Page 9 of Just Friends

He swats it away, his eyes laser focused on mine. “You want to go on a date?”

“You almost died!”

“Hazel,” he says, his voice laced with exasperation.

“What?”

“Answer my question.”

It takes me a moment to remember what we were talking about, my heartbeat still pounding in my ears, but when I do, I almost don’t even care to talk about it anymore. With a trembling hand, I reach for another fry and shrug. “I said I think I’m ready to start dating again.”

An unreadable expression passes over his face for a split second, there and gone, before I can decipher it. “What do you mean?”

Sighing, I say, “I don’t know.” I twist my hands together in my lap, trying and failing to make sense of my thoughts. “I feel like it’s time, right? It’s been over a year sinceSebastian.”

Alex makes a disgusted face, like he does any time I mention my cheating ex-boyfriend, and I can’t help but echo the unspoken sentiment. Fourteen months ago, I returned home to LA from Nashville, where I was celebrating Cam and Ellie’s engagement, to find my boyfriend of a year and a half in bed with his neighbor. And after dumping him, eating more chocolate cake than I care to admit, and not leaving my house for five days straight, I realized I had exactly zero ties left to that city. So I did what any mature twenty-six-year-old woman would do. I packed my bags and moved across the country and into my brother’s apartment. For the second time in my life.

Living with Cam lasted exactly nine days before I couldn’t handle it anymore and we found a new place for me to move into. An upstairs detached garage apartment that belongs to one of Ellie’s former tenants. But after the whole cheating fiasco, I decided I should take a break from men and try to piece myself back together. I don’t think anyone realized how much Sebastian destroyed me. Not even Alex.

Alex clears his throat, pulling me out of my thoughts. His melting cotton candy milkshake is mixing together to form a pretty shade of pale lavender. It sloshes against the sides of the glass as he stirs it, not meeting my eyes.

“So who do you want to date?” he asks after a long moment.

I clench my hands tighter together under the table, joints popping as I wonder how he’s going to respond to the idea I had just minutes ago. “Well, I was hoping you could help me with that.”

His gaze shoots to mine instantly, almost searing me with its intensity. “What do you mean?”

“I was thinking maybe we could…”

“Yes?” His shoulders expand, straining against the fabric of his white button-down as he takes a deep breath and holds it.

“Set each other up.”

The breath he was holding whooshes out slowly, making his body deflate like a balloon. He pushes a hand through his dark brown hair. “You want to set each other up?”

I grab the hand he has resting on the table and give it a squeeze. “Aren’t you ready to start seriously dating someone?”

His voice is a soft exhale, his gaze fixed on mine. “Yes.”

“Me too,” I say, tucking my legs up under me on the booth seat. My hair falls in loose, limp waves all around my shoulders, getting in my way, so I reach for Alex’s wrist and tug off the ponytail holder he always keeps there for me since it wouldn’t go with my outfits.

Alex watches as I swiftly braid my hair, the silky strands gliding through my fingers at a rapid, practiced speed. “That’s where my plan comes in.”

“Your plan?”

“It’s just…” I trail off, not sure what I’m wanting to say. One thing keeps running on repeat in my head. Something that’s been haunting me since I found Sebastian with his neighbor. “I don’t trust myself.”

Alex’s eyes soften to warm, rich puddles of brown. “Haze, what Sebastian did wasn’t your fault.”

I sit back in the booth, letting my shoulders slump against the shiny surface. “I know that, and I don’t feel like it was. Really. But I’m still scared, Alex. I thought things were good between us, and I don’t know how to find something I can trust.”

Alex looks away, his jaw flexing.

“I just don’t know if I trust myself to find someone good. I want someone I can laugh with. Someone who will take silly selfies with me and tell me when I have paint in my hair. Someone who will get waffles with me at midnight and won’t complain when I want burgers for breakfast.”

“You should have that,” Alex says, and for some reason, his voice sounds a little strange, like the scratch of a match on sandpaper.

“Mostly, I want someone who won’t cheat on me.” Alex’s lips tighten, and I know he thinks I’ve set the bar entirely too low. “That’s where you come in.”

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