Just Friends

by Tiffany Pitcock

  “Because it was my year to set it up.”

  “Excuse you, it was my year.”

  “That’s not how I remember it.”

  “That’s the thing with fake pasts: Everyone remembers it differently,” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers.

  They grew quiet then, taking solace in each other’s company.

  “I hate your parents,” she said suddenly, her voice unusually loud in the quiet. “I know it’s ridiculous and unreasonable, but I hate them. I’ve never met them but I hate them.”

  “I’m not too fond of them myself,” he told her. He doubted she could see his expression in the dark, so she couldn’t possibly read how much her outburst meant to him. He suspected it was the single kindest thing anyone had ever said to him. Or at least the most thoughtful. “I admire parents who earn their children’s respect. There are so many parents who demand respect just because they gave birth to you but do nothing at all to earn it. There are so many parents who treat their children like shit.…” He thought of his parents dragging him into their fights.

  He could sense Jenny studying him in the dark, from his narrowed eyes to his balled-up fists.

  “I get the feeling you’re not speaking abstractly here.”

  “I’m not going to be that kind of selfish parent,” he told her, his voice strong with conviction. “I mean, if I become a parent at all.”

  “Of course you’re not,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And I’m not going to abandon my family. We’re not going to be them.” She paused a moment before adding, “Though we might be every nineties movie cliché right now. Quick, say something antiestablishment.”

  “Screw the man.”

  “Yeah!” Jenny exclaimed, laughing. “How punk rock of you.”

  “You know me.”

  Her laugh died on her lips as their eyes met. “Yeah,” she said slowly, “I do.”

  He could see the reflection of the Christmas lights in her eyes. They were set on chase and running circles around her irises. The red, blue, and green hues lit up her entire left side, leaving the right side of her face in shadow. He leaned forward, reaching up to brush aside some hair that had escaped from her high ponytail.

  Her breath hitched as his fingertips grazed her temple, and he suddenly found it very hard to breathe. He leaned in, his hand slowly making its way down the side of her face to cup the back of her head.

  “Chance…” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I—”

  Footsteps thundered down the stairs, approaching quickly. They hardly had time to break apart before they were cast in bright light, blinking away the spots in their vision.

  Jack stood in the doorway for just a second, his bedhead making him look only slightly more disheveled than usual, before throwing himself onto the couch between the two of them.

  “So,” he said, looking from his sister to Chance, “I take it you guys are too excited to sleep, too?”

  CHAPTER 17

  Jenny

  The first snow was the day after Christmas. Jenny and Chance sat in the living room, watching season six of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a bowl of Chex Mix between them.

  “I don’t get why it continued after season five,” Chance said honestly, reaching into the bowl. He was sitting cross-legged, a throw blanket draped over him. He gestured to the TV. “It had the perfect ending, and then it moved to UPN and got depressing.”

  Jenny looked horrified. “Season six is my favorite,” she defended. “It’s realistic. The demons aren’t from hell; they’re from the real world. Besides, it has the musical episode.”

  “I will give it that: ‘Once More with Feeling’ is an exemplary episode.” He relaxed against the sofa, brown eyes fixed on the TV.

  Her mother had taken Jessa to Phillip’s to meet his family, but she’d left Jenny and Jack behind to stay with Chance. Chance hadn’t mentioned what had happened at home. He was ignoring it, and although she didn’t like it, Jenny figured that was for the best.

  They were halfway through the episode where Buffy turns invisible when Jack came running downstairs, his footsteps echoing throughout the house. He flew past the living room in a blur of wool scarves and a giant parka, and was out the front door in a flash. Jenny and Chance started, staring after him curiously.

  Jenny jumped up to follow. She was supposed to be watching him; he was grounded for saying a certain four-letter word at dinner the night before. She couldn’t let him run off somewhere.

  Jack had left the door wide open and was already halfway through the front yard, twirling around in the snow, his arms out wide and head tilted upward. Wait—snow? Jenny looked up, seeing fluffy flakes flittering from the sky, lightly landing on the ground and piling up. It was actually snowing! They never got snow this early in the year, not in the South. It was actually snowing in December!

  Jenny ran back into the living room, as excited as Jessa had been that morning, rushing to the couch and grabbing Chance by the arm, pulling him up.

  “Chance! It’s snowing!”

  He looked at her dubiously. “Are you sure it’s not freezing rain?”

  “It’s not, I promise! C’mon, look!”

  She dragged him from the couch and shoved him toward the front door.

  Chance stood in the doorway, looking out into the yard. There was already a considerable dusting covering the grass and the cars, melting only when it touched asphalt. There was no telling how long it’d actually been snowing—neither of them had bothered to check until now. They watched as Jack continued to run around the yard, yelling ecstatically. Other people had begun to emerge from their houses to enjoy the snow as well.

  Jenny rushed upstairs to change into warmer clothes, calling behind her, “Let’s go outside!”

  “I don’t have anything but my hoodie!” Chance called up to her.

  Fifteen minutes later, the pair stood outside, Jenny in her heaviest green peacoat with a knit gray scarf, hat, and gloves; Chance in his raggedy black hoodie and one of Jenny’s old white knit scarves, a green hat, and magenta gloves. He looked at Jenny bitterly.

  “I look ridiculous.”

  She reached out, dusting some snow off his shoulder. “You look adorable.”

  Snowflakes were sticking to the tips of his hair; he reached up to brush some out of his eyes. “Wanna build a snowman?”

  “I’d love to.”

  They ran around the yard like children, snow twirling to the ground all around them. It was building up fast, new flakes replacing the ones they stole for their snowman. Chance set to work on the base while Jenny crafted the torso and Jack the head. As the snowfall grew heavier, Jenny rolled the snow along the ground, picking up fresh layers on her snow torso. She looked up from her task, taking a moment to watch Chance work.

  His nose was already pink from the cold and his hoodie was soaked through. He worked carefully, rolling the large snowball around the ground in orderly lines, trying to make the base as even as possible. His bangs hung in his eyes as he looked down, and she longed to push them back into his hat. Her fingers practically ached for it.

  The cold air bit at her face and her gloves were cold and damp, but she didn’t care. To her, right there, that moment was perfect. She stooped down, scooping up some snow in her hands. She molded it into the perfect snowball. She weighed it in her hand, waiting for the opportune moment. The second Chance was lost in his task, she launched, volleying the snowball straight into the back of his head.

  He spun around, sputtering. “What the hell?”

  He looked so ridiculous standing there in the magenta gloves, with snow dripping from the back of his head, expression adorably confused. Jenny couldn’t help but laugh. She kept laughing while Chance processed what had happened, not noticing when he crouched down to make a snowball of his own. In fact, she kept laughing up until the moment said snowball hit her in the chest.

  Now it was Chance’s turn to laugh. “I can’t believe you didn’t try to dodge that!” he s
aid, howling with laughter. “You look so shocked.”

  She looked down at the snow clinging to the front of her peacoat. “Oh, it is on now. This means war.”

  He spread his arms tauntingly. “I’m ready.”

  She ducked behind her partial snowman, scooping up more snow. Adrenaline filled her as she tossed the next one, hitting him in the leg. A snowball sailed over her head, hitting the tree that separated her yard from the neighbors’.

  “You gotta be better than that, Chance!” she called, emerging from her crouch to throw another.

  He had anticipated her move, waiting until the moment she exposed herself to throw his next two, both hitting her in the abdomen. The cold seeped through the fabric of her coat, but she hardly noticed. She launched another one, missing Chance by inches.

  Chance took cover behind Jenny’s mom’s car, which sat in the driveway completely blanketed with snow. Jenny ran up to the car, tossing her next snowball over it. “You can’t hide behind a car,” she told him. “That’s not fair.”

  Chance ran around the back of the car then, grabbing her by the waist and tackling her to the ground. They landed side by side, the fall knocking the breath out of her.

  “Cheating!” Jenny wheezed when she could finally speak again. She turned her head, the snow sticking to her clothes like a second skin, and glared at her best friend. “That is definitely cheating.”

  Chance’s hat had fallen off in the tussle and his damp hair stuck to the sides of his face. He smiled brilliantly.

  “There are no rules in a snowball fight, Wessler.”

  Her pulse quickened, and she remembered another night where they had lain like this, on the barn floor. Looking back, she had barely known him then. Now he was essential to her being. She couldn’t picture this moment with anyone but Chance. No one else could fit so perfectly beside her. She thought of Christmas morning, sitting on the couch and leaning toward him.…

  I love him, she realized, reaching out to squeeze his hand. He’s my best friend and I love him.

  “Chance, I—”

  A snowball sailed through the air, connecting with the side of her head. She sat up, sputtering, barely catching sight of Jack as he ran around the corner of the house, laughing victoriously.

  “Good one, Jack!” Chance called, jumping to his feet. He scooped up some snow, running into the backyard after her brother.

  Jenny sat there, the snow soaking through her jeans. Her heart was thundering in her chest. The cold wasn’t the only reason her face was turning red. Guilt washed over her as she heard Chance’s and Jack’s laughs echoing from the backyard. She wasn’t allowed to feel anything for Chance, not anymore. She had a boyfriend, for goodness’ sake! A boyfriend she hadn’t even called since Christmas Eve.

  She got to her feet, heading back inside to find her phone. She had to call him, to take her mind off Chance lying in the snow next to her. It wasn’t fair to Drake for her to think of Chance that way. Drake liked her so much. He was a good guy.

  She found her phone upstairs on her bed. She sat down, dialing Drake’s number.

  “Hey,” she said when he answered.

  “Hey to you, too.” He laughed. “Have you been out in the snow yet?”

  She let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, a little bit.”

  “Do you want to play in the snow together?” he asked. “The roads aren’t bad, so I could swing by and pick you up.”

  “You could just hang out here, if you want. Mom is at Phillip’s, so it won’t be a problem.”

  “Oh, so I’m only allowed when your mother’s not home?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This is the first time you’ve invited me over,” he said, as if it were obvious.

  Jenny opened her mouth to respond, but stopped. Oh my god, he’s right. She had never invited him over. It had never even occurred to her to ask him over before. They hung out at band practices and gigs and school, and she never thought to do anything more than that.

  “I’ll be over in thirty,” Drake said, breaking the silence. “See you then.”

  I’m a bad girlfriend. Jenny lowered the phone from her ear, looking at it. The guilt from before crept over her again, tenfold. I’ve been a bad girlfriend and I haven’t even realized it. How do other people do this?

  * * *

  “YOU DON’T HAVE to leave,” Jenny told Chance. “We can all hang out.”

  They stood in the kitchen, melted snow dripping off them. Jack had taken the news that Drake was coming over quite well, just shrugging and asking if he could go to a friend’s to play video games.

  “You’re grounded,” Jenny had pointed out.

  “I won’t tell Mom you had your boyfriend over,” he’d countered.

  “Deal.”

  They’d shaken on it.

  Chance shook his head, though, water droplets cascading to the floor. “I should let you two have some time alone.” He took the towel that Jenny offered, rubbing it through his hair. “Besides, I think it’s time I check on Mom. We’ve both had some time to calm down.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. She hated to chase him out of the house.

  “Yeah, it’s fine.” He handed the towel back to her. “I can’t hide out here forever; we both know that.”

  She followed him to the foyer. “You can come straight back here if you need to.”

  “I know.” He paused by the door to smile down at her. “Don’t look so worried,” he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair like he had Jessa’s. “I can take care of myself. Tell your mother thanks for letting me stay.”

  “Chance—”

  “Wessler, it’s all right. Your boyfriend is coming over; it’s not my place to keep you from that. And, to be honest, I don’t feel like being around a happy couple right now. So focus on him, okay?”

  He was right. She needed to clear her head of him—sitting across from her in the dark, leaning ever closer—altogether.

  “All right. I’ll call you later to see how you’re doing.”

  He had barely cleared the driveway when the doorbell rang, causing her to break out in a light sweat. This is it. Drake’s here.

  Drake looked good. His hair was damp from the snow and Jenny could smell the faint scent of his Axe body wash wafting off him. He was so much taller than her—taller than Chance, even. He stormed past her, heading straight for the living room. She could feel the anger radiating off him in waves, but she wasn’t sure why.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, closing the door behind him.

  He ignored her question. “Did I just pass Chance leaving your house?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “He’s going home.”

  Drake looked down at her, his jaw twitching. “He comes over here?”

  She nodded dumbly. “He’s my best friend.”

  “I assumed when you called me it was because you wanted—never mind.” Drake stopped, shaking his head. “I’m being dumb. Of course he’s your best friend, I know that.” He stopped to look around. “So this is your house, huh? Give me the tour.”

  She eyed him warily. She was almost positive that he was still irritated. “Well, that’s the living room.” She pointed toward said room. “The dining room-slash-kitchen is in there.”

  Drake was still looking down at her. “What about your room?”

  “My room?”

  “Yeah, can I see your room?”

  Heat flooded her face. Was he asking what she thought he was asking? “It’s upstairs. We can take a look, if you want.”

  It was different than showing Chance her room. She was worried that Drake would judge her, would look around at her girly decor and scoff. She never feared that Chance would judge her, but it felt like Drake was looking at everything under a magnifying glass, ready to pounce on anything he could.

  He didn’t ask about the medal on the door or mock the princess bed frame. He threw himself down on the bed, feet dangling off the end. He looked good, stretched out there, his shirt riding
up and his skinny jeans riding low. “This is it?” he asked.

  Jenny looked down at him. “You’re not even looking at it.”

  “I’m looking at you.” But he sat up, looking around. “It’s nice. I like the bookshelf. What’s that?” He got up, crossing the room and picking up a shirt that had been dropped under her desk. “Are you secretly a slob who throws her dirty laundry on the—” He broke off. He’d been absentmindedly holding the shirt out to get a look at it, but now he stared at it, frozen.

  Jenny took a good look at it, too. It was forest green and short sleeved, with a faded logo of some sports team on the front. It was Chance’s favorite shirt—he wore it all the time. Not because he cared about the team or whatever, but because the mascot on it was making the dumbest face he’d ever seen.

  Jenny reached for it instinctively, and something about her expression must have given it all away. Drake balled up the shirt in his hand.

  “What is this doing here?” he asked, glaring down at her. “What is Masters’s shirt doing here, in your room?”

  Jenny was trying to figure out the same thing. He must’ve left it one morning when he changed out of the clothes he’d slept in. He always did that while she was checking to make sure the coast was clear to sneak him downstairs.

  “He must’ve left it.”

  That only enraged Drake more. “What was he doing in your room without a shirt on?”

  “Changing,” she answered.

  “Why was he changing in your room?” He tossed the shirt at her.

  Chance’s family issues weren’t her secret to tell, but she had to do something.

  “Things are tense at his house, okay? Sometimes he stays here to avoid going home.” But that was the wrong thing to say.

  “He sleeps here?!” Drake looked around her room with disgust. “Chance Masters is sleeping with my girlfriend?!”

  “No!” She rushed forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like that, I promise!”

  He looked down at her incredulously. “He’s Chance Masters, Jenny. I know what it’s like.”

  “He needed a place to stay!”

  But he wasn’t even listening. “I was so happy when you invited me over. I thought we were finally getting somewhere, but I should’ve known he was here first. Is there anywhere Chance hasn’t been first?” He shot a pointed look at her bed.