An Uphill Battle

by LK Farlow

  Clearing my throat, I mumble, “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Barnes. How’re y’all this evening?”

  “We’re doing well, just meeting Azalea—”

  “Well, we’d better get going,” I tell them, sounding rude as hell, all the while trying to move Kasey forward. But I’m too late.

  “Hey, Mom, sorry I’m late—” Azalea says, sounding out of breath, coming to a stop right in front of me. Close enough to touch. “Oh, um. Wow. Hi,” she says, her eyes flitting from me to Kasey and back again. “Wow. Um. Okay, well, it was, um, nice seeing you, Drake. Hope y’all had . . .” She trails off, her eyes glassy, which baffles me because I saw her checking out those guys the other day.

  “Nope, fuck this,” she mutters under her breath, but loud enough for us to hear. “Mom, Pops, let’s go eat. I’m sure they have our table ready, and I’m sure Drake and his date have”—she waves her hand in our direction—“stuff to do. Let’s go!” Azalea grabs her mom by the purse strap and all but drags her toward the table they always reserve when they eat here.

  I start to head for the door, but Mr. Barnes clears his throat, bringing me up short. “Son, I’m not sure what’s goin’ on, but use your brain. Please? One of y’all has to.”

  Giving him a terse nod, I point Kasey back toward the exit, and we silently walk to my truck.

  “Wanna explain to me what just happened?” she asks, sounding reasonably annoyed.

  I mull over my words, wondering how I should play this. I could tell her that she’s no one important, but fuck if my brain won’t send the words to my mouth. So, I settle on the truth, as painful as it may be. “That was my . . . everything.” My words shock us both, because I swear on my life, I meant to say ex, but “everything” just popped right on out.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Thing is, Kasey, I just came out of a really long, really rough relationship. Hell, I’m not even sure it could be called a relationship, but that woman has my ass tied up in knots, and if I’m bein’ honest, I’m not really over her or even sure I’m ready to try and be over her.”

  I’m not sure what sort of reaction I was anticipating, but I’m pleasantly surprised when she beams her pearly whites at me and nods. “Story of my life. Man, I sure know how to pick ’em. Well, Drake, as much as I wish you were on the market, I get it. I really do. I’m recently single too, and my breakup was bad enough that it caused me to move here from the next county over.”

  “Aren’t we a pair? So, friends?” I ask her, a hopeful smile resting on my lips.

  “Yeah, Drake, friends.” She laughs, and it lights up her entire face, just like Azalea when she—Stop, Drake, just stop. “You know, you might just be the hottest friend I’ve ever had. If you decide you’re ready for something more, even a rebound, you let me know.”

  Smirking at her forwardness, I tell her, “Sure will. But for now, the only thing I’m really wantin’ right now is some ice cream.”

  I take Kasey to my favorite ice cream shop, Scoops, where the ice cream is made in-house from local ingredients. To call it good is an understatement. I order a triple-scoop of chocolate in a waffle cone and Kasey gets a single of strawberry in a sugar cone.

  “You wanna eat in here, or in my truck?” I ask, watching her lick away at her cone.

  “Here’s fine. It’s nice and toasty.”

  We post up at a table in the corner, and I’m two scoops in when Kasey finally speaks up. “What’s the story with you and blondie?”

  “Long. It’s a long story.”

  She looks around the empty parlor, her eyes comically wide. “What else’ve we got to do?”

  “Guess you’re right. Okay, let’s see, short version? I’ve loved her since I was sixteen. We both’ve made some stupid choices. I suck at communicating, and she’s stuck in the past. Things recently blew up between us, and I’m learning to navigate life without the one person I planned on spending it with.”

  “Alrighty then,” Kasey says through her smile.

  “Are you laughin’ at me?” I ask her, crunching into my cone.

  “Maybe a little.”

  “You think you’ll ever get over her?”

  “Honestly? No. I don’t.”

  Frowning, Kasey reaches across the table for my hand. It startles me, because damn, we just agreed to be friends. “Sometimes, it takes knowing what you’re missing to figure out you miss it.”

  “I’m not followin’,” I tell her.

  “I’m just saying, if you ever wanna make her jealous—you know, show her what she lost—I’ll help you.”

  “No. No way. Stupid games are what got us in this mess.”

  “Okay, Drake, that’s fine. Just thought I’d offer.” She stands from the booth, and I follow suit, both of us beelining for my truck.

  “Guess I’ll take you back to your car now?”

  “Sounds good, and thanks for tonight and for your honesty. I appreciate it more than you know.”

  The drive back to her car is silent, and her words about making Azalea jealous run on a loop through my mind. Would that work? Would she even care? Would it make things worse? Can things even get worse?

  I glide my truck into the spot parallel to Kasey’s car as she unbuckles, moving toward her door, but before she can grip the handle, I pull her hand away. “Do you really think it would work? Makin’ Azalea jealous?”

  “Seeing as I’ve been a woman since the day I was born, I know it’ll work. Women always want what they can’t have. We diet, we crave chocolate. Our man moves on, we want him back. Trust me—she’ll be on you like white on rice.”

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  23

  Azalea

  I’m miserable, and it’s all my fault. And isn’t that a really sucky reality? The knowledge that I let my hopes and dreams—my future—slip through my fingers and into the arms of a stunning brunette because I was so caught up in the past that I was blind to the present . . .

  It. Effing. Sucks.

  I had myself so convinced that Drake only wanted me for a little boot-knocking fun that I built the walls around my heart so damn thick and strong, and they were pretty much impenetrable. The man straight up told me he loved me, and he definitely showed it through his actions, and now, he’s someone else’s.

  Cue the anger, because my God, it sure didn’t take him long to rebound. I’ve spent the last week since seeing him with his . . . whatever she is . . . at Trattoria going through the motions at work and coming straight home to sulk. How pathetic am I?

  No. This isn’t me. I’m not some weak little girl who crumbles when life doesn’t go her way. I’m a fucking fighter, and I’m ready for the next round.

  It’s time to break out of this melancholic funk I’ve been in since Thanksgiving. Snatching my phone from the end of my bed, I dial Seraphine. “Hello there, AzzyJo,” she chirps into the phone.

  “Seraphine, please tell me you’re free tonight?”

  “Free as a bird. Why, what’s up?”

  “Let’s go out!” I tell her, bouncing in my seat, excited by the prospect of getting my groove back, so to speak.

  “For real? You really wanna go out?” I tell her I do, and she squeals into the phone. “Awesome! Can I invite the girls?”

  “Of course you can. Hopefully, Myles can get a sitter.”

  “We’ll see. I’ll text you and let you know. Let’s meet at Big O’s around eight thirty?”

  “See you then!” I tell her, tossing my phone back down onto the bed. This calls for primping, because Lord knows, if I’m going to step foot back into the bar where Drake and I fell apart, I’m gonna look my best doing it. And you know, after the last few weeks, I’m looking rough.

  I pull up to Big O’s ten minutes early and make my way inside to grab us a table. The bar is already bustling with people, and I’m ready for a good time—ready to forget for a while.

  Not even seven minutes later, Magnolia and Seraphine plop down into chairs next to me. “Myles can’t make it,” Seraphine
says as she signals for a waitress.

  “Figured she wouldn’t be able to.”

  “What can I get you ladies?” our server asks in a bored tone.

  I order a vodka and cranberry, Magnolia orders a glass of white wine, and Seraphine orders a Shirley Temple, what with her being well under twenty-one.

  Our waitress walks off, and Seraphine immediately redirects our conversation. “So, not that I’m not happy you’re finally out of your sad shell, but why the sudden change?”

  “I’m still sad. Probably will be for a while, but crying into my pillow won’t change shit. I want Drake back, and we’re gonna figure out a plan.” Magnolia looks worried by my words, but Seraphine breaks out into an almost evil smile.

  “Oh, yes, let’s scheme!” We pause as our drinks are delivered. “Okay, so do you have an idea in mind?”

  “No,” I tell her honestly. I take a sip of vodka cranberry, my lips puckering at the tartness.

  “What about . . .” She taps her finger on her bottom lip a few times before her eyes go wide.

  “What? Did you think of something?” I ask, smacking my palms down onto the table.

  “Uh, no.” Her eyes move from mine to the doorway, flitting nervously. “Don’t freak out or anything, but Drake is here.”

  “And he’s not alone,” Magnolia adds, taking a quick sip of her wine before making a sour face.

  “What?” My breath whooshes out of me like someone’s squeezing my lungs.

  “Yeah, he’s with some leggy brunette,” Seraphine tells me, and I already know it’s the same girl he was with when I ran into him. The girl who’s everything I’m not and who has everything I want.

  Slowly, I twist around in my seat, my eyes instantly finding him. I fight back the tears when I see his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to a table smack-dab in the middle of the bar. The kind of table you sit at to be seen.

  I can’t help but watch them, even though I want nothing more than to look away. Especially when his eyes lock onto mine and he lowers his lips to her ear, whispering God knows what while staring right at me.

  It’s like a damn train wreck, dark and painful, but I can’t look away.

  She throws her head back and laughs at whatever he just whispered to her, and I swear to God, I can feel my heart crumbling in my chest. Sam Hunt hit the nail on the head with “Break Up in a Small Town.”

  He eventually looks away from me to focus on his date, twirling a lock of hair around his fingers while listening intently to what she’s saying to him.

  “You know you’re totally hotter than she is, right?” Seraphine asks, pulling me from my self-induced torture.

  I snort. “Sure, okay. In what universe?”

  “In this one. The one where that man has loved you since he was sixteen years old.”

  “Seraphine—”

  “No, you listen to me. Y’all both made some really dumb choices, and y’all communicate about as well as toddlers, but I know he loves you and that you love him. So, forget that he’s over there parading around some rebound, because we both know that’s all she is. We’re gonna order another round, and come up with a foolproof plan to win you back your man.”

  Seraphine hops down from her tall chair and heads straight to the bar, which makes me laugh, because the only thing she can order is her own drink. “I guess I’ll go with her,” I say to Mags.

  “No, you sit. I’ll go. I really just want a water this time around.”

  “Hey, Mags, why do you always order wine when we go out and never drink more than a sip or two?”

  She shrugs her shoulders and mumbles something about old habits dying hard before walking over to the bar to help Seraphine.

  Alone, with no distraction, my eyes slip back over to Drake and his date, and once again, he’s looking right at me. Only this time, he nudges his date, and she looks over at me too. The three of us are locked in the most awkward stare-down ever, until finally, she winks at me before leaning in and pressing a swift kiss to his cheek.

  The sight of her lips on him burns like acid in my veins. I slam back the remnants of my drink in one gulp, and when Seraphine and Magnolia return to the table with fresh drinks in hand, I swallow that one down in two.

  “Whoa, girl, let’s slow down,” Seraphine murmurs, her voice soft and sympathetic. I glare at her, but it does nothing. “Don’t look at me like that, AzzyJo. The way I see it, you have two options. You can be Ms. Mopey Moperson, or we can get back to work on figuring up a way for you to win him back.”

  I turn to look at Drake one last time, only to find they’re no longer at their table. Manically, I scan the room, my eyes finally settling on them as they sway and dip and roll together like they’ve done it a million times before on the dance floor.

  “Look at them,” I tell Seraphine and Magnolia. “Do I even stand a chance? Look at how happy he looks.”

  “Just because a person is smiling, doesn’t mean they’re happy,” Magnolia cryptically mumbles into her glass.

  “Mags, one day, you’re gonna open up to me about what went down in Charleston,” Seraphine tells her cousin, who’s already shaking her head in refusal. “Don’t worry, I don’t mean tonight. Right now, we need to scheme.”

  Magnolia lets out a relieved breath now that the spotlight has shifted back to me and my man-troubles. “I’m all for scheming, but can we do it somewhere else? I think I might die if I have to see him touch her one more time.”

  The girls agree, and we all weave our way through the crowd to the bar to pay, since it seems our waitress has ghosted on us. We’re patiently waiting for the bartender to make her way down to us when I feel him. Not physically, but his presence. Discreetly, I roll my eyes up to my left, and sure enough, there he is, right beside me, his date in tow.

  “Good evenin’, Azalea,” he says, smiling just enough for that small, sexy gap in his front teeth to show. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce y’all the other week, but this is Kasey. Kasey, this is Azalea. We went to high school together.” We went to high school together? That’s it?

  “Drake Collins,” Seraphine spits, saving me from having to reply. “I’d say it’s nice to see you, but this time, I don’t think I’d mean it. You have a nice night.” She loops one arm around me and the other around Magnolia, swiveling us toward the exit.

  “It was a real pleasure meetin’ y’all,” Kasey yells toward our retreating backs—salt in the wound and whatnot.

  24

  Drake

  “Any word from lover-girl?” Kasey asks, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

  I glance up from my cell to where she’s laid out on my couch in a pair of baggy-ass sweats and a hoodie. “Not gonna lie, I had my doubts about your plan, and while Azalea hasn’t outright admitted she’s jealous or that she still wants me, it’s been clear in those pretty green eyes of hers every time she’s seen us together.”

  “Oh my God, right? Her cheeks get all pink and her eyes get glassy. Not trying to be mean, but it’s pure gold watching her fight her feelings and the urge to tear you a new one for flaunting me around.” Kasey laughs, but I struggle to see the humor.

  For almost two weeks now, we’ve been playing cat and canary with Azalea, thanks to Myla Rose giving me the inside scoop. I hated putting her in that position—betraying her best friend’s trust—but now that Myles has Cash and Brody, she’s all about everyone getting their own happily ever after, and she’s hardcore Team Drazzy, so she begrudgingly agreed to help us once I told her our plan.

  That’s not to say she warmed right up to Kasey either.

  Hell. No.

  She downright interrogated her, like a dad with his daughter’s prom date. “What are your intentions with our friend?” she asked, dead-fucking-serious. It was awkward, but so worth it when she and Kasey shook hands and parted on good terms. Not sure if they’ll ever be friends, but I can hope, because on the real . . . Kasey’s a cool chick.

  “So, do you know her plans for this weekend
?” Kasey asks, kicking her feet up onto my coffee table.

  “Nah, no word yet. Simon might have everyone over. You think you can handle the entire group at once?”

  “That depends, Drake. Are they gonna all gang up on me like catty bitches?” She quirks her brow, emphasizing her point.

  “Well, you already know Myla Rose and Cash like you, now that they know what we’re really doing. And Magnolia’s so damn shy she’s about scared of her own shadow. Simon generally likes everyone. Seraphine and Azalea, though . . . I’m not so sure.”

  “Then count me in. Now, shut up so we can watch the game.”

  I lift my fist to knock on Kasey’s front door, but it swings open before I can make contact. “Do I look okay?” Kasey asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  Sliding my eyes down her body, I take in her thick navy sweater and torn-up jeans with a pair of bright red Chucks on her feet. “Yup, you look fine,” I tell her, causing her to punch me in the shoulder. “Ow, woman! What the hell?”

  “Were you this clueless with Azalea?” she demands to know, and I sputter. “Because lemme tell you, buddy, if you were—it was probably part of the problem.”

  “I . . . Um—”

  “Yeah, thought so. C’mon, let’s go. Pro tip. Try and act like you’re crazy attracted to me, or our plan won’t work.”

  “Kase, I got this,” I tell her as she hefts herself up and into my truck.

  “Ooh, look at us, nicknames already.”

  The drive to Simon’s passes in a flash, and my once-confident exterior begins to crumble the minute I spot Azalea’s little death-trap parked in the driveway. Sensing my distress, Kasey nudges my shoulder and asks, “You okay, dude?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. It’s just that every time we’ve ‘ran into’ her, it’s been in a public place. A controlled environment, where we all just sort of existed next to one another—lots of looking, very little talking. Here, there’ll be no barriers or walls or anything.”