“She doesn’t bring me—”
“Yes, she does! Your loyalty and affection are blinding you, but I’m your mother, Asa. You used to come to me during middle school and freshman year whenever she hurt you, remember? You used to talk to me. I don’t think there’s anyone who’s picked on your weaknesses and insecurities the way this girl has! And whenever I tried telling you that, you would get mad at me until you no longer came to me with your problems. And now I never know what’s going on with you at school!”
“Is that what this is about?” he asked, still sounding angry. Angry that whatever his mother said was true. Angrier that he could never admit it to himself. “That you didn’t find out how bad things were at school until today in the principal’s office?”
His mother took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she tried to get a grip of her anger. “This,” she said, opening her eyes slowly, “is about how you always let yourself see good in someone who also has a lot of bad. And normally that’s a very admirable quality, mijo, but not if it’s making you think that you deserve what they put you through.”
He turned away from his mother and looked at the girl who’d now fallen asleep in his arms. It was hard to think about how malicious Isla could be when she looked so peaceful and harmless right then.
“She has nobody else, ma,” he said quietly.
“Then she should be more grateful towards the fact that you’re still putting up with her,” his mother murmured, patting him on the cheek gently. “Put her in the guest room. I’ll let her parents know. It’s too late, she might as well remain here.”
“Thank you.” He met her eyes with a sad smile.
“She’s still someone’s child.” His mother shrugged. “I can’t turn a blind eye when she obviously needs some help.”
“Thanks,” he repeated, before reaching down to hook his other arm behind Isla’s knees and then carrying her towards the guest room.
When he looked down at her sleeping figure, the quilt pulled up till her chin, Asa couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy and nostalgia for the girl he once used to know.
A girl that was slowly slipping from existence and becoming something else instead.
But she was still his best-friend, wasn’t she? This was still the same Isla he knew.
It had to be.
Maybe his mother was wrong. Ma had to be wrong. There was a good chance Isla would eventually grow out of whatever phase she was going through right now. Whatever it was that was making her withdraw from everyone and become even colder and detached than usual.
So Asa just sighed softly and walked out of the room with a content smile on his face, knowing that come tomorrow morning, everything would be much better and they’d be able to wipe the slate clean.
Maybe, just maybe, he’d have his best friend back.
•••
Isla winced, clutching her head, as Asa placed a mug of coffee right in front of her, steam rising up from it and mingling with the cold air.
“My head hurts,” she groaned, mouth twisted into a grimace.
“That’s terrible,” Asa said, not bothering to hide the grin which only earned him a glare.
“Still a dick, I see,” she retorted.
“Still a moody bitch, I see,” he shot back.
“Asa!” his mother’s booming voice sounded all the way from the living room to the kitchen they were seated in. Asa made a mental note to lower his voice.
“Still got the anti-cussing policy, huh?” Isla asked, lips twitching at the corners.
Asa shrugged lazily, leaning back on his seat. “That’s the San Román household for you.”
“Sometimes I think your mother doesn’t like me much,” she suddenly said, her voice quiet but also free from judgment.
He sighed deeply, running his hand down his face as a yawn escaped his mouth. “She doesn’t hate you,” he said carefully.
“But she dislikes me.”
Asa pursed his lips, his head spinning as he thought about how to tackle this in the least offensive manner. “It’s complicated…” he replied and trailed off, knowing he was walking on eggshells; he hated it. Lately, with Isla, taking caution was becoming necessary because he no longer knew what was going to set her off next.
It didn’t use to be like that.
“How so?” She pushed, obviously not wanting to let the topic go.
“Well,” he paused, running his tongue over his mouth. “She doesn’t dislike you because of the reasons students at school dislike you. Ma doesn’t look down on you, if you know what I mean.”
Isla nodded and then looked away, taking a few sips of the hot drink before placing the mug back on the table and meeting Asa’s eyes once again.
“She just doesn’t trust me,” Isla said slowly, stating an observation rather than fishing for answers.
“I—”
“With you.”
“What?” Asa frowned, pulling his brows together.
“That’s it, right? She doesn’t trust me with you. She thinks I’ll end up being more of a burden than a friend.”
“Or maybe she’s just speaking from the experience of the countless times you’ve let me down, Isles.” He sighed. “So, yeah, of course she’s going to be protective.”
“It never bothered you before,” she muttered. “You always come running back.”
Anger flared in Asa’s gut, making him sit up straight and glare at Isla with incredulity all over his face. “Always come running back?” he repeated, beyond pissed.
Isla flushed and looked away. “Okay, fine—”
“I am not your lapdog.” He seethed, still finding it hard to wrap his head around the fact that she believed—she actually goddamn believed—he’d just let her walk over him repeatedly.
“Geez, okay!” she snapped, before letting out a groan and massaging her temples again. “God, can we just stop arguing? I’m too hungover
