Page 75 of The Fangirl Project
“It’s not that Idon’tlike him, Jake, I—”
“You never talk to him! Both of you! You never even talk to each other! You act like you can’t bear to be around each other,all the time! Is this why? Is this…Have you both been…How long—” His face crumples, and he presses his fingers to his eyes before his tears can fall. They leave smudges on the inside of his glasses when I draw his arm away, but he pulls back, like he can’t bear for me to touch him. He hiccups, and I bite my lip, not sure how much of this is real and how much of it is just close to the surface because he’s been drinking. I don’t suppose it matters either way.
“Jake, it’s not like that, I promise, it’s—it was—”
“How could you?” he asks again, with another hiccup, and this time a couple of tears spill over. “You’re supposed to be my friend, Cerys, mybestfriend, but—”
A laugh cuts out of me before I can stop it. It’s a short, barking sound that is nothing like me, so much so that Jake startles, pausing whatever tirade he’s got brewing. I laugh again, another horrible, hollow sound, but somehow it feelsso goodto let it out.
So I let some of the rest out, too. All the dark, anxious, nasty thoughts I kept pushing down and pretending there was a good excuse for. I let it all come spilling out.
“Best friend?” I sneer. “Is that what you call it? When you hardly talk to me, or tell me anything anymore? Half the time I feel like you’re ghosting me, trying to cut me out of your life like you did everyone from school, and when wedotalk it’s only because of this stupid fandom—”
“What, you mean thestupid fandomyou only got into because I told you about it? I didn’tmakeyou get involved, Cerys. I thoughtyou’d like it, and I thought it’d be a cool thing for us to enjoy together, but I didn’tmake youwatch the show.”
“If I didn’t, we’d never talk! I’d never see you!”
“That’s not true—”
“Yes it is, and you know it. If we’re supposed to be best friends, then why haven’t you been there for me? Youknowhow much shit I’ve had going on at home with my parents, but you only seem to bother asking when it’s convenient. Ineededyou, Jake. I needed my best friend and you were—you were too busy geeking out overOWARwith yournewfriend—”
“So what, this is your idea of revenge? This is how you’re getting back at me for having a life outside of you? By going afterMax?”
“I’m notgoing afterhim, Jake, I’m—that’s…” This whole thing feels like it’s gotten so wildly off track; I try to wrangle it back. “I’m notmadat you for having other friends, I’m mad at you for—”
“Yes, you are!” he scoffs, then hiccups again and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Even if he is tipsy, this fightseems to be sobering him up by the second. Every word thrown seems to make him steadier on his feet; it makes me feel wobbly and queasy. He scowls at me, and brushes another rogue tear off his cheek. “Youneverlet me have anything of my own, Cerys. You’re always—you’re alwaystagging along.”
“I’mwhat?”
“You are!” he bursts out, nodding sharply, even as his breath shudders. “You tagged along at school, and you tagged along to the Worlds Beyond con, and now you’re tagging along withOWARand Max just like you tag along with the girls at school and wear whatever they wear and do whatever they do—”
“Oh, like you weresointo the idea of cosplay before Max—”
“At least Maxcaresabout stuff! At least he knows who he is!”
“What, unlike me, you mean?”
“Yeah! Yeah, unlikeyou.And you’re so shallow about it—”
“You want to talk aboutshallow,Jake? How about your soccer drama, and Ginny being annoyed that you’re borrowing her car to learn to drive, and every time you crack the same joke about being late with your homework? All you ever talk about is what’s going on withyou.You barely everaskhow I’m doing, Jake, and when you do—”
I break off, trembling, sick to my stomach. When he does, it’s hidden under layers of conversation aboutOWARin the Discord. Like he’s…ashamed of me. Squashing me down, pushing me out, tucking me out of the way of his “real” life.
My eyes search Jake’s, and cold settles into my bones. My best friend feels like a stranger to me.
“It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore,” I tell him. “And you know what? If this is how you’re going to be, I’m not sure I want to.”
He staggers back, the words slicing between us like a guillotine, and the fight drains out of him in a shuddering exhale. Jake’s whole body slumps, his face growing taut around the edges and eyes shining with more tears, but he doesn’t let them fall.
Instead, he spins on his heel and storms out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.
I watch him go, feeling all at once numb and agonized. Jane Austen’s Captain Wentworth eat your heart out: I amallin agony now, and it’s definitely worse than when there was still half hope.
I’ve destroyed it. Not just the hope of a potential romance, but the hope of salvaging our friendship. It’s gone. I did that.
The fireworks keep going outside.BOOMandcrack!andfizzzzz,and the oohs and aahs of an appreciative, tipsy crowd watching them all.
Behind me, I’m aware of Max and Anissa standing silently, having watched the whole fight.
