Page 23 of Every Thought Taken

Easy. Boys like Scott are used to getting what they want. I wasn’t his first girlfriend. Like a fool, I hadn’t questioned the fact he’d had his arm around at least five other girls since the start of freshman year. Sure, we are young and none of us expect to fall in love at fifteen. Had I not been so swept up in the idea of one of the most popular boys in our sophomore class wanting to be my boyfriend, I might have thought with my head instead of my hormones or my inexperienced, hopeful heart.

“He is the idiot,” Mags says as she pets my hair. “His loss, not yours.” She inches back and locks me with a reassuring gaze. “You hear me?”

My brows tweak at the middle before I give a slow nod. “Yeah.”

She pulls me back into a hug. Squeezes me tighter.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

Several minutes of silence pass before Lessa waltzes back into the room with a loaded tray. Mags’s arms fall away and I straighten. My eyes roam the pile as she sets the tray on the bed. Sour cream and onion chips. Macaroni and cheese, still in the pot, with three forks. Chocolate candies and red licorice and gumdrops. A tube of chocolate chip cookie dough with spoons. Grilled cheese sandwiches cut into quarter triangles. Cans of soda.

The backs of my eyes burn as my vision blurs. “You did all this?” I shift my gaze to her. “For me?”

She nudges my arm playfully and rolls her eyes. “Duh. You’re one of my best friends. My sister. Of course, I did this.” She plucks a chip from the bag and pops it in her mouth. “You’d do the same, so would Mags, in a heartbeat.” She leans across the bed and gives me a lung-crushing hug. “Boys come and go, but we’re forever.”

I grab a forkful of macaroni and cheese, shove it in my mouth, and nod. “Boys suck,” I declare, words garbled.

“Hear, hear!” Mags holds up a piece of licorice. “To sisters over misters!”

We scarf down carbs and cheese and sugar for the next hour, and it helps ease the heartache. A little.

And while Lessa and Mags talk about the biology test today, I lose focus. Let my mind drift to the next room. To my other best friend. The one I’ve basically ignored for the past year. The one I’d rather be bingeing empty calories with.

Anderson.

Through thick and thin, he has been there. Lent me an ear or shoulder or warm embrace. And in my quest to explore life and love, I abandoned him. Not completely, but more than acceptable.

That changes tonight.

I miss him. Fiercely.

Shame on me for waiting until my rose-colored glasses cracked to realize what I had done. To realize I fractured our friendship. All for a stupid guy.

Never again.

Muted words fill the room as an episode ofThe Vampire Diariesplays. After Lessa took the almost empty tray to the kitchen, she returned with DVDs of the most recent season. We love the show and often watch new episodes when they come on, but I wish she would have chosen something different. Watching two guys pine over one girl… I didn’t want mushy. She meant well, butMean Girlswould have lifted my spirit more.

Sandwiched between Mags and Lessa on her full-size bed, I itch to get out of here. I peek to my left. Eyes closed, Lessa’s mouth hangs open slightly. Her chest rises and falls in time with her soft snores. I shift my attention to the right, where Mags faces me with a throw pillow hugged to her chest. She, too, is asleep.

Thank goodness.

I love these girls, but I need a breather.

Inch by slow inch, I worm my way to the foot of the bed. When my knees hit the edge and bend, I sit up and drop my feet to the floor. Rise and tiptoe to the door. Turn the handle slowly and ease the door open, wincing when the hinges creak. I glance to the bed, but neither Lessa nor Mags have moved.

I slip out of the room and close the door. Take a deep breath and pad down the hall to the next door. Grip the handle, count to five, then twist.

Unlike Lessa’s room, his is blanketed in darkness and silence. I close the door behind me and shuffle across the room, my feet brushing clothes and books and shoes. With each drag of my feet, my eyes adjust to the lack of light. Mere feet from his bed, his head turns and I stop.

“North?” he whisper-asks.

“Hey,” I croak out.

He sits up and spins to face me, hand extended. “You okay?”

I shuffle forward and take his hand. Scan his silhouetted profile. Though I can’t see them, Ifeelhis eyes on my face.

I drag in a ragged breath and shake my head. “Not really.”

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