Page 56 of Just Friends

He bends down and whispers something to Mom, who flashes me one more icy glare before picking up her Louis Vuitton purse and following Dad out of the restaurant.

“And that’s the story about how Mom yelled at me in public about how I need to be having more sex,” I intone like I’m finishing the end of a long story, turning back around to face my siblings.

Our server, who is used to our tradition of ordering dessert after Mom and Dad leave, brings us slices of cheesecake before we can flag her down to ask for some.

As I’m pouring the raspberry preserves over the top, Adam asks, “So are you going to tell them about the situation, or should I?” I glare at him, and he grins. “You look just like Mom right now.”

That wipes the expression right off my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

From down the table, Ellie laughs.

A muscle in my jaw ticks. I don’t know where this intense irritation witheveryonehas come from, but it’s so unlike me, and I’m not a fan. Back before Hazel decided she was ready to date again, I was okay with the way things were between us. But now I wantmore, and every day that passes without it leaves me a little more desolate.

So no, I don’t want to talk to my siblings about it.

“So Alex is in love with Hazel,” Adam begins and then yelps when my foot connects hard with his shin beneath the table.

“Adam,” Kelsey scolds, her dark eyes blowing wide as she stares at her husband.

“We all know,” Ellie jumps in.

I drag my palms down my face, pulling the skin tight. Suddenly, I am so, so tired. I’ve been running myself ragged at work to stay busy. And every time I close my eyes at night, I picture Hazel’s hair flying around her as she danced with Parker. Her smile stretched wide, her muscles straining as she stood on tiptoe to hug him when they figured out the steps.

“You know,” I say, staring pointedly at Adam, “I left you alone when you dated Kelsey.”

“I know, which is why I find it particularly unfair that you won’t shut up about Hazel,” he grumbles. But I ignore him, turning to face Ellie.

“And I didn’t bug you about your forbidden love affair with a tenant.” My gaze snags on Cam. “No offense, Cam.”

He holds up his hands in a placating gesture, as if to say,none taken.

“So I would appreciate some privacy on this.”

“I’d love to,” Adam says. “In fact, let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“Oh, shut up,” I snap. “I’m going to call you to complain whenever I want, and you’re going to pick up and act interested.”

He rolls his eyes, but I know he’ll do it. For all his bluster, he’s incredibly loyal. And if I told him how much I was actually struggling, he would be at my apartment with a six-pack in an instant.

The bad thing is, I don’twantcomfort from them right now. I want Hazel. I’m sad and tired and frustrated, and I just want to curl up on my couch with her feet in my lap and a stupid movie playing on my TV.

But things between us feel strained, like tight muscles after an intense workout, and I don’t know how to make it better. Do we just push through it, ignore the awkwardness, and keep going as usual? Even that doesn’t hold appeal. For so long, I thought I was okay if I at least had my friendship with Hazel. Sure, I wanted more, but if I had her insomeway, it was enough.

It’s not enough, I’m realizing. It’s not enough to have pieces of her. It’s like trying to do a puzzle upside down. It can be done, but it’s hard and time-consuming. But with Hazel, I’m right side up, and everything in life seems just a little easier, a little brighter.

I’m fraying at the seams, not mending fast enough to keep from unraveling, and I don’t know what to do about it.

“You’regoingtogeta permanent wrinkle right here if you hold your face like that any longer.” Lucy’s blond curls pop up over the top of my laptop as she slides into the booth across from me, a finger pressed to the space between her eyebrows.

I accept the strawberry lemonade she pushes across the table and take a long sip. “I’ve been working on this one design all day and can’t get it right. It’s driving me nuts.”

“Ah,” she says, sipping on her own drink—what looks to be a shot of espresso with milk. “Then you probably need a break.”

“That sounds wonderful.” My back slumps against the booth, my stiff shoulders rolling back and popping.

“How was the date over the weekend? I forgot to ask yesterday.”

This is where I should feel the excitement—the butterflies—but I just don’t. IlikedParker, well enough to extend our date on Saturday, but there was no spark. He was kind and funny, but he didn’t make me feel breathless or set my blood on fire. He was warm, steady. Easy.

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