Page 61 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

Oh, God.

That possibility hadn’t even crossed my mind. But the weird way he acted during our little tiff coupled with this sudden late night “work session” suggest I might be right about there being a secret girl. Someone he can’t or won’t talk to me about.

Don’t you think he would tell me if he were on a date?

The thought that he might not makes me wish I hadn’t eaten so much. It feels an awful lot like jealousy creeping up my esophagus—mixed with fried rice, crab Rangoon, sweet and sour chicken, and everything else I wolfed down.

But that can’t be it.

I’ve never been jealous of Flynn dating, nor him I. Though it has been a while since he’s seen anyone, jealousy just isn’t our thing. We don’t get green with envy or try to interfere with each other’s lives. We’re happy for each other when the other has someone in their life.

We don’t do jealous or petty.

So, it can’t be that.

It can’t be why I suddenly feel like dropping to my knees in front of the toilet and unloading my stomach. The Chinese just isn’t sitting well. That’s the story I’m going with. The idea that I might actually care that Flynn is on a date and lied to me about it needs to go away—fast. It’s too dangerous. Too complicated. Too much of the things Flynn and I have never been.

Before I can question it too much further, my phone rings in my hand, and Alicia’s name flashes on the screen. I answer as I force myself to turn away from the window and staring at his house. “Hey.”

“To answer your question, yes, I do think he would tell you if he were on a date. But I’m wondering why you’re so worried he might not. Are you jealous…because you love him?”

She sounds so hopeful. Like she expects me to all of a sudden admit the deep, hidden feelings she thinks I have for him.

“Alicia, come on. Do I need to say it?” I sigh. “Of course, I love Flynn. He’s my best friend. But now you know why it can never work. I would never risk our friendship to see if there’s anything more there. Not when I know how he is. And I’m not jealous. I’m just worried because of how he’s been acting lately.”

“You’re sure?” She doesn’t bother to hide the skepticism from her voice. “Really sure?”

“Yes.” Maybe that answer was a little too fast, but I am sure. No matter what, Flynn is my best friend and always will be. ‘Til death do us part. Besties for life. Nothing more and never anything less. I won’t let whatever weirdness happened between us the other day occur again. If he ever tries to shut me out or shut me down like that in the future, I’ll start playing dirty.

“All right. Well, if we hear from him, I’ll let you know. You do the same because now you have me wondering what the hell is going on.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

She hangs up, and I pull the blinds aside again to check out his house for the umpteenth time. Still dark. And if I don’t do something else besides wait around for Flynn to show up, I’ll drive myself nuts.

I start to turn from the window when bright headlights move down the street toward me, and his car turns into the driveway.

He’s home.

He parks on the driveway, then unlocks his front door, and the light in his living room flips on.

But still…no return text.

He must have been driving when I texted earlier, but he’s home now. And I’m standing at the window like a total creeper watching his house.

Again.

Connor was right the other night.

This is what it must feel like to be a stalker. And it doesn’t feel good.

Like I’m intruding on his personal life and space. Like I’m seeing things I shouldn’t.

Flynn and I have always shared so much. Basically everything. But to keep tabs on his every move and obsess over something that I shouldn’t be worried about crosses the line from “friend zone” to “stalker zone” for sure.

I close the blinds and force myself to head back to my bedroom to climb into bed. My laptop still sits on the nightstand where I left it last night before I finally fell off into a restless sleep.

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