listening to you try to make me feel any worse than I already do.”
I let out a deep breath then allow myself to drop onto the couch, hoping Paige takes the hint and shows herself out.
Of course she ignores me. She wouldn’t be Paige if she did what I said.
Instead, she follows me over and sits down on one of the armchairs, lifting her feet to rest on the coffee table between us.
Then she just looks at me.
And looks at me.
Eventually, I look away, not liking the barbs in her eyes as they rake over my skin.
“Here’s what I want to know, Lucas.” She pauses. “How did you ever see this ending other than just like this?”
I don’t know how to respond, because whatever I say isn’t going to give her the answer she’s looking for.
Paige wants to hear me say I envisioned things differently, that I saw myself ending up with Lennon instead of Remmy. As much as I’d like to tell her that’s true, it isn’t.
I’m a guy who just hasn’t thought about the future much, hasn’t considered what’s next. To be honest, that includes thinking about anyone other than myself.
My sister moving in with me a few months ago was the first time I’ve really needed to consider someone else, needed to take into consideration their fears and wants and needs before just bulldozing my own path forward.
And that’s new. I’m still learning. It’s still an adjustment.
If I tell Paige something like that, she’ll call it a copout. An excuse. Absolute bullshit.
Maybe it is all of those things, but it’s also the only answer I have right now. So, rather than tell her what she wants to hear or say something that’s going to get me yelled at, I choose to stay silent.
“I just have to know—and this is for me, not for Lennon, because it will kill me to believe you’ve been using her—have you ever felt about Lennon the way she feels about you?”
Paige leans to the side and tucks her feet in under her butt, her tiny body making the normal chair look massive. Her eyes take me in, watch me with that mixture of curiosity and concern and sadness.
“I mean, she’s been in love with you since we were…god, at least since early high school. Maybe before that.”
My heart starts racing and it feels like my throat starts to close up.
“Paige.”
“We’ve only talked about it a few times, because she’s Lennon, you know? She bottles everything up, including how much she feels for you.”
I rest my head in my hands. “Paige.”
“So I just…I feel like I need to know you were blind to it. Because if you knew how she felt and still had this relationship with her—”
“Paige. Stop.”
For the first time in our adult lives, she listens.
And we sit in silence as I try to…process what she’s telling me.
When we were in junior high, I went with Paige to get her eyes checked because she was struggling so much in school. I remember when she put on the pair of glasses she’d been fitted for, her hand coming to her chest, almost like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“This is what it’s supposed to be like?” she asked, her eyes roving over everything, soaking it all in. Then she looked at me, and the emotional wave rolling off of her was so thick, I could feel it in my bones. “Is this what I’ve been missing?”
