One Big Mistake: a friends to lovers rom-com

by Whitney Barbetti

  Normally, that kind of remark would cause me smile apologetically and offer up some kind of explanation. But I didn’t need to apologize for appearing tired and I didn’t need to explain myself to Roger. “Word of advice, Roger. Never tell someone they look tired unless they ask how they look.” I closed the register and locked it with my key.

  “Sorry,” he said after his shock wore off. I never spoke to him like that. I never cut him off when he was stalling me or interrupting my plans to leave on time—but that needed to change.

  “It’s late anyway,” I explained. “I’m looking forward to getting out of here right at the end of work.”

  He nodded, and I hoped he understood that meant I didn’t want to dilly dally in the parking lot, talking about whatever weird snack he’d purchased that week. Otherwise we’d have another awkward exchange involving me telling him I needed to go.

  Keane had told me I needed to be better about saying yes, but I also needed to be better at saying no. And just speaking up in general.

  We hadn’t talked for five days, since the night I’d all but shoved him out of the house. The look that had been on his face had been one that resonated with me still, full of frustration and hurt. I had thought putting off our talk meant putting off the inevitable hurt, but instead it prolonged it. On both ends.

  I missed him so much. It crossed my mind only every hour to send him a text. A random gif from one of our favorite shows, or from a movie we’d watched together. Or even a “How are you?” but even that felt impersonal, cold. He was my best friend; I shouldn’t have to ask how he was doing. I should already know.

  So many times, I’d considered showing up to the cabin and surprising him. But I’d backed out every time, not wanting to push him if he wasn’t ready to forgive me. He’d given me space when I’d asked, and since he hadn’t reached out to me, I knew he still needed that space himself.

  Plus, I still wasn’t the biggest fan of confrontation. And me going to him, initiating it, would feel just like that. But I knew I’d have to set that aside sooner or later. I couldn’t maintain this distance much longer. It was as if Keane held one end of the string that bound my heart and the further he got away from me, the more that string unraveled; the more vulnerable I felt.

  I looked at my phone for probably the fiftieth time that day. I had to be the one to extend the olive branch. We likely wouldn’t ever be together the way we had before, but I had to have him as my best friend. I wouldn’t lie about my feelings, but I wouldn’t let them end the greatest friendship of my life, either.

  I started to type out something when someone walked into the store.

  Hope filled my chest out of nowhere, but the person who walked through the door was just a stranger. I stared at him, wondering if my mind was playing a trick on me somehow. Giving me a smile, he moved toward the back of the store, to the ukuleles. He didn’t give me a second glance, but the sensation that still filled me up confused me.

  Where had that hope come from? It had slid into me unbidden but not necessarily unwelcome, filling in the dark spaces. I peered out the windows, but the parking lot was as black as the night sky above it, save for the glint of one vehicle parked near the back. Where Roger always parked his.

  We were ten minutes to close and with only one customer in the store, I deemed it safe to begin the closing preparations. After calling Roger to the register to take over, I took my things to the back office and started the prep.

  I set my phone down on the table, face up, glancing at it from time to time. The screen was dark, but still it kept my attention as I counted down the register for the day. If the current customer paid cash, I’d just have Roger bring me the amount for the purchase. I wanted to be out of the doors at exactly nine o’clock.

  I flipped my phone screen over, hating that it silently taunted me, and resumed my activities.

  It only took five minutes for me to flip the phone back over, but the screen was still black.

  I needed to text him, I knew. I had no reason to wait for a text from him, especially this late in the day. He was probably settling down after a full day of activity, his body sore. In a way, I envied his current project at the cabin. My days had been filled with closing shifts at the store and while my days were mundane, they weren’t exactly exhausting. I imagined that if Keane was going through any bit of the same emotional turmoil that I was, wearing his body to the point of physical exhaustion probably carried him into sleep each night. I laid in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling until the light from the late spring dawn filled my room.

  Roger called the office line to let me know the customer had paid with a check and that he’d start locking the door and begin the front-end closing preparations. His no-nonsense delivery was appreciated, and I couldn’t help myself, I felt bad for my curt remark to him earlier.

  “Thanks, Roger,” I said, with feeling. As I hung up the phone, the screen on my phone flashed. A text from my aunt, asking how the evening shift had gone.

  She must have sensed my overwhelm from the three weeks she was gone, because she checked in on me every night that I closed the store.

  Shoving the disappointment I felt in not having seen Keane’s name, I replied letting her know the evening’s take and that we were getting ready to close up.

  She replied with a heart emoji and I went back to the rest of my text messages, going down the list of them in order of most recent text: Aunt Isabel, Hollis, Violet, Rose, Roger, Jade. A strange panic flitted through me in not seeing Keane’s name on the first screen of my texts and I quickly scrolled down until his name appeared.

  The thumping in my heart slowed, but only slightly. I couldn’t keep doing this. I needed to grow the hell up and text him first.

  I opened up our text thread and after only a moment’s hesitation, I typed the only two words I could say over text. The two words he’d sent me weeks prior.

  Me: I’m sorry.

  My finger hovered over the send button. It was not exactly the grand declaration of regret I’d intended, but what I wanted to say to Keane couldn’t be said over text.

  I hit send and flipped my phone over, bringing the bank deposit bag and paperwork to the front.

  I didn’t know what I’d do if he replied. I didn’t know what I’d do if he didn’t.

  I added the check to the stack of cash and checks and put it all in the bag.

  All the while, my heart thrummed nervously. I’d left my phone in the back office on purpose. One, to avoid the temptation to stare at it until a reply came through—if it did. And two, to distance myself from the text, to keep myself from sending something else in haste, and to learn how to breathe again without worrying about how it would be received. But even as I added the final check to the deposit slip, and even as I locked the register and the safe, my mind was thinking about that text.

  My stomach was full of knots, my chest was burning, and my head was full of all the things I wished I’d said other than those two oversimplified words.

  “You ready?” Roger asked, one hand at the door as he looked at me.

  “Let me just grab my things from the back office.”

  The walk back to the office was a mile long, or at least that was how it felt. The thunderous roar of my pulse in my ears made it hard to hear anything else. This was why I avoided confrontation—because, shamefully, the inevitable apology after a confrontation scared me to my bones. It wasn’t the confrontation itself; it was the unknown in the after.

  I entered the office, picked up my purse and cleaned up the desk and at the very last second, I picked up my phone. But I didn’t turn it over to look at it just yet.

  I was afraid of his response. I was afraid there wouldn’t be a response. Either way, I was scared shitless.

  Giving Roger a smile I didn’t quite feel, I nodded to him to signal for him to shut off all the nights, cloaking us in the same darkness that matched the outside. The only lights that now illuminated the store were the emergency ones in the very back, an
d the blinking light of the alarm system above the door. I watched it, counted three red blinks, before I looked down and turned over my phone.

  He’d replied. And though his response was as brief as mine, it hit me square in the chest.

  Keane: Me too.

  I nearly doubled over from the relief that poured through me as I stared at those five letters. It was a miracle I could breathe around the cool rush of relief that filled me.

  Barely registering Roger’s exit out of the store, I stayed inside a moment longer, just looking at those two words. Nothing accompanied them, but the fact that this conversation echoed the one we’d had just a few weeks ago gave me a certain kind of hope.

  The screen changed, and I saw the familiar dots, telling me that he was typing something. My pulse went back up at a dizzying rate—literally—and I didn’t think I had it in me to keep this up. Surely, I’d end up with extremely high blood pressure. My phone bleeped a little noise, but I’d already seen Keane’s message come through.

  Keane: Are you going to come out?

  Pulse still hammering away, I lifted my head and peered out the glass doors. With the lights in the store off, it was easier to see the parking lot.

  I’d been wrong earlier, about where Roger had parked. He’d parked along the side of the building. The vehicle in the back, that I’d only caught a glimpse of before, was Keane’s. And he was standing just outside of it, leaning against his truck, his face barely illuminated by the glow of his phone.

  My stomach was hollow, save for the weird flutters taking up space inside of it. I braced my hand on the cool metal of the door handle as I looked out at him. He was here. He’d been here, before I’d even sent the text message. What did that mean?

  He lifted his head, looking right at me, and my throat went dry. No point in putting it off. I exited the building and turned to him. For one long, quiet moment we just observed each other until I tore my gaze away to lock the door of the building.

  I heard the distinct rattle of Roger’s engine as he drove up to the curb. “I’m guessing he’ll follow you to the bank?”

  The bank? It took a minute for me to remember what I was supposed to be doing. I hadn’t even noticed the weight of the money bag under my arm. I only nodded at Roger, but the truth was I didn’t know what would happen with Keane.

  “See you tomorrow night,” Roger said, and I knew I made some noise of agreement, but my gaze had traveled to collide with Keane’s, and he was all I could see, all I could really think about.

  Roger’s car drove off, the clunky engine growing quieter and quieter until there was no noise save for some traffic just beyond the parking lot.

  With bravery I didn’t know I possessed, I took one step, and then another, and then another, toward Keane. Unhurried, but steady steps. As I approached, he just stared at my face, probably trying to get a good read on me like he usually could.

  But how could he read my emotions when I wasn’t even sure of them myself?

  I stopped about ten feet away from him. The distance between us felt safe somehow. The darkness could provide me cover from revealing everything on my face.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “How are you?” Keane replied.

  Oh, how stupid I was to think that if I could just be his friend again it would be enough. He only needed to say three words and my heart leaped like it didn’t belong to me anymore; it belonged to him, and it was eager to get back to him.

  “Do you want the short answer or the long one?”

  “I don’t care.” He stepped forward so that he wasn’t leaning on his truck anymore, but he stayed nine feet away from me. “I just want the one that’s true.”

  “I…” I took in a deep breath. “I’m sad.” It was a weak word for how I felt, but it was all I could manage.

  “Good.”

  It almost didn’t register, what he said. “Good?”

  “Yeah,” he said. He kicked at a misplaced pebble on the ground, sending it bouncing across the deserted parking lot. “The last, what, almost a week? Has fucking sucked for me. If it was any less miserable for you, I’d be really gutted.”

  “‘Fucking sucked,’” I repeated. “That’s accurate.”

  “What can I say, I’m practically Shakespeare. With more colorful language, maybe.” I saw the first hint of a smile, but it fell from his lips before I could enjoy it fully.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Shakespeare may not have used swear words, but he did have a creative way of insulting people. Like, ‘thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.’”

  “Ah.” Keane rocked back on his heels. “That’s a better way of saying someone’s an idiot. I’ll have to pass it along to Tori. She’s a fan of clever language. And calling me an idiot.”

  “Yes, she is.” For the first time in I couldn’t remember how long, I didn’t feel any bit of jealousy in talking about her. After that night at the cabin, I was absolutely content in believing that they were just friends, as Keane had said. After Tori’s admittance of short-term memory when it came to men, and knowing Keane, I understood why they were better off friends anyway. But that didn’t mean I wanted to talk about Tori when I was finally talking to Keane for the first time all week.

  “Navy,” he said, and my heart nearly caved in hearing my name from him for the first time in what felt like forever. “I’ve missed you.”

  Okay, my heart fully caved in at that. It was hard to resist letting my hand rest there on my chest, to make sure it hadn’t inflicted too much damage. “I’ve missed you too,” I said. “So, so much.”

  “I need you to tell me something,” he began. “I know we talked about things a bit, but there’s something I’ve always wondered, from high school.” As if he was suddenly aware of where we were, he shook his head. “Let’s go somewhere else. You’ve got to deposit that anyway,” he said, pointing toward the long-forgotten money bag under my arm, tucked against my side.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  He thought for a moment as he looked at me. “Are you hungry?”

  As if in response, my stomach growled. “Yes.”

  “Let’s get something to eat. You up for that?”

  I didn’t think I could wait a second longer to hear whatever it was he’d wanted to ask, but I agreed anyway.

  “Want to take my truck? We can come back for your car.”

  “Okay.”

  He turned and opened the passenger door, but I didn’t immediately move to climb in. There was still some distance between us, but once we were in that truck we’d be closer than we had been in two weeks.

  But it was a better option than both of us in my much smaller car, so I acquiesced and climbed in—once he was on the other side of the truck.

  We drove to the bank, both of us silent. The only sound was the music that played in through the radio; some slow pop number that lamented about lost love.

  I took the opportunity to view Keane’s profile. His curls were messy but relatively short ringlets around his head. His eyes were tired, and his scruff appeared as if he’d ignored it for a week. In short, he looked as haggard as I felt. But unlike me, he wore it well—in a sort of devastatingly handsome way. But then again, I always thought he was too handsome for his own good.

  When we arrived at the bank, I passed the deposit envelope to Keane without touching him and watched as he put it in the night drop. As he drove off and turned back onto the main road, he didn’t ask me what I wanted to eat. It was like he already knew, which is why we ended up picking up burgers and fries and chocolate milkshakes.

  He continued to drive, ignoring the food for the moment, until we pulled into the entrance to the drive-in. Judging by the start time on the marquee, we were an hour late into the first showing of the night, but that didn’t seem to matter to Keane. He handed money over to the clerk and then turned his parking lights on as we drove into the parking lot. I didn’t even know what the movie was. That wasn’t important.

  Keane backed int
o a parking space and turned his radio to the frequency the drive-in listed for the sound to the movie.

  “We’ve grown up from stealing free seats, haven’t we?” he asked when we remained silent, in the cab.

  I nodded. We’d definitely grown up, in many ways.

  He grabbed the food bags, and I grabbed the drinks and followed him toward the back of the truck

  “I don’t have the air mattress set up,” he said. “It might be too noisy.”

  Even though we’d parked near the back of the lot, away from the other cars and trucks, I knew that filling up the air mattress wouldn’t be a quiet affair. “You have blankets though, right?”

  “Yep.” He set the food down and went to the backseat of the truck, tossing the blankets and pillows into the bed of the truck before rejoining me at the back. He climbed up into the bed first, took the drinks from my hands and set them down, and then crouched near the tailgate, so we were eye to eye, closer than we had been inside of the truck. Wordlessly, he reached his hand toward me, to help me up into the truck and after only a moment I placed mine in his, feeling his warmth immediately. His fingers closed around mine and he squeezed, and then after three full heartbeats, he braced himself to pull me upwards.

  He waited another few heartbeats before he let go of my hand and we settled ourselves among the blankets and pillows before digging into the bags of food. He handed me my burger and my fries. I popped the lid on the milkshake and placed it between us. Like the times before, we’d used one milkshake for dipping and the other for drinking.

  It had been so long since we’d last done this; laid in the back of his trusty pickup with our favorite fast food. He opened the window slide above our heads that allowed the sound from the speakers to reach us better. But I had a feeling we wouldn’t pay a ton of attention to the movie anyway.

  I looked at him for a long moment, saw the sadness in his eyes that echoed my own. I couldn’t be afraid to talk to Keane. Despite what had happened, he was still my best friend. And I knew in his hands, my heart could land softly.