by Elena Monroe
Outside, I took a moment to text Oliver one sentence: I think I just lost my best friend.
I heard a loud whistle, and my head jerked to the side. No one ever whistled at me, and it probably wasn’t for me to begin with. Something about ambiguous notions always drew my attention, like my name was easy to forget and someone might really need my attention.
When I looked up, I saw Oliver sitting against his car with a bulky scarf around his neck and his layers under his leather jacket; but even the weather was trying to warm him up. The snow was barely existent anymore. but small pieces of soiled snow still polluted the curbs. I felt a weight hold me down, just seeing him stand up and flick his cigarette butt to the side. There were tears in my eyes, as I stood there, with the distance between us, letting myself feel every terrible moment of this before I let his arms close me into him.
He smelled like comfort, exactly how he always did: smoke, combined with black coffee and cologne. I didn’t look up at him, afraid just seeing the sadness in his eyes would break me into pieces—the ones I was holding together.
He whispered into my hair, “Caden gave me the heads up. It’s probably for the best, babe.”
I pulled away enough to spit out, “For the best?”
He looked away from me, trying to avoid my glare. “Yes, Layla. She’s a shitty friend.”
That was the consensus about B; she wasn’t a good friend. She was selfish, arrogant, demanding, and a pain in the ass, but something inside me was dedicated to her. I knew even if we stopped talking today that, years later, she’d call me, I’d answer, drop everything, and be there for her.
But, I also knew… she wouldn’t ever be that for me.
Spring
It took months of smooth sailing and silence from her to let it soak in that she was no longer a part of my life. The universe must truly depend on balance, pushing me further into friendships with Maddison, Elizabeth, and Hunter. This time, there was no reason for me to feel guilty becoming close with other people when she was choosing distance. Sometimes I’d ask Hayley how B was, when I was missing her, in those quiet moments when we were less distracted.
The sun was bright, the air crisp, and finally it was above fifty-five degrees. The trees were in their prime—full and different shades of greens. This was exactly what I was waiting for when I had scrolled through Pinterest to see New England’s beauty.
I was still wearing layers. It wasn’t nearly warm enough for this Florida native, and the sinners didn’t stop their teasing. It became a running joke that I was always cold. I opted to not go home for spring break, convincing my mom it was a rite of passage for college students. We all went to Boston, tasting a life so close to becoming a reality, closer for the sinners who would graduate before me. Now summer was at our feet, and Elizabeth was plotting the end of the year bonfire for Caden’s Frat.
No one talked about summer or going home. This was their home, I was the one who needed to pay a dorm fee for summer or go back to Florida until classes resumed again. I avoided thinking about it, still vividly aware of how much Oliver and I fell apart last time.
I hated distance—the same distance I once craved. B being on the same campus and not in my life. Possibly going home for break, leaving over a thousand miles between Oliver and me.
I settled into myself, becoming comfortable with who I became. The campus became home and the sinners felt like family. I even stopped thinking of Florida altogether, except on truly cold days.
I ended up killing my interview to work at the coffee shop and started almost immediately. Oliver was encouraging, but he always offered me a loan in the hope I would turn the offer down. Having a full course load, Monday and Friday, plus working now stole hours we normally had together. I convinced myself that time apart, even a few hours, would condition us in case I couldn’t afford the dorm costs.
I only worked a few hours after my classes ended, around two, helping clean up and slowly learning to make coffee in a variety of ways. The machines were intimidating—all chrome and thousands of buttons, never mind expensive. I was content cleaning, helping customers, and taking out the trash. It was mindlessly relaxing—my own form of yoga.
Hunter never became close to the sinners. Oliver waved his authority wand, and being in the same room was suddenly allowed. Hunter lived at the coffee shop when he wasn’t in someone else’s bed. Half of me believed it was his way of pestering me, being in my space as much as he could. We only grew closer, but a piece of me was still waiting for the other shoe to drop and his plot to be revealed.
I was covering an earlier shift to save more money, quicker before summer finally arrived. I compromised staying for half my math lab most days and leaving early to head to the coffee shop two hours early. My half apron was almost always rolled up in my bag, just in case.
Today was one of those days. Maddison always took the best notes, and luckily, she always shared, even though I followed math better than most of the students in our class, having one of three A’s given out. I always snuck out of class as quietly as possible, but I let my professor know long before I even attempted to skip a class other than Oliver’s, whose buttons I could push. A strict professor giving out only three A’s was another story.
The coffee shop smelled like fresh donuts and bread as soon as I walked in. I was starving and couldn’t wait to charge myself for a donut before I punched in. I thought it would be a much harder adjustment to work again, but it felt natural. It was certainly much less demanding than two jobs and school. I picked a chocolate frosted donut from the small case we had of specialty donuts brought every morning from a shop in Boston. Sometimes if they needed help for deliveries I’d come in for four a.m. to help. I inhaled the donut leaving not even a sprinkle lost to my wax bag it came in. As I finished chewing the too big bite I took I tied the apron around my waist pulling it tight after wrapping the strings around me twice before tying it in a small bow. Kevin, my now boss and barista who loved to hate the Sinners, told me to hop on the register. The hardest thing I learned so far was all the shorthand to express the exact coffee someone was ordering.
CVF - Caffè Vanilla Frap
3 - Shots of Espresso
WM - Whole Milk
S2 - Skinny syrup, two pumps
Everything had a shorthand. I looked up and saw Hunter standing at the counter, smiling at me. I tried not to laugh with Kevin nearby when I asked him what he would like. He handed me a crisp twenty-dollar bill, the kind that feels fake and sticks to all the other bills. His hand not pulling back, his fingers ran along my hand before he let it drop to the counter. He was stealing a moment of touch and I let him. I knew how much I love Oliver couldn’t be burned out by one touch.
Every time he handed me money, I remember how we skipped class for him to personally deliver drugs to some asshole in Boston. I always thought he sold just pot, but now going to juvie makes more sense. His crimes were more severe. I pushed my hand forward giving him his change and he immediately dropped it into the cup labeled tips. I gave him a small smile in return for his $12 tip, too generous. He lingered resting his arms on the part of the counter that houses the syrups and different sugars leaning over the products to talk to me.
“You’re not going back home?”
His voice was flat, disguising if he was upset or just curious. I grabbed the black beat up tub meant for bussing tables, as I came around out from behind the coffee bar when Sheila took her spot at the register. Hunter followed me to my first table, still waiting for me to reply. I tugged the no longer white towel down from my shoulder and started clearing the mugs.
I didn’t bother looking up at him. “First of all, how do you know I might not go home?”
That was the thing about Hunter: He had a way of knowing everything. Even in high school, he knew everyone’s secrets. His smirk agreed.
“Elizabeth, who else? Your boyfriend has the rest on lock down.”
Elizabeth. She still drooled when he walked into the room, and now she was
sharing secrets that weren’t hers to share. As close as we got, I was still caution. I didn’t need to learn lessons twice except when it came to Hunter and Oliver. They were continuously playing on my easy forgiveness. My mind skipped over reason when he said her name instantly wondering how far their relationship went.
“What’s going on with you two?” My voice sounded full of judgment and I hated myself instantly for it. We had been walking the dangerous line since Oliver pushed away. Ever since he made up with his dad, we slipped right back into being the us I knew, but the slight jealousy I had over Elizabeth and Hunter never dissolved away. We both let our jealous monsters come out for brief moments, just like I did. He knew I wouldn’t condone more. I was proudly Oliver’s—his enemy.
He looked at me and his smirk grew into a full-blown cocky smile. “Nothing really. Just some fun.”
I rolled my eyes, moving on to the next table, and he followed me until Kevin yelled his name for the second time to get his coffee. I watched Hunter walk over to the counter, snipping at Kevin for putting his drink in a ceramic mug.
Kevin was unphased by any type of attitude, “You get a mug when you’re here as long as you are. Save the planet.” His voice was deadpan, and everything he said dripped in sarcasm that was hilarious even though he never laughed.
Hunter knew when to put on the charm, “Kevin… We’ve been over this. If I get a refill, I’ll let you put it in the same shitty to-go cup. Cool? I’m not giving her more dishes to do.”
Kevin caved, pouring his coffee in the to-go cup aggressively, just to show how annoyed he was. I laughed, because the cup was already dirty now; either way I would have to wash it. The gesture, along with a tip, was common now. No one else cared I worked here, but Hunter always made sure I knew he was helping to make it a better experience than it really was. Everyone else saw it as a hook up for coffee discounts.
My four-hour shift moved swiftly as I stocked the products, took out the trash, and washed the dishes, including the mug Hunter refused. My phone vibrated in my apron, as I untied it in front of the time clock. I balanced my phone between my arm and ribs, while I rolled up my apron the same way it was before I used it. I swiped my finger along my phone’s screen unlocking Oliver’s text: Outside.
He still hadn’t mastered texting. He was a man of few words. He preferred the written word, mainly his journal. I never even attempted to read it; that would only put my own at risk to be read. I waited for the ding of the clock to accept my punch out before I left out the back door. I walked to the front to see him smoking—a habit I couldn’t convince him to break. I would half try, because if I actually tried he’d probably end up smoking more. That was Oliver, whatever you said or wanted, he’d purposely do the opposite. I walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, leaning against him. His hand dropped to my waist, holding me against him. I was thankful for the hours separating us. It made these moments matter even more.
Time was flying by, but I was aware of summer only a month away, which meant another break mounting. We were in a different place now: somewhere past a crush but before the seriousness of commitment. Being in a different, undefined place didn’t mean I was any more comfortable with being apart for months at a time. I wondered if the world was finding balance in my life by taking her away after making up with my dad after nineteen years. No one could have this much good—especially not me.
It was Friday, which meant she could stay over at my place without me having to convince her. I was spending the week on campus at the Frat just to be close to her. Our free time was now limited to the weekends, due to her worthless job. She was being paid under minimum wage, pretty much their bitch, and Hunter practically moved into the coffee shop. He was a fly I could swat away but never kill. I resented him for being near her when I couldn’t.
I pushed my hands up from her waist to support her arms around my neck. She wanted to kiss me, but didn’t want to make the first move. I liked watching her squirm, making her wait. I could feel the warmth of her body against mine, as I watched her bite her bottom lip. I finally gave in and offered her some relief as our lips pushed against each other. My hand cupped her face, keeping us innocent in these kisses; otherwise, I’d fuck her right here in the parking lot. She nodded her head slowly, even though I didn’t say anything. She was starting to predict my responses, and less talking was okay with me.
We got in the car, and my brave new girl smirked at me in a way that meant trouble. I let her stir, like I didn’t notice.
“Hunter there again?”
This was the broken record of our relationship. It was something I couldn’t let go. I was waiting for whatever he was there for to happen. He was playing a slow burning game, and I was impatient. I knew she was annoyed every time I asked about it, and I didn’t blame her. It also led to some heated arguments.
“Of course. He was studying. Is that a problem?”
I could see her body shake off her previously excited state to make room for her pissed off expression. I didn’t bother to continue to talk. I didn’t even know if I was picking a fight because we hadn’t talked about summer yet or because my hatred of Hunter was still so blinding. This was common now. He was a wedge between us, and neither of us knew how to deal with it. I wanted to ask her to cut him out of her life, but she was a lot more like me than she wanted to admit. That would only make them better friends, just to spite me for telling her what to do.
We got back to my place after picking up Chinese. She got settled in, moving around effortlessly—charging her phone, putting her bag down, and picking out plates for us. Everything she did was making it easier to ask her to move in next year. I had never wanted to make plans much past a few hours with any other girl, but, with Layla, it was easy to envision a future of happiness. The air was heavy and we were still silently brooding, so I convinced myself I might as well make it worse now.
“Are you going home for the summer?”
She looked up at me, even more pissed off. Her eyebrows looked like a cartoon character’s, slanted in towards her nose. Her cheeks flushed a pink that resembled a sunburn on her porcelain skin. She avoided any hints I dropped, like asking if she needed boxes or if she bought a ticket home—all casual in tone so I wouldn’t spook her. But, now it was the end of April, and I no longer had the time to be casual.
Her hands slammed down on the countertop, still chiseled in her anger. “I don’t know, Oliver. If I can afford the dorm costs, I’ll stay on campus. I’m doing everything I can.”
I’ve never heard her so direct. She was always keeping her feelings close to the vest, only letting them out when they were too much to keep in. This was a girl who lived with a secret for a year. I know how comfortable she was keeping things to herself.
“I can help? I could give you a loan or whatever… or you can stay here for the summer.”
She exhaled, like my presence was enough to annoy her. I stayed stationary, making sure she knew I was serious. I was waiting for the next academic year to ask her to move in, but if I had to pick between losing her again for three months or asking earlier, then the latter won. I only got up to grab a water and invade her space.
“I don’t want you to help me. I can do it on my own. You have enough going on.”
I turned around, pressing myself into her back, pushing her hair off of her neck. “I have enough going on?”
She noticed I was still distant, even months after Hunter appeared, even after my dad held me against my will against his chest, and even after I had to tell my mom he wasn’t cheating. Something a son shouldn’t ever be a part of, yet I was.
She became still when my fingers touched her skin, and I leaned down to kiss her neck, as I said, “Stop being so stubborn…”
She turned around to face me, and her eyes were wet. “I’m not being stubborn, Oliver. Something is going on with you, and I can’t just take your help when you need the help.”
My arms trapped her, pressing against the cold countertop leaning
further into her, with our foreheads touching. She noticed more than I gave her credit for. I still wasn’t sober. I was slowly weaning my dosage down each month, but I wasn’t off of anything yet. I calculated it all, committed this time to beating the voices in the back of my mind, predicting the worst-case scenarios: losing people, strains, threats, even self-sabotage all played out in my mind before anything even happened. Those voices devoured the possibilities and always pushed me into my next strong sniff on the other end of the blow. I wasn’t going to falter this time. I was going to stick to kicking this bad habit for her—for the happiness she gave me.
We both knew she was right, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. It was too much of a risk if I let her that far in. My thumb wiped away the single tear that fell past her lashes. I whispered into her, foreheads still touching, “Just trust me, okay?”
She shook her head, and I knew she’d love me through anything, even the unknown. I lifted her up, placing her on the counter and not leaving any space between us. Our mouths finally aligned to kiss. She pulled her shirt off between us, and my hands squeezed her breasts through her purple bra.
She wasn’t just brave anymore. She wasn’t just wearing colors that she wouldn’t apologize for. She was confident. Her confidence was beautiful, just as beautiful as the shy version I first fell for.
