Page 105 of Best Friends Don't Fall For Best Friends

She nods. “Okay.”

I inch closer to her. “Are you okay?”

She nods again.

“Are you thinking about…?”

Her eyes move to me. “What?”

“Him?” The last time she was this quiet was because of that guy.

She blinks a few times, as if she completely forgot about the secret admirer. “Oh, no. I wasn’t. Let’s pack.”

We don’t say much to each other as we stuff our bags. I carefully put away my costume, looking forward to wearing it again next year. If we go, that is.

Chloe stares at her costume for a bit, smiles, and packs it away. We place the gifts we bought for our friends and family in our bags as well. After sweeping the room to make sure we haven’t forgotten anything, we check out.

Then it’s off to a café for breakfast.

We still don’t say much to each other. I want to talk to her, but I don’t know what to say. How could we be best friends but have nothing to say to one another? That’s never happened to us before.

We enter the café, browse the menu, pick our food, and find seats. I smile at Chloe as I place our bags on the floor between our feet. She returns a small one.

“Nice place,” I say.

She nods.

“Is everything okay?” I ask. “You’re so quiet.”

She plays with the napkin dispenser. “I’m fine. Do I not seem fine?”

“You do,” I lie. “Just a little quiet, that’s all.”

She doesn’t say anything, and the table is dead silent. The only sounds are from the other customers and the staff doing their job.

“I guess I’m just tired,” she says. “And a little nervous to go home.”

I lift a brow. “Nervous?”

“Yeah. We might get stuck somewhere. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

I reach for her hand and clutch it in mine, immediately feeling her warmth that makes a calmness spread over me. “Nothing you say is stupid. But don’t worry, everything will be fine. And you have me. Wherever you go, I go. You’re not alone.”

She smiles, slowly pulling her hand out of mine and looking away. Puffing out my cheeks, I glance around the café so I won’t let my thoughts get consumed by her.

Our food arrives and we dig in. Pancakes, yum, but not as good as Mom’s, or mine. And this isn’t me being confident or cocky. I just prefer mine.

Chloe takes a bite, makes a face, but continues eating. “They’re a little burned. And dry. And…”

“Not like mine?” I tease.

“Yeah. Yours are always so soft and fluffy and perfect.”

I grin. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll make some for you when we get home.”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to. You should focus on the competition. It’s only a few days away.”

“Yeah.”

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