Just Friends

by Monica Murphy

  Sounds familiar, not that Dustin was my boyfriend.

  “Aren’t you dating Dustin Henry?”

  Is she in my head or what? I scoff. “No, we’re just friends.”

  “Just friends. Cheaters love to use that term.” Amanda’s eyes go wide. “Not that I’m calling you a cheater. I’d never say that about you. I don’t even know you that well, but—you know what I mean.”

  “I do. Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were calling me a cheater.” I’m definitely not the cheater. I may’ve kept secrets from both Em and Dustin, but I definitely didn’t cheat on them. They’re the ones who were messing around behind my back.

  “You’re on the yearbook staff, right?” Amanda asks, clearly trying to change the subject. So I let her.

  “Yeah, I am.” It’s my one thing. The only thing I have that doesn’t involve Em or Dustin. “Why do you ask? And please don’t ask me to take photos out or insert photos of you. That’s out of my control.” Somewhat.

  She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t care about that stuff. I was just wondering. I need something new to focus on. Now that I’m not in bad my counselor keeps telling me I need to find other extracurricular activities so I look good on my college applications.”

  “We’d love to have you.” So many people sign up for yearbook thinking it’s an easy class. But it’s also hard work, so we tend to lose people too.

  “Olivia Hudson, what are you doing all the way over here?”

  Dread slithers down my spine. I know that voice. Was just riding in his car this morning. Now here he is standing in front of Amanda and me, that typical self-assured smile curling his perfectly kissable lips, his hands on his hips as he stares down at the both of us. “Hey Ryan,” I say stiffly.

  “Who’s your friend?”

  His question makes Amanda sit up straighter. “Amanda Winters, meet Ryan…” I am having a total blank moment. I hear his full name every day in government when our teacher takes attendance and now I can’t remember it.

  Not that he offers it up either. “Nice to meet you.” He smiles down at Amanda, one of those dazzlers that’s probably making her melt inside. Poor Amanda. She has no idea what or who she’s dealing with. At least I can prepare myself to withstand the potency. Sort of. “You two look lonely.”

  “We’re fine,” I say quickly before Amanda can say anything. Not that she’s speaking. I think she’s become mute in Ryan’s presence. “Don’t worry about us.”

  “Come sit at our table.” He flicks his head in the direction of his precious centerpiece table.

  “Thanks, but lunch is almost over.” I smile, wishing he’d leave.

  He frowns, looking like he’s going nowhere, damn him. “Come on, Livvy. What do I have to do? Beg?”

  I laugh. “Please. You’re not the type to beg.”’

  “Watch me.” Without warning, he falls to his knees and I scoot my legs up, my bent knees pressing against my chest, my mouth falling open when he curls his hands together like he’s about to pray. “Please, please, please Livvy. Come sit with me for the rest of lunch. And bring your hot friend.”

  The smile on Amanda’s face is so wide I bet it hurts.

  No way can I allow myself to be swayed by his cuteness. Life is so not fair. “Won’t the queen bees be pissed if we sit with you?” I nod toward the table.

  Every one of the girls sitting at his table is watching us, their disgust obvious. I’m sure they’re all secretly vying to be the first to sink their claws into Ryan and snatch him up as their boyfriend.

  Ryan glances over his shoulder for all of about two seconds before he returns his attention to me. “I don’t give a shit if they’re pissed or not. Come on, Livvy. I’m feeling like an asshole right now.”

  “You are an asshole, didn’t you know?” I laugh when he clutches his heart like a lovesick cartoon character. He is so full of crap.

  But he’s also cute. And kind of funny. I like funny. I usually find it irresistible, so if he proves to have a good sense of humor, I’m probably done for.

  “Then do this asshole a favor and come sit with me. And you too, Amanda. Come on.” He stands, offering his hand to Amanda, and she takes it, popping up to her feet. She sends me a look, one that says, don’t be stupid, let’s do this!

  Reluctantly, I put my hand in Ryan’s and he tugs me to his feet, pulling me in close so he can whisper in my ear, “Knew I could convince you.”

  I raise a brow. “You’re that confident.”

  “With you? Always.” He steps closer, his body brushing against mine and making a million tingles scatter all over my skin. “I bet I could convince you to do just about anything I want you to.”

  That sounds like a promise—or a threat. “Don’t be too sure,” I say, my voice shaky. I can feel Amanda’s gaze on us and I’m sure she’s curious to know what he’s saying.

  It’s like I can feel everyone’s eyes on us. They’re probably all wondering what Ryan wants with me. He’s out of my league. I know it. He probably knows it too.

  But he doesn’t really seem to give a shit.

  “By the time I’m finished with you, I’ll have you eating out of my hand,” he says, his words oozing with confidence.

  And for some reason, his words conjure up all sorts of dirty thoughts. Maybe it’s the way he said eating and hand. Out of his mouth, he makes the words downright wicked.

  “Come on.” He turns so he’s between Amanda and me, and he slings his arms over our shoulders, dragging us both into his body. He’s solid and warm, muscular and tall. I fit perfectly just beneath his arm, but so does Amanda. “You know those bitches I’m sitting with, right?”

  I laugh as he leads us toward the table and so does Amanda, though she sounds a little nervous. “Not really,” I confess, and Amanda mumbles her agreement. We’re not privileged enough to sit with the popular girls.

  “Well, let’s bring you into the fold. Girls, meet Livvy and Amanda,” Ryan says as we all three stop at the head of the table.

  They all mutter hello, their gazes narrowed as they blatantly scan both of us. Probably sizing up the competition, not that I consider myself real competition with them. I’m just…a girl. Who happens to be on the yearbook staff and gets decent grades and is desperate to get out of this hellhole otherwise known as my hometown.

  The guys are checking us out too, with interest in their eyes, the words fresh meat most likely floating in their brains as they study us. Amanda’s not a bad looking girl. She has shiny brown hair that’s cut bluntly just past her shoulders and expressive brown eyes. Her nose is a little big, but she’s tall and willowy, though she doesn’t have much in the boob department.

  “Sit down,” one of the guys offers, nudging the boy next to him to get him to move over and make room. “Join us.”

  I’m about to sit next to Amanda when Ryan snags my hand, forcing me to sit in between him and stupid Tuttle. I look at him, the determined line of his jaw, his icy blue eyes staring right at me. Hardly anyone calls him Jordan. They all just call him Tuttle, even the teachers.

  “This is Livvy,” Ryan leans over to tell him, his shoulder brushing against my chest as he does so.

  The smirk he sends in my direction when he shifts away tells me he did that on purpose.

  “I know Olivia,” Tuttle says, his voice full of irritation. “We’ve gone to school together forever.”

  “We played a married couple in the sixth grade play,” I remind him. One of my more mortifying moments that I don’t like to remember. Back in sixth grade, the last person any girl wanted to be married to was Jordan Tuttle. He’d gone through an awkward stage back then, with a mouth full of braces, pimples already dotting his face and a weird, gangly body that seemed to grow extra fast. I think he was close to six feet tall by the beginning of seventh grade.

  He’d filled out just fine and was now a freaking superstar. Everyone wanted a piece of Jordan Tuttle.

  “Didn’t we have to kiss at one point? In the script?” Jordan
asks, his eyebrows rising.

  I shake my head. “Um, no. We were only twelve. I’m sure you would’ve rather spit on me than kiss me.” At the time Tuttle hadn’t seemed interested in any girls, least of all me.

  Ryan laughs. “Missed opportunity, bro.”

  “I was trying to make you jealous, asshole,” Tuttle says, leaning over so now his shoulder was pressing directly against my boobs. I am surrounded by two large, muscular boys, and it’s like I’m the tasty center of a football-playing sandwich. “Considering she’s all you’ve been talking about the last few days.”

  My head swivels to Ryan, shock coursing through me. “No way.”

  “Way,” Ryan says, reaching out to dab the tip of my nose with his index finger. “I’m telling you, Livvy, I’m going to make this happen.”

  I lower my voice. “Really? So what’s going on with you and Em?”

  He waves a hand, seemingly dismissing her. “She’s old news. I hate what she’s done to you.”

  He does? I watch him carefully, trying to see if he’s sincere or not. He stares back, his expression never wavering. Maybe he is being truthful.

  “You should come to my party, Olivia,” Tuttle says, making me turn away from Ryan.

  I make a face as I look at Tuttle. Why does he keep calling me by my full name? It’s weird. “I don’t think…”

  “Don’t think. Just say yes,” Ryan says, interrupting me. “Bring your friend if that makes you feel more comfortable.”

  How is that going to make me more comfortable if I barely even know Amanda? This entire situation is getting completely out of hand. “Ryan…”

  “Don’t argue. Don’t protest.” He rests his finger against my lips, silencing me when I was fully prepared to argue and protest. “Come on, Livvy. We really want you there. You and Amanda.”

  “What about Em?” I ask, my voice small, my brain fully prepared for another one of his bullshit answers. But I have to ask again. I have to make sure.

  “What about her? I already told you. Forget that chick.” His lips quirk up. “Oh, wait, I already have.” He holds up his hand and Tuttle gives him a high five as they both laugh.

  “You two are pigs.”

  “Give me a break. You’re mad at her. I know you two had a falling out. You and Dustin too.” He skims his fingers down my cheek, the feather-light touch sending my senses into overdrive. “What better way to get revenge on them than to come with me to the party tonight?”

  I would never consider myself petty. I’m not one to stoop low and I don’t like playing games.

  But at this very moment, I feel like my life has turned into one giant game, and I need to stay ahead in order to not get burned.

  I was already burned by Em and Dustin, and their betrayal cut like a knife.

  Maybe now I can finally even up the score.

  When school lets out I walk home, texting Amanda along the way. I’m reluctant to go to the party. What if Em’s there? Worse…what if Dustin’s there? I don’t want to deal with either of them, and I definitely don’t want to deal with the both of them.

  I won’t go to Tuttle’s party if Amanda can’t make it. And for a minute, I think she’s going to back out, what with the text she sends me.

  Tuttle is an asshole. He made fun of me in eighth grade.

  Laughing, I type out my reply.

  He makes fun of everyone at some point in our lives. Now you’re just part of the club.

  The summer afternoon air is hot. Stifling. I think of Em’s pool. Of jumping into the water, feeling it wrap around me and cool my skin, ease my thoughts.

  I frown. I should forget all about Em’s pool. Me hanging out at her house is never going to happen again. Our friendship is over. And no matter how much it hurts, how much I might miss her, I can’t forget that she betrayed me.

  My phone dings again and I read the texts from Amanda.

  So you’re going to force me to go to Tuttle’s party? Fine.

  I’ll go. I’ll even drive. What time should I pick you up?

  Let’s go late. The less time I spend with Tuttle, the better.

  I’m relieved she offered to drive. Though she keeps mentioning Tuttle, which is somehow…telling? Maybe?

  Pick me up around nine? My mom probably won’t let me leave the house if it’s any later.

  Sounds good.

  I shove my phone into the back pocket of my shorts. I’ll tell Mom I’m spending the night at Amanda’s. Or maybe even Em’s. She won’t check on me and anyway—she doesn’t have a clue we’re fighting. I didn’t want to tell Mom about any of it. She’d ask too many questions, questions I didn’t want to answer so I remain quiet.

  It’s easier.

  As I approach my house, my heart falls into my toes when I see Dustin’s familiar black Jeep parked in the driveway. I stop in front of our neighbor’s house and look around, trying to figure out if I can make my escape without Dustin seeing me, but it’s too late.

  He’s climbing out of the Jeep, looking good in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that hugs his lean torso, his expression contrite when he faces me. I stay rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to tear my gaze off of him. My heart is racing. My head is spinning.

  And the anger begins to simmer to a low boil.

  “Go away,” I yell at him.

  “We need to talk, Livvy. You can’t avoid me forever,” he says, his voice washing over me and reminding me for a brief second that I still care about this boy, despite what he’s done to me.

  “Watch me,” I say, my tone defiant as I dart across the lawn and make my way toward the front door. I fumble with the zipper on my backpack, undoing the small pocket in the front so I can yank out my keys. My hands are shaking as I try to unlock the door and then he’s there, standing directly behind me, his hand on my upper arm as he tries to turn me around to face him.

  “Come on,” he pleads. “Look at me.”

  “No.” I finally succeed in opening the door and I squeeze inside, trying to shut the door on him, but he thrusts his shoulder forward and blocks me, pushing his way in.

  I fight against him, but he’s stronger than me. He sets me aside and shuts the door, locking it behind him. He’s angry too. I can tell by the way the corded muscles in his neck stand out in stark relief, how he glares at me with those dark, all-knowing eyes.

  He has almost a dangerous air about him and my traitorous body responds. Dustin’s…hot like this. Mad at me. Frustrated with me.

  The feeling is mutual.

  “You’re going to believe Em over me?” he says as he leans against the front door. “After everything we’ve been through? Seriously?”

  “I don’t want you in my house.” My voice is shaky. I curl my arms in front of my chest so he can’t see that my hands are shaky too. “Go home, Dustin.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “There’s nothing to say!” The words burst out of me like I can’t control them, and it feels like I really can’t. “You had sex with Em and kept it from me. Oh, and we messed around with each other too, but we also kept it from Em. How messed up are we, huh?”

  “Livvy…”

  “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Dustin.” I never really understood that cliché before, but now I totally get it. Dustin wants us both hanging on a string, tied to him, so he can yank us back in whenever he chooses. He can’t have both of us.

  He can’t have me.

  “What happened with Em…” He takes a deep breath and expels it slowly, tilting his head back so he’s staring up at the ceiling. “Nothing much happened at all, I swear. It meant nothing. It was a mistake.”

  “A mistake that happened a couple of times,” I remind him and the miserable expression he wears confirms what Em told me, though he doesn’t answer me.

  It wasn’t just a one shot deal. He’d messed around with her multiple times. The realization settles like a rock in my stomach.

  “Like you and I were a mistake. Right?” I throw out on purpose, hopin
g it’ll hurt him.

  The wounded look he sends my way tells me I made a direct hit. “You don’t believe that.”

  “Oh, but I do.” I turn and walk deeper into the living room and he follows me, his hand hooking around my arm. I tug out of his grip and he grabs me again, spinning me around so I have to face him. “There’s nothing left to say, Dustin. I want you to leave.”

  His expression hardens, his mouth thinning into a straight line. “I can’t believe you’d be this heartless.”

  “Heartless? Heartless? I can’t believe you have the nerve to say that to me! You’re the one who asked me to be your girlfriend, all while you knew you’d hooked up with Em and kept it from me! You’re the heartless one, asshole,” I bite out that last word, and I’m so angry, I’m breathing hard.

  “You don’t think I feel bad for doing that? I never wanted to hurt you—”

  “Too late!” I lunge toward him, my hands landing on his chest as I give him a hard shove. He goes stumbling back, the look of shock on his face almost comical.

  But I’m not in the mood to laugh.

  “I messed everything up. I’m sorry,” he whispers, rubbing at his chest like I might’ve hurt him. Maybe I did, I don’t know. It’s wrong, but I wouldn’t mind making him hurt just a little. Payback for what he did to me. “I’m so sorry, Livvy.”

  “Fuck you.” I’ve never said those two words and really meant them before.

  I do now, though. I mean it with every fiber of my being. Fuck Dustin. Fuck Em. Fuck the both of them for keeping their secrets and ruining everything.

  They ruined everything.

  Everything.

  The tears slip down my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying. I wipe at them furiously, feeling weak. The last thing I want in front of Dustin. He’ll jump on that. I know he will.

  And then he’s right there, standing directly in front of me, and I don’t fight him. I don’t push him away.