There was a moment of silence where I didn’t speak, and neither did she.
Then, suddenly, “Is he coming over here?” she screeches.
Right away, she moves to fix her hair in my peripheral. I’m not offended by her assumption that she’s the one he noticed. It has nothing to do with her vanity, or her seeing me as some kind of ugly duckling. This is just kind of the order of things in our friendship. I’m the tomboy who cursed the day she got boobs. Meanwhile, Jules had been stuffing since fifth grade, because she lacked the patience to wait for Mother Nature to give her a rack of her own.
Flirting and dating, her thing. Work and ball, mine. It’s only due to a grueling weekend of practice freshman year that I know how to walk in these shoes. Jules wouldn’t stand by while I rolled into the ninth-grade Homecoming dance wearing high-tops.
I, on the other hand, saw no problem with that at all.
“Please let me get lucky tonight,” I think she means to whisper to herself, but instead repeats it three times like a chant.
He’s closer now, just on the other side of the bonfire. But before he can even round the flames…
Intercepted.
Hardcore.
By a busty cheerleader-type, no less, with brown hair stretching to her waist. I stare as she bounces into the picture, blocking my view. At first, she’s not much of a threat, because there are only whispers exchanged between them, but my heart sinks when she slides her tiny, manicured fingers down his stomach. They don’t stop until they reach the front of his jeans. And I’m not just talking some casual caress, either. I mean, this chick grabs a whole handful of him. Like there’s no one else around.
It’s then that his gaze leaves me, slowly tearing his eyes from mine down to hers. She whispers something else and it brings a telling smile to his fleshy lips. At this point, I realize there’s no chance of stealing his attention back from her. No guy would ever pass up a sure thing for a maybe.
He doesn’t resist when Do-Me-Barbie takes his hand to lead him off toward the main house, and likely toward a bedroom.
I realize my stare still lingers in the direction where they’ve just disappeared, and I probably look like a helpless puppy. But that’s what I feel like. A puppy who’s just been shoved backwards off the porch, into the freezing snow.
“Oof,” Jules sighs. “Well, that sucks a little. Talk about anticlimactic.”
Despite disappointment twisting in my chest like a knife, I laugh. “Story of my life.”
She turns abruptly when my comment seems to register.
“Wait a freakin’ minute!” she says, drawing the syllables out for dramatic effect. “You … the ice queen herself … were interested in him?”
A sigh rushes from my lips. “Don’t get too excited. The moment didn’t exactly end with a bang.”
“Maybe not, but this breakthrough still deserves a moment of recognition. Has there even been anyone since—”
“Don’t … say his name,” I warn sharply, which has her hands shooting toward the sky in surrender.
“Okay, okay,” she concedes. “Well, as fun as this is, I think I’m over this little soiree,” she announces. I’m surprised, but too happy at the prospect of leaving to question what changed her mind.
“I should get home to check on Scar anyway. She’s always trying to sneak Shane in when I leave my post.”
Clutching my arm as we cross the lawn, Jules laughs. “Lighten up, BJ! They’re just friends. Despite being brothers, Shane’s nothing like—”
“Don’t … say his name!” I interject again. “If you say his name, you’ll summon him like some kind of … I don’t know … wickedly persistent demon.”
“Wickedly hot demon,” she mumbles, which prompts me to nudge her ribs.
She rolls her eyes with a smile. “Fine. Whatever you say. I won’t say his name.”
My heart relaxes a bit as we stumble through the grass arm-in-arm. “Thank you.”
She’s eyeing me, and it’s when she bites the side of her lip that I know what she’s about to do. I’m too late to stop her.
“Ricky Ruiz!” She blurts it out to the universe and there’s no taking it back. Not even when she clamps a hand over her own lips. The big, dumb grin she’s hiding behind it makes me want to arrange a meeting between my fist and her nose.
“See?” she beams. “I said it, and nothing happened.”
I hear her loud and clear, but she knows why I keep distance between Ricky and me. Because rules equal order—no unsolicited visits, no casual phone calls.
Not that he’s respected either boundary in recent months.
I’m hit with a barrage of memories, reminders of how he morphed from being my big brother’s best friend, into… it honestly doesn’t even matter.
Water under the bridge.
“The sky didn’t fall,” Jules’ continues, trying to push her agenda. “The Earth didn’t open up and swallow us whole. You were worried for absolutely—”
The phone sounds off and I’m speechless for a few seconds, in shock by how accurately I called it.
“Looook what you’ve done, Jules!” I scream toward the sky, unable to hold in a smile when she belts out a laugh.
“But wait, you seriously have this dude saved in your contacts as ‘The Mistake’?” She’d seen that before I hit ‘ignore’.
I decide not to answer her or him. Meanwhile, her red mane quivers with a head shake.
“A little harsh, don’t you think, BJ?”
“About as harsh as you continuing to call me that, after I’ve asked you not to on countless occasions.” I conveniently ignore the rest of her comment.
“Yes, we’ve discussed it, but after over a decade of friendship, I think I’ve earned the right to discreetly call you ‘Blow Job’ for a cheap laugh,” she argues. “Now, stop trying to change the subject.”
Busted.
“You know from the bazillion texts he’s sent
