by Nicole Dykes
Everything seems less bright and shiny now. Sometimes I worry we're just drifting through the wreckage of this life we were left with.
I climb out of the shower, wiping the fogged mirror in the one and only bathroom in the house, staring at the makeup and various perfumes spread about on the granite countertop. Living with a chick you aren’t fucking is probably strange, but it works for us.
She definitely isn’t a stranger. Ashlyn has been a large part of my life. I mean hell, we go back to grade school. And I may give her a hard time, but I can’t imagine my life if she would have gone to college in California and left me to my own miserable existence.
Instead, she stayed, and we formed our own kind of normal.
I comb my hair and brush away the smell of alcohol with minty toothpaste, staring again at the messy bathroom counter. It would probably be better if one of us was a clean freak, but instead we’re both on the slob side. Thankfully, because of the boring fucking job I landed, I can afford a weekly cleaning service.
I wrap the white towel around my waist and walk down the hall to my bedroom, bumping into Ashlyn, who looks irritated with one hand on her hip. Her eyes slide over my naked torso, but I know it has no effect on her whatsoever. She doesn’t see me like that and never really has. I guess that makes living together easier. Who the fuck needs complicated? “Garrett, they’ll be here any minute.”
“Chill. I just have to put some clothes on, and I’m good to go.”
She growls, and I smile at the “Let it Be” saying on her shirt. Ashlyn isn’t a girly girl by any means. When we’re home, she’s usually sporting jeans and a tank or tee with a saying on it. But she looks anything but spontaneous and calm today. Her shirt tells a very different story than her face, and I know she’s on edge. We both fucking are, and it makes me almost hate our annual tradition of all four of us getting together to reminisce and catch up.
All I want to do is climb into a black hole and drink myself into oblivion.
The doorbell rings, and Ash’s eyes say a quick “I told you so” before she darts to the front door, and I head to my bedroom to pull on a tee and jeans, shooting her my own “told ya so” look when I reach the door as she lets them inside.
I get that she doesn’t want us to seem like a total trainwreck around our oldest friends, but she should know by now I bounce back really fucking fast when I have to.
Reed walks in, and we bump fists as Erin and Ash hug before we switch and I give Erin a quick hug. Their smiles are bright, and I know my friends are happy.
They went to college at the same state school we did. Married right after graduation with me and Ash right by their sides. Not that they were unaffected by the wreck that changed our lives, but they embraced the fact that they lived through it.
I stare at them with a small amount jealousy because I’m not sure Ashlyn and I did.
Somedays it feels like we both died on the side of that country road along with Paige. I fight the bile raising in my throat at the mere thought of her name in my head.
Paige Robinson was by far the best thing that ever happened to me. And because I decided to get too fucking shitfaced to drive that night, she’s gone and I’m still fucking here, floating through life.
We never made sense, Paige and me. But somehow, we fucking worked. I never saw her more than a friend, my highly organized, way too goody-two-shoes friend. And I definitely never thought she’d seen me as anything other than her asshole, cocky friend, Garrett. But then at the freshman dance, she came out of nowhere and kissed me.
I never saw it coming. I had no idea she saw me that way, but then everything clicked into place. She balanced out my assholeness with her sweetness. She kept me on track with school, and I made sure she had fun every chance she got.
Ashlyn and Erin go to the kitchen to reheat the meal Erin prepared, and Reed and I go out the patio door to the backyard. Ashlyn loves it out here. After we graduated from college and spent a year in a hellish, loft apartment in downtown Kansas City, we saved every single penny and decided to look for a house to buy. Her only requirement was that she have a nice patio area.
I honestly didn’t give a fuck, but the place we found had a large yard and even an underground pool, although it was rundown as all hell. At the time, it was all we could afford. A thirty thousand dollar loan in our names was all it took to get us in our very own shithole. We’ve fixed it up a lot over the last eight years. That first year, knowing it was important to Ash, I went to the nearest home improvement place each week, buying what I could and the backyard was transformed into her own oasis.
With Reed’s help, we cleaned the pool and got it back into working order. We laid smooth rocks around it and added a fire pit, a nice patio set, some comfy chairs, and voila, her very own sanctuary.
And I suppose I like it out here too. It’s definitely where we spend most of our time, especially in summer.
“So how’s it going at the firm, man?”
Reed slicks back his light, reddish-blond hair, undoing the top button of his suit, letting himself breathe. I’m sure he came right from work. I still can’t believe my best friend is a lawyer, but he worked his ass off to get where he is, and he’s happy.
“Good. Busy.” He grins as he leans back in one of the cushioned chairs at the patio table. “How’s work going for you?”
I groan internally but put a smile on my face. Never in a million years did I see myself working nine-to-five in a drab office, shouting orders and looking at charts all day. But here we are. “Fine.” He nods, studying me, knowing me well enough not to prod, and I take the heat off myself. “What about Erin?”
It’s been months since we’ve gotten together, which these days isn’t that unusual. “She’s doing fucking great.” His smile shows me he has nothing to hide. “Opened her own studio downtown and has a show next week.”
“The artist and the lawyer.” I grin as the girls walk out, several bowls in hand as we stand and help them set the table.
We make our plates, filled with unbelievably delicious food Erin made. Seriously the woman should be a chef, but she’s a kickass artist. “Okay, so enough bullshit small talk.” And blunt as fuck too.
“What?” Ash looks fairly surprised but shouldn’t be. Erin is fairly quiet, but she’s also the first one to call you out on your shit.
Reed smiles as he tears apart one of the flakey, buttery biscuits that makes my stomach growl.
“How are you guys really doing? This day sucks for all of us, every single year, it sucks. So, how are you guys doing?”
Erin’s dark eyes meet mine, her face serious, and I know a bullshit passive-aggressive remark won’t cut it. Then Erin zones in on Ash, who has tears welling up in her eyes, and I feel the need to take the pressure off her.
“Shitty. It’s fucking shitty. But we always get through it, right?”
Erin’s gaze meets mine. “Do we?”
“Well, you and Reed are doing great from what I gather.” It sounds more bitter than I mean it to. I am seriously happy that they’re doing well.
Reed nods. “We are, but every day is a struggle, and we both know it’s even worse for you guys. It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, and we’ve known you long enough to see through your bullshit.” He leans over. “You reek of booze.”
My eyes meet Ashlyn’s, whose back is straight, and I can see just how on edge she is. “Yeah well, like I said, today is shitty. I hate the fucking anniversary. And I hate the check-in.” I lock on Reed, and he knows instinctively it’s time to back off.
He raises his hands in the air. “Alright, just know, if you guys ever need anything, we’re here. We share the same fucking zip code, and if you’re drowning, we’re drowning.”
I nod my head, taking a sip of the water on the table. “Got it. We jump, you jump.”
Ash rolls her eyes at my Titanic reference and then laughs. It’s a genuine laugh, beautiful and light. “Oh my God, how many times did she make us watch that fucking
movie?”
My lips curve into a sudden smile, thinking of the summer Paige was obsessed with Leonard DiCaprio and forced us to watch every single one of his movies over and over again. “Too many to count.”
Reed, who was subject to the same torture, raises his arms out to the side, shouting, “I’m the king of the world!”, before we burst into laughter like we haven’t since we were teenagers.
Since that night.
And it feels good. Until it doesn’t. When the laughter fades and Erin is wiping the tears from her eyes and Ash is holding her stomach from the uproarious laughter. We all stop.
Our eyes meeting each other’s in silent remembrance because it always goes back to Paige.
After dinner, Erin and Reed go back home, and I walk back out to the patio where Ash is curled up on the double-padded bench by the firepit that isn’t currently on.
I take a seat next to her, and we stare out into nothing together.
“You think they’ll have kids soon?”
I turn and face Ashlyn, whose dark brown hair is starting to fall out of the band holding it up, dark strands falling down her bare neck. “Yeah, that’s the next step, right? At least for people who want kids.”
She nods, still not looking at me but up at the stars in our backyard. “Yeah. I suppose so. I’m glad they’re happy. And they do seem really incredibly happy, don’t they?” Her eyes sparkle in the moonlight as she looks up.
“Yeah.” I barely choke out the words as I twist the top of another beer and take a swig. I stand and kiss the top of her head. “I’m going to bed.”
She nods her head, still not looking at me. Part of me is grateful she doesn’t because I know she has tears in her beautiful eyes, and I’m not equipped to handle it.
Fuck this day. Fuck all the days without Paige Robinson.
Monday mornings, I really fucking hate you.
I trudge down the hallway to the kitchen to grab my one saving grace in the morning . . . coffee.
This weekend was rough. I love Erin, but sometimes her bluntness is too much. Okay, too much for me, a person who loves to live in a numb state of denial. But the laughter after the moment of real talk? That was the killer.
Not that I haven’t laughed since Paige died. Life does, in a sense, continue after a death. Still laughing that hard, where I couldn’t catch my breath, with those three people and Paige not there will her dorky, sweet, beautiful laugh? The pain I felt afterward was enough to make me worry about vomiting right there at the table.
Guilt still sits in the pit of my stomach as I walk into the kitchen. My shoulders slump instantly when I see a bleached blond perched at the kitchen isle. Her asscheeks, barely covered by Garrett’s tee, are squished against the black leather of the bar stool.
Fuck me. Garrett!
I silently shout to the heavens above. Alcohol isn’t the only vice he’s used to cope. No, Garrett is the epitome of manwhore.
He waited those years in high school for Paige. But after she died, he went fucking wild, like he was searching for anything to make him feel even a little bit better. But the sting of the pain remaining afterward has left him bitter.
And not to slut-shame, God knows I’m no saint. I’ve definitely tried to find ways to ease the pain of losing my best friend. But I’m getting really tired of dealing with these women the next morning when they don’t get the hint that Garrett is not, in fact, their Prince Charming.
I sigh and walk into the kitchen, my bare feet feeling the cool tile as I pull the elastic holding up last night’s ponytail a little tighter and clear my throat.
The girl jumps at the sound of my feminine voice, no doubt only expecting Garrett to be here because he never explains our situation. That would require more talking than, “you wanna get out of here?”
And because Garrett is six foot two, tan skin, sharp jawline, dimples, and sparkling eyes, not to mention chiseled, sprinkled with tattoos, and such annoyingly perfect, sexy goodness on the outside, he has absolutely no problem seducing them with that one line.
“Oh shit.” The girl nearly drops her phone as she tries to tug down the t-shirt. “I’m so fucking sorry. He said he was single.” She puts a finger to her lips, and I can actually see her thinking. “Well, okay, maybe he didn’t say that, but I swear I didn’t know.”
I fight the laugh at the whole ridiculous show. This poor, dumb girl. “It’s cool. I’m not his girlfriend. We’re just friends.”
I see her take a relaxing breath and then flop back down before the usual curiosity comes bubbling up. I prepare for the barrage of questions about to head my way by popping a K-Cup into the coffee machine and turning it on.
“So, you guys are just friends?”
“Yup.”
No. I’m not dating anyone else. “So, you have a boyfriend? Maybe deployed or something?”
She stares at me like I’m a total freak, and hey, I get it. “No. I’m single.”
Saying that never gets old. I open the fridge and grab creamer, closing it with my hip. And nope, I’m not gay. “So, you’re into girls? Because that’s totally cool. My roommate in college had a girlfriend, and she was awesome.”
Wow, this one is a talker. I shake my head and pour my favorite mocha creamer into my cup. “Nope. Unfortunately, I like dick.”
Poor thing. This is really a conundrum for her. It is for most people. “So, you guys are single, both heterosexual, and hot as hell, but you don’t fuck?”
I sigh and put the creamer up, closing the fridge again, grabbing my cup and leaning back up against the counter. I’m obviously not going into too much detail with this complete stranger. “We’re friends who have known each other forever. It’s just not sexual.”
“Wow.”
I take a sip and smile to myself. “I know. It’s messed up, but I promise it’s possible for men and women to have no sexual feelings and just be friends.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I’ve never been able to pull that off. And I’ve never even lived under the same roof with a man.”
Yes, even I have to admit, sometimes it’s challenging. We share a fucking bathroom for Christ’s sake. I mean, just a couple of days ago, I had to stop myself from ogling my best friend while he was wearing nothing but a tiny, white towel that left nothing to the imagination. And yeah, the asshole is unbelievably hot, especially shirtless with droplets of water cascading down the ridges of his taut abs and the veins in his sculpted biceps pulled tight with tension . . .
Stop.
I mentally remind myself that’s Garrett and not some faceless dude I’m drooling over.
So yeah, there’s an attraction there. But the thing is, Garrett has always and will always belong to Paige. That’s something I’ve known for a long time. So anytime a crazy thought pops up in my sex-starved brain, I remind myself of just that.
Garrett Burke is taken.
And we both know each other way too well and have too much baggage. Again, I’m not going to tell her any of that.
Luckily right then, Garrett walks in, suit and tie, showered and shaved. And yes, the asshole looks damn good in a suit, but it’s so un-him that I cringe every single time I see him dressed like this.
I push off the counter and focus on Garrett, a big smile on my face and an evil plan forming in my head, one too good to resist. “Well, good mornin’, sunshine! I was just catching up with Denise. She’s pretty awesome.” The girl looks reasonably confused but doesn’t say anything yet.
I emphasize “Denise” and hope he takes the bait. Thinking I’m just being a pal and helping him with his guest’s name, he strolls in, confidence coming off him in waves as he grabs his coffee cup. “Oh yeah, good.” He turns to her. “Morning, Denise. Wasn’t sure you would still be here.”
She pops up, her bottom lip pushed out and anger in her blue eyes. “My name is Amber, asshole.”
I can’t hold back the laugh as Garrett turns back to me, his head cocked to the side, giving me a sinister “I’ll get you back for tha
t later” look.
Bring it, dickhead. He deserved that after years of torture.
“Sorry.” He offers, but in typical Garrett fashion, it’s clear he doesn’t mean it.
The girl flips her hair over her shoulder. “You know what? Don’t call me, asshole. Your fucking loss.”
She goes back to his room, changes into her ridiculously flashy, club dress, and leaves with a loud slam of the front door.
“Wow, Ash. I didn’t know you had that in ya. I mean, you know that hurt her more than me, right?”
I take another drink of much needed coffee. “Oh, you can sink your dick in her without knowing her name, and I’m the bad guy? Please.”
He grins, taking a drink, his long legs crossed at the ankle as he leans back against the counter. “I knew her name last night. I just forgot it.” He looks over at the clock on the stove. “Shit. I gotta go.”
“It’s really early.”
He straightens his tie. “Yeah, well God forbid any of them function without me, and they had an emergency with a presentation for a pretty big client this afternoon.”
He hates his job. With a passion. I know he hates that suit and tie. I work a boring office job, but thankfully it’s fairly casual, and I can wear jeans with a decent shirt.
“You want to talk about it?”
His shoulders slouch forward. “About what, Ash? How much I hate my fucking job?”
“Yes.”
“Nope.”
I take a seat on the other bar stool. “Maybe it’s not too late for us.”
His eyes search mine for a moment. “Too late for what?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Going back to school for what we actually want to do. I mean we’re only twenty-six. That’s not too late.”
He smiles, but it’s not cruel. “That’s not part of our reality.”
“It’s not like we’ve ever lived in reality before.”
He places a hand on my shoulder as if he actually gets where I’m coming from, and he’s not mocking me. “We’re adults now. We made our choices.” He forces a smile. “Besides, the money’s really fucking good. It pays for this kickass house. My car is badass. Yours is fine, although a little on the girly side. We can go hang out at clubs whenever we feel like it, and we order out for dinner several times a week because we are both worthless in the kitchen. We have it made, Ash.”