“What does she want?” He reads me loud and clear.
“She’s just asking when I’ll get there.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, striding over to me and snatching the phone out of my hands.
“Hey!” I yelp.
His eyes comb through every word within seconds.
He frowns. “What is this shit?”
“It’s nothing. Just a list of things I have to get.”
His jaw twitches.
“You’re not her fucking pet. Tell your bitchy friend to run her errands herself.”
His reaction, as negative as it may be, makes me feel some type of way. A good some type of way.
“Why do you care?” I turn the tables on him.
Like I’ve just called him to order, he chucks my phone back into my palm, crosses the kitchen with slow, lazy strides, and slides back into his previous position—arms crossed, leg up— against the wall.
“I don’t.” He shrugs. “Just feel bad for you, that’s all.”
I swear this boy’s mood changes at the flip of a coin.
“Tell me one good thing about her. I dare you.”
“No.” I stand my ground.
“So, you’re admitting she’s a bad friend?”
“Fine. She makes me laugh.”
He snorts. “Yeah, because she’s a fucking joke.”
“Will!”
“What? I’m kind of an expert on the matter. Had a friend like that once. I would’ve done anything he asked, even when it was batshit crazy, because I thought he’d do the same for me.”
“And… did he?”
His voice plummets in volume, revealing a faint, easily missed edge of vulnerability. “Nah. He threw my ass under the bus the second things got rough.”
“That sucks. What happened?”
I can feel every inch of him pulling away from me when the words leave my mouth—Crazy considering he’s halfway across the room.
“I’m over it. Shit happens. We move on.”
That’s his way of telling me he’s done talking about it. My phone goes off for the millionth time, but I don’t bother checking. I know it’s Zoey.
“Look, all I’m saying is I don’t doubt for a second this Zoey chick would do the same if it ever came down to you or her. She’d choose herself. In a heartbeat. No second thought.”
“You don’t know her,” I oppose, my mind racing with painful scenarios. Zoey isn’t the easiest friend, I know that, but I have to believe she’d stand up for me if I ever needed her.
“I don’t know her personally, yeah, but I’ve known a million like her. And I’ve known a million like you. The pushover always loses in the end. You’ll see.”
Damn.
“Did you want anything else than to completely shatter my spirit today?” I ask, and he cracks a laugh, the serious tension slipping away.
“Nope. All done. You can go now.”
I smile, reaching for the door handle.
“Nice outfit, by the way.” He stops me. “It’s very… not you.”
He’s right. I never wear crop tops. I swivel around, noticing the way his eyes linger on my body. My pulse throbs in my neck. Why does my skin literally burn when he looks at me?
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just…” He hesitates on which word to use, then settles for, “Casual.”
I have no idea how to answer that.
“You usually don’t do casual,” he adds.
I’m surprised he even notices these things.
“Thanks for the fashion advice. I should probably go before the girls send out a search party for me.” I swing the door open, throwing one last glance over my shoulder. “Good night, Willy.”
He releases a grin. “You too, control freak.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m kicking Zoey’s front door shut and wrestling with the pile of snacks in my arms. “I’m here,” I yell, only to be greeted by my best friend’s thumping footsteps.
“About time,” Zoey huffs, turning the corner and swiping the food from my hands.
“Nice to see you, too,” I call out, watching her stomp off to the kitchen. She replies with a small laugh, at the very least acknowledging her rudeness.
Morgan’s next in line, meeting me at the door for a hug. I feel like we haven’t hung out outside of school in forever. Between my new job and homework, I haven’t seen much of… well, anyone, really. I’ve missed our nights of stupidity.
The smell of popcorn sweeps across the apartment, a sign that Zoey’s putting the money I shouldn’t have spent to good use. Morgan and I spread across the couch.
“Tell me everything. How’s the new job going?” She wraps herself into a soft blanket.
“The job isn’t all that great, but my coworkers are awesome, so that helps.”
We make small talk, catching each other up on the latest. Then she stabs me in the gut with one question.
“So… have talked to your dad lately?”
My breath staggers.
No, I haven’t.
That would require him wanting to talk to me.
“No. He hasn’t called since he left.” I squeeze a pillow to my chest as if to protect myself. “Why?”
“It’s just… my mom told me she saw him at the mall yesterday. She thought maybe he was back in town. But she’s probably wrong.”
A pang of sadness runs through me.
“It couldn’t have been him. He… he would’ve called. He promised he would.” My voice quivers with doubt.
“Hey. Don’t worry.” Morgan picks up on my distress. “She must’ve confused him with someone else. Just forget I said anything, okay?”
I nod, struggling to slap my happy face back on. It’s been close to two months since I came home to my dad packing his things. My mom was locked in the bathroom, sobbing her heart out. He said he needed time to figure things out. That he’d come back when he had his shit together and could be a good dad to us. I asked, begged, my mom to tell me what happened. Why he was leaving.
She never did.
Only said they were getting a divorce and they’d drifted apart.
Not a peep from him since.
All I know is Kendrick and my mom started acting weird as hell the weeks after
