I set my alarm for even earlier than usual. A plan was forming in my head. It was time for us, Amelia’s circle of friends, to perform an intervention of sorts. She needed us, even if she’d never admit it. I’d rally the Hell Raisers tomorrow and we’d come up with a solid plan to wrench her away from Daire. If I felt there were any redeeming qualities to that guy, I wouldn’t get involved. I’d let them handle it like two adults. But damn, the guy had crossed the line into abusive and I’d never stand for that.
As I tried to get to sleep, a pang of something that felt an awful lot like guilt hit my chest. Because as much as Amelia was my best friend, she was so much more. And my feelings for her were top secret. Not a soul knew I’d been secretly pining for her since that day in sixth grade. Maybe I was only stepping into the middle of her relationship with Daire for selfish reasons. Maybe she’d never look at me as anything more than her friend. Maybe I needed to just move on with my life and find my own version of happiness that had nothing to do with Amelia Waldo. All highly likely scenarios and yet I couldn’t stop myself from hurtling down this course of action.
A stack of papers on my desk glowed in the moonlight coming through the parted curtains as I tossed and turned. Those simple pages just needed my signature and I’d own that parcel of land at the end of Main Street where I planned to build my house. I always thought I’d be picking out the floor plan with Amelia calling the shots and convincing me to give her everything she wanted, which I’d do because I was utterly and irrevocably under her spell. Always thought we’d build a life there together on the outskirts of downtown where we’d spent our childhood.
There were derogatory names for guys like me. Pussy-whipped. Cuntrolled. Vaginanapped.
I preferred the term unrequited. And what I really wanted was to be unfriended. I’d given up a part of my heart to her years ago when I didn’t even know what my obsession with her really meant, and it had become an ingrained habit that felt as much a part of me as breathing. Amelia smiled and I did too. She dreamed big and I supported her every step of the way. Where she went, I followed, happy to be by her side.
Problem was, I friend-zoned myself early on when I was just happy to bask in the glow of everything Amelia. I didn’t know how to step out of that box without ruining everything we were together.
My phone vibrated on my nightstand. I picked it up, since the sandman wasn’t anywhere close to sweeping me into dreamland. Like the lovesick fool I was, I’d had an alert on Amelia’s social media pages for years so I’d see the second she posted anything. Tonight’s post was a picture of her and Daire, their faces squished together, the neon lights of the bar from tonight in the background. He smirked and she grinned widely, her arm around his shoulders as he held a longneck beer instead of her. They must have taken it before shit hit the fan and she called me to pick her up. It wasn’t the picture that had me throwing my phone against the wall. It was the caption she wrote.
Relationships include fights, jealousy, arguments, faith, and disagreements, but a real relationship fights through all that with love.
I swiped a hand through my long hair. I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or break something. Preferably Daire’s smug, undeserving face.
“What the hell, Amelia?”
2
Amelia
“Tell me this is a bad idea.”
I’d called in sick today, a difficult feat when you lived where you worked. Pretty sure there was a phrase about shitting where you sleep, but I wasn’t one for living like the mystical “they” suggested. I marched to my own beat and that beat was telling me to slack off today and lick my wounds. I was fairly certain the front desk employee, the kitchen staff, and the maids would be fine without me for one freaking day. But faking being sick meant I couldn’t leave my room or they’d see me sneaking out looking no worse for wear. Which meant I had to come up with something to do in my room to keep my mind off the actual thing I needed to be dealing with. Avoidance was alive and well today.
I did have a mini fridge stocked full of alcohol in my room. One of the perks of living in a hotel. So, what’s a girl to do except get the solo party started? Okay, not entirely solo. I had the hotel cat, Big Foot, with me, though he wasn’t a great drinking buddy.
“Normally, I’d say it’s a great idea, but given what you just told me about last night, I’d say getting drunk might be an unhealthy outlet.”
Lucy was talking and I swore the cell phone was wedged to my ear, but I was too busy trying to twist the damn cap off the vodka bottle. I wasn’t really listening.
“Jesus, do they make these things childproof?”
Lucy snorted through the phone. “Um yeah, it’s a bottle of alcohol.”
“Well, I’m not a child and I still can’t get the damn thing open.” I knocked the neck of the bottle against the table firmly enough to possibly jar it loose. Worked for nail polish bottles.
“You could have fooled me with the way you’re reacting to all this relationship drama.”
My jaw dropped and I forgot the bottle momentarily. “Fucking truth-bomb-dropping
