Just Friends

by Monica Murphy

  Weird. His entire demeanor has changed so fast. I blink rapidly, willing myself to get up, get the hell out of there, but it’s like I’m paralyzed. He grabs hold of my wrist, fingers clamping tight, and my entire body goes stiff. “Let me go,” I whisper.

  “No. You listen to me first. We can come to an agreement, don’t you think? Stay out of my business and I’ll stay out of yours. Quit trying to convince your mom I’m not good enough.”

  I have no idea what he’s referring to. I don’t talk about Fitch to Mom. She knows I’m not thrilled with their relationship, but it’s not like we sit around trading stories about our boyfriends.

  Gross.

  “You can go ahead and spend all your time with your little boyfriend,” he murmurs, his gaze turning steely. I never noticed before how gray his eyes are, or how cold. “Just leave me alone.”

  Jerking out of his hold, I leap to my feet, the stool knocking to the ground with a clatter. I grab my bottle of water and get out of there, ignoring my mom when she calls out, “Is everything okay? Olivia? What’s going on?”

  I run down the hall, straight into my room, locking my door behind me. I flip the light switch on and glance around, my breath coming fast. Why does my room look…different? I swear to God someone’s rifling through my shit, looking for something.

  But what? Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

  A sharp knock sounds on my door, making me jump. “Who is it?” I ask shakily.

  “Who do you think it is?” Mom. She rattles the door handle. “Open the damn door right now.”

  Reluctantly, I unlock the door and she barges in just as I back up a few steps. “What’s wrong?” I ask her. God, if Fitch said something to her about our weird little talk…

  “What happened in the kitchen?” She shuts the door behind her before she turns to face me once more. “With Fitch? Were you two actually talking?”

  Oh God. This is my moment to tell her the truth—that her boyfriend is kind of a creeper who might or might not have a minor thing for me—or I can remain quiet and act like nothing is wrong.

  “Yeah.” I try to smile, but it’s like my lips won’t cooperate. “Um, he was offering me advice.”

  A skeptical brow shoots straight up. “What sort of advice?” Mom asks.

  “About life.” I shrug. “How things can change no matter how much I try to plan.” Well, that isn’t a total lie.

  “Huh.” She studies me, her gaze penetrating. I try not to squirm, since that’s a dead giveaway I’m uncomfortable. Instead I square my shoulders and stand up straight, pretend that nothing is bothering me. “You two are acting weird lately. If I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if you were both planning a birthday surprise for me.”

  Oh. That’s right. Her birthday is October 2nd, right after Ryan’s birthday. I couldn’t remember my own boyfriend’s birthday and I sure as hell wasn’t thinking about Mom’s either. “Why would you say that?” I ask innocently.

  She smiles. Out and out beams, really. “Okay. I can play along with this. But please, I have one request.”

  “What’s that?” I ask weakly.

  “No surprise parties. They’re the worst. And I don’t want an over the hill themed party either. I’m turning forty—that’s not a death sentence.”

  “Whatever you say,” I call after her as she exits my bedroom.

  Mom flashes me a sly look before she shuts my door. I go to it, quietly turn the lock and then collapse on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

  What a weird night.

  “Thank you so much for coming over and helping me,” I say in greeting as I answer Ryan’s front door.

  Amanda sends me a begrudging look as she enters the house, stopping in the grand foyer. “I’m only doing this for you,” she mumbles, her head shooting back so she can take in the impressive soaring ceiling. “Wow.”

  “I know.” I shut the door and turn the lock. It’s early Saturday afternoon and the party doesn’t start until eight, but I’m not taking any chances. I don’t want someone busting into the house unannounced. “This place is ridiculous.”

  I follow Amanda deeper into the house, and she collapses on one of the giant white couches, smoothing her hand over the surface. “Love the couch. His mom has good taste.”

  “Could be his dad who came up with this.” I sit on the loveseat opposite Amanda.

  “Come on. His dad is some techy nerd who lives for video games. He wouldn’t care what the house looked like as long as he has the latest game systems and a giant screen TV.” She points to the flat screen hanging on the wall. “And he’s got that, so life is good.”

  “You know what’s weird? Ryan doesn’t play video games. At all.” I asked him if he did, and while he didn’t come out and actually say it, I do think he resents how much his father loves video games. It’s to the point where he doesn’t spend much time with his family. He’s always working. His little brother Eli loves them and plays with their dad every chance he can get, which isn’t often.

  “Typical. The boy who has every game at his fingertips isn’t interested. We always want what we can’t have.” She glances around the living room, taking in every perfect detail, no doubt. “Why am I here so early again? You wanted me to help you clean? This place is immaculate.”

  I roll my eyes. “We need to go shopping first, for party supplies.”

  Amanda makes a little face but remains quiet.

  “And then we’re coming back here and we’re going to decorate!” I clap my hands together excitedly, but her lackluster response tells me she’s not feeling the same way. I drop my hands and mock pout instead. “Come on, Amanda. It’ll be fun.”

  “Fun helping you put up cheesy decorations so your boyfriend will think it’s true love and I won’t get any credit? No thanks,” she mutters, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  Ouch. Negative much? “I promise I’ll give you equal credit.”

  “Right, and that’ll make all the difference to Ryan.” She leans her head back on the sofa, sinking into the plush cushion. “I can think of a lot better ways to spend my Saturday.”

  “Why are you being such a jerk?” I rise to my feet so I can quickly slap her thigh before I fall back into the loveseat. She glowers at me, rubbing her bare leg. That’s what she gets for wearing short shorts. Another heat wave has come through the Valley and it sucks. “You’re usually up for anything!”

  “Sorry.” She shakes her head, still absently stroking her thigh. My smack left a red mark on her skin and I feel bad. “It’s been a shitty week.”

  And I’ve been a shitty friend because I haven’t noticed. “Why? What’s going on?”

  Sighing, she starts plucking at a thread on the couch. “Since I quit band my parents have been on my back, especially my mom. She truly believed it would be my ticket to college.”

  “Playing in the band?” I don’t get how, but whatever.

  “Getting a music scholarship. My family isn’t like everyone else around here. They can’t afford to send me to the college of my choice. And though I’ve always been in honors classes, I’m not what you would call a well-rounded student. The only activity I ever participated in was band.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing…”

  “The problem is it was the only thing. Now I’m not in band and it’s our senior year. My parents think I ruined my chances.” Her face crumples and I’m scared she’s going to cry. “They said since I have all of this free time now, I need to go find a job to help pay for my college expenses.”

  The tears start to flow down her face and I move so I’m sitting next to her, wrapping her up in an awkward hug, trying to pat her back, offer up some comfort. Mom won’t let me to get a part-time job. She says high school is my job and she wants me to focus on my schoolwork. I’m a decent student, though not in all honors classes like Amanda. While I would never get into an Ivy League university, I bet Amanda could. She’s super smart and ambitious.

  “What if y
ou joined some clubs?” I suggest, still patting her shoulder.

  Amanda sniffs and lifts her head, our gazes meeting. “What sort of clubs? The Chess Club? Math Club? Space Club? Those are all for nerds.”

  I can’t believe she’d bash her own kind—and I mean that in the nicest way. I’ve always been middle of the road at school. Not totally unpopular, but not quite popular either. Amanda strays toward the nerd side and she’d never deny it. Quiet, studious, in band—she fit all the particulars. And she liked it there, had admitted to me recently that she felt comfortable there. Safe.

  Moving out of her regular social circle scared her. It scared me too.

  “There’s a Space Club?” I ask, wrinkling my nose. I know there’s one, but I’m trying to make her laugh. It doesn’t work.

  She makes a noise of frustration and pulls away from me, swiping at her tear -stained cheeks. “There’s all sorts of clubs on campus, but they don’t count for shit when it comes to getting into a quality school. Unless maybe I can get on the yearbook staff—that would look good.” Another sniffle, but at least there’s no more tears. “Maybe you could help me with that?”

  “I can and I will. I already told you I would. Consider it done,” I say firmly. “Maybe you could talk to one of the guys on the football team too. See if they can help you.”

  “With what? How can they help me?” Amanda asks incredulously.

  “You never know. Maybe you could assist with games or whatever. Take stats. Everyone knows how much you love football.” I shrug, feeling dumb.

  “Hmm. Maybe I should do that for the basketball team. They have assistants who take stats for every game.” She taps a finger against her pursed lips. “That’s a good idea.”

  Basketball makes me think of Dustin and I immediately feel…I don’t know. Sad? Conflicted? I miss him. He’s kept his distance just like he said he would. He doesn’t talk to me, not really, but he’s not out and out rude either. We say hi in the one class we share and that’s about it.

  He’s spending lots of time with Tuttle lately, which is weird. Tuttle seems to have turned his back on pretty much everyone on the football team. It’s odd. But no one ever said Tuttle made much sense. The guy does whatever he wants and if anyone questions him, they can go fuck themselves.

  I know this is true because I witnessed him saying exactly that to Ryan once.

  “I still need to find a job, though,” Amanda says, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m going to start searching on Monday. I have a few prospects lined up.”

  “That sucks.” I feel bad for her and wish I had a solution. “Want me to help you?”

  “Only if you want to.” She shrugs. “I know there are financial aid options and student loans for college. I really don’t want to take on loans, though. Debt scares me. I don’t even know if I can get into the university of my choice. I mean, my SAT scores are good, but still.” Her mouth curves downward. “ I don’t want to be stuck going to the local community college for a couple of years.”

  Her face starts to crumple again, but I won’t let her cry. No way. This is a day for celebrating, not being sad.

  I leap to my feet and take her hands, dragging her along with me. “Come on. Let’s go eat lunch—my treat—and then we’ll go to Party City and pick out the silliest decorations we can find, okay? It’ll be awesome.”

  “Okay.” Amanda offers a watery smile and nods. “Okay.”

  It’s much later in the afternoon and we’re stringing black and white streamers all over the living room, careful to only use tape for fear of putting holes in the wall with pushpins when Ryan enters the living room, accompanied by…Tuttle.

  For real.

  Amanda scowls from her perch on top of the step stool, the black and white streamers twisted around each other slipping from her hand and unraveling on the ground. “What the hell are you doing here?” Her question is clearly directed at Tuttle.

  We talked about him over lunch and she admitted how glad she was that Ryan and Tuttle weren’t really hanging out anymore. It meant she didn’t have to deal with him as much, and while I still didn’t quite understand what was going on with those two, I did get that she wanted nothing to do with Tuttle. He must’ve really hurt her feelings or did something stupid to make her act like this. Because I can admit this—though I would never say it in front of Ryan—Tuttle is smoking hot. But his intensity scares me, so I’m not tempted.

  Maybe all that intensity freaks Amanda out too. I’m not sure.

  “Love of my life.” Tuttle’s gaze is locked on Amanda as he rests his hand on his chest, just like always. “You wound me with your cruel and wicked tone.”

  “What’s the deal? Have you turned into Shakespeare?” I ask him, smiling as Ryan approaches me. I tilt my head back for his kiss and he doesn’t disappoint, his mouth moving lazily over mine, a quick swipe of tongue before he pulls away.

  “You have to admit she treats me like shit,” Tuttle says to me, pointing at Amanda. “When I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Amanda snorts in response.

  “It’s true.” He turns to her. “You know how I feel. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away.”

  My ears perk up. Ah, now the conversation becomes super interesting. I’ve only ever heard Amanda’s side of the story…

  “Come with me,” Ryan murmurs close to my ear, his lips touching my skin and making me shiver. “I want to show you something.”

  Damn it. I want to eavesdrop, but I can’t say no to Ryan. So I follow after him, clutching his fingers tightly as he leads me through the house and outside where there are two giant kegs set up on the lawn near the pool. “Whatcha think?” He points at the kegs.

  I thought he was going to show me something romantic. Or say something romantic. Anything romantic. But he’s too excited by the prospect of all that beer for tonight. “Um, they’re awesome?”

  “Hell yeah, they are. Tuttle’s birthday present to me,” he says proudly.

  “How…thoughtful.” I make a little face, but it’s like he doesn’t even notice. He’s too enthralled with the kegs. In fact, he’s standing beside one now, running his hand over the top of it almost lovingly.

  “I have good friends.” He lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. “And a great girlfriend.”

  He comes to me then, wrapping me up in his arms and lifting me off my feet. I squeal, my arms shooting around his neck and holding on tight. He’s laughing, and I’m laughing and I remember when I first met him, how intimidating he’d been, yet sexy. So incredibly sexy and a little edgy, a little intense…

  Ryan isn’t really like that now. He’s my boyfriend. We flirt and we have fun and he’s the best kisser and the best everything else, though I have to admit, he’s a little selfish. Where Dustin always wanted to make sure I was satisfied too, Ryan wasn’t as conscious of that.

  And I shouldn’t be thinking of Dustin right now. That’s totally wrong and unfair. Everyone’s different. Ryan is the perfect guy for me.

  His mouth finds mine once more, and I’m lost. Dizzy. His damp lips and hot tongue, his roaming hands and whispered words of promise for later. What would happen later.

  I plan on giving him everything he wanted tonight. I’m not even nervous. This night belongs to him.

  It will be perfect.

  “You’re staying the night with me, right?”

  I glance to my right to find Ryan standing beside me, a red cup clutched in his hand, a loopy grin on his face. He’s drunk, but so am I, so I guess we make an excellent match.

  The party has been raging for a couple of hours. At one point there were so many people spilling out into the backyard, I was afraid the neighbors would report us and the cops would come break the party up. But I’m guessing Ryan has easygoing neighbors because we haven’t seen the police yet.

  “You want me to stay, right?” I bat my eyelashes, trying my best to give him a suggestive smile and his gaze heats, his brows shooting up. He taps his cup against the one I’m clutching in
a silent toast and we both drink.

  I nearly choke when Amanda’s elbow digs into my side, reminding me that she’s standing right next to me. I was gossiping with her not one second before my boyfriend approached and asked me that silly question.

  My boyfriend. I loved thinking that. Saying it out loud.

  “You two are so disgustingly into each other, it’s gross,” Amanda mutters, shaking her head.

  Ryan glares while I swallow the rest of my beer. For some reason, he’s not digging Amanda tonight. It’s like he wants all of my attention and I’ve been giving it to him, but I finally needed a break. There’s only so much I can tolerate, listening to him drone on about football and stats and workouts and practices with his circle of friends. Amanda is better at listening to that stuff, but she’s staying away from Tuttle like he has a disease so I can’t count on her hanging out with us.

  Lots of people have brought Ryan gifts for his birthday, especially the jealous, pretty girls who act like they want to take him away from me. I’ve stood next to him for most of the night, clutching his arm and glaring at any female who dares cross his path. He doesn’t seem bothered by my possessiveness, though a few times he did tell me to lighten up after I gave the death stare to yet another group of giggling girls who wanted to wish him a happy birthday.

  “I’m going to hang out with Amanda for a little bit longer, okay?” I grab his hand and stand on tiptoe, kissing his cheek. He smells good, spicy and warm with a hint of beer. I run my lips along his strong jaw before they find his mouth. “Meet me in your room in an hour?”

  His hand settles on my butt, giving it a squeeze and making me yelp. “Midnight,” he whispers. “You better be waiting.”

  Anticipation races through my veins as he sends me one last, meaningful look before he slips away. The crowd seems to embrace him, Cannon patting him on the back as Tuttle hands him yet another beer.