Just Friends

by Monica Murphy

  “What are you talking about? I don’t keep secrets or play games,” Amanda says.

  “You so do.” I pause for effect before I say, “Tell me about Tuttle.”

  Her lips thin. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “Bullshit.”

  With a sigh she walks over to the porch swing—yes, her house is cute and cozy and in an older part of town, a quaint, clean neighborhood with huge trees and lots of chirping birds. Where there are porch swings and rosebushes in the immaculate front yards and sweet little wooden birdhouses tucked into the trees. It’s sweet and fits Amanda’s personality perfectly, and I’m sort of envious of this seemingly charmed life she leads.

  Though it’s really not charmed. Her ex cheated on her with her best friend. She quit the band, though clearly she misses it. And she has some weird twisted relationship thing going on with Tuttle that she’s not talking about with anyone.

  “You gonna sit with me or just stand there and stare?” Amanda asks when I don’t move.

  I sit next to her on the swing and she pushes off the ground with her feet, the swing gently swaying to and fro. She’s quiet and I realize she’s not going to spill as easily as I hoped, so I decide to break the ice.

  “I thought Dustin was still in love with me,” I admit, my voice soft, my heart aching. “But I realized last night that he’s probably over me.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  I told her about us going in search of Em. How worried I was, how frantic I was feeling. How distracted Dustin had become the longer the night went on and that eventually Em texted like no big deal. I never got a thank-you, I never got an explanation on where she was either. I might never find out, and I guess I don’t really have the right to ask.

  Dustin dropped me off at my house with a distracted goodbye and I watched him drive away. Watched as he drove past his house and went…somewhere else.

  I have no idea where or with who. I had no right to ask either. Instead, I’d lain awake in bed for half the night, unable to sleep.

  “He went with you and helped you,” Amanda points out when I finish my story. “He still cares.”

  “But it’s not the same.”

  “So you want him sitting around waiting for you, caring about you while you’re interested in someone else? That’s not fair,” Amanda says.

  She’s right. I know she’s right. I tell her about Ryan seeing me at Dustin’s house and how mad he’d been. I mention that Tuttle was with him, and her expression shifts. Changes. She drops her head, staring at her hands where they’re curled in her lap, and I wonder what she’s thinking.

  “What’s going on between you two?” I ask when she still won’t say anything and I feel like I’m about to burst. “And don’t say nothing because I won’t believe you.”

  Amanda lifts her head, her expression pained. “I think…I think he likes me.”

  I frown. “Do you mean Tuttle? You think he likes you?” She nods. “And that’s a bad thing….why?”

  She waves a hand, her eyes a little wild. “He’s Jordan Tuttle. The most popular boy in school, the richest, the smartest, the best looking…I could go on and on.”

  “And…” I’m still not getting the problem here.

  “Why would he be interested in me? Why would he care about me? I’m just…a nobody. I don’t even have band anymore and that was my one pitiful extracurricular activity I was good at.” She pushes at the ground so hard we send the swing flying, her side moving faster than mine, making the chains twist as the wooden swing jerks around.

  “Come on, Amanda. You’re pretty and you’re smart. You’re nice and you’re funny,” I say softly, but she just laughs and shakes her head.

  “He’s out of my league.”

  “Yet he’s interested.”

  “We hooked up over the summer. At his house. In his room. On his bed.” She slaps her hands over her face and gives a humiliated little cry. “Oh God, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

  I’m in shock. That was the absolute last thing I expected Amanda to say. “Wait a minute. You hooked up with Tuttle? Over the summer?”

  She nods, her hands still covering her face.

  “What about at his party when you said he slipped his hand between your legs?”

  “That really happened too.” Her voice is muffled because of her hands. “He’s very persistent.”

  “Have you two actually…done the deed?”

  “No!” She drops her hands, staring at me. Her eyes are glassy, like she’s this close to crying. “We just…messed around. Nothing serious. Well, I didn’t think it was anything serious. I was drunk and upset over finding my boyfriend with my best friend and Tuttle was kind enough to take care of me that night.”

  In more ways than one. I come this close to saying it, but I don’t want to make her mad.

  “He was being so sweet. I just…I let him kiss me. And we kept kissing. Until we started doing other stuff.” She covers her face once more. “This is so humiliating.”

  “Stop. We all do humiliating stuff. Like I have any room to judge.” I think of me and Ryan together before stupid Cannon rudely interrupted us. How I reacted afterward. What a mess that was. “He must really like you, Amanda, if he’s still trying to get with you. Tuttle doesn’t try to get with anyone.”

  “I think he likes that I resist him. I’m a challenge for him to conquer.” Her hands fall back into her lap. “I don’t want to be with him.”

  I try my best not to roll my eyes. “Come on.”

  “I’m serious. I don’t.” She turns to look at me, her expression telling me that she does not want to talk about this anymore. “What about you and Ryan?”

  I go on the immediate defensive. “What about him?”

  “What’s going on with you two? Do you really like him, or do you like Dustin?” When I don’t answer her right away, she continues, “I almost think you enjoy having both of them dangling on a string, fighting over you.”

  Her words make me flinch. “No, I don’t.”

  Do I?

  I’m not sure.

  Though I can’t deny the attention is…nice. I’ve never had two guys want to be with me before. I’ve never had any guy want to be with me before, except Dustin. I never planned on us hooking up. It happened almost…naturally, which sounds crazy. I knew deep in my heart I didn’t necessarily want to be with Dustin, not like that, but I also didn’t want to be alone either.

  Frowning, I drop my head, staring at the ground. God, what’s wrong with me? I’m such a selfish bitch, and it’s like I never even realized it until now.

  “So who do you want to be with? Dustin or Ryan?”

  “Dustin and I are just friends.” I look up and she sends me a pointed look. “Friends who messed around a few times. Something that probably should’ve never happened.”

  “But it meant more to him.”

  I nod. It meant a lot to me too. I was willing to give him a chance despite my fear.

  Now that’s all ruined.

  “Yet you don’t want to be with him like that.”

  I nod again. It’s kind of the truth, kind of a lie.

  “Then maybe you should go to Ryan and tell him how you feel,” she says, her voice gentle.

  “Ha. So I should hop on my bike and pedal over to his big mansion, knock on his door and ask his butler if he’s in? Looking like this?” I wave a hand at myself. I’m in black cropped leggings, an oversized tank top that shows my black sports bra, and my hair is in the sloppiest ponytail ever. “I’m a mess.”

  “Does he really have a butler?” Amanda asks incredulously.

  “I don’t know! His house is huge and he’s loaded, so I wouldn’t doubt it.” I shrug, feeling stupid.

  Amanda sighs. “Well, never mind that. Go home, take a shower and text him that you want to get together tonight. Tell him how you feel.”

  “No way.” She makes it sound so easy. Too easy.

  “Then explain what happened with Em and w
hy you were with Dustin.” She elbows me in the ribs. “Go to him. He’ll like it. He’s been sulking for a solid twenty-four hours. He needs to get over it.”

  “Maybe he’s already gotten over it—and me,” I say sullenly.

  “I doubt that.”

  “You shouldn’t. He moved from Em to me relatively quick,” I say.

  Her mouth drops open. “Seriously?”

  I forget that she doesn’t know all the dirty details. And that’s because I chose not to tell her. I don’t want her to hate me. Don’t want her to think I’m a boyfriend-thief either.

  A change of subject needs to happen and fast.

  “You should take some of your own advice and go talk to Tuttle,” I suggest.

  “No way,” she says too quickly. “I don’t like him. Remember?”

  I don’t bother arguing with her. She won’t admit she’s into him, so I’m not going to push the issue.

  Besides, I’m already considering taking Amanda’s advice and going to Ryan. It’s not necessarily a bad idea. Better than sitting around worrying about him for the rest of my Sunday.

  “Go,” she says when I remain quiet. “Text him and let him know you want to talk.”

  “But I was hoping we could hang out.” I don’t want her to think I’d come over here just to ditch her for a guy. I want a friend. I need someone who’s honest with me, who’s real with me. I feel like I’m surrounded by people who are either fake or they send mixed messages. It’s exhausting.

  “I can’t. I have to go to my grandma’s house tonight for dinner. Sunday family thing, you know?” She smiles.

  No, I really don’t know. She’s so wholesome it’s unreal. “Okay. I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

  “Monday is Labor Day,” she reminds me.

  “Oh, that’s right.” I totally forgot. “Okay, Tuesday then?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll come pick you up before school,” she suggests as we both rise from the swing. “That way you won’t have to walk and possibly run into someone you don’t want to.”

  “Like Dustin?”

  “Like Em.” Amanda embraces me, giving me a quick hug. “I’m glad you came over,” she says when she pulls away.

  “Me too,” I say with a little smile.

  He’s waiting for me in my driveway. I see him standing there as I cruise on my bike along the sidewalk. I hit the brakes, coming to a skidding stop a few feet away from him, and he finally spots me, his familiar, warm smile not making its usual appearance. He just watches me, his expression solemn, the breeze blowing through his dark hair, ruffling it so it falls into his eyes before he brushes it away impatiently.

  “What are you doing here?” My voice is scratchy and my throat feels raw again. Just like it did last night.

  Dustin shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugs. “We should talk.”

  I hop off my bike and walk it up my driveway and into the garage. “What about?” I ask as I set the bike where it belongs. I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to face him. I’m so nervous about him wanting to talk that I’m trembling.

  “Liv.” I turn around when he says my name and my gaze meets his. “I can’t do this anymore. Pretend that we’re just friends when I want…more. I can’t go back.”

  “Go back to what?”

  He runs his fingers through his hair, gripping it tight for a moment before he releases it. “Go back to us just hanging out, being there for each other. I thought I could. I thought I could be patient and wait you out, but…I can’t do it. It’s too hard.”

  Everything inside of me goes cold. “So you won’t even be my friend.”

  “I’ll never not be your friend, but I can’t spend so much time with you, like we did last night. Being with you like that drove me fucking crazy,” he admits, his gaze sliding away from mine so he can stare off into the distance. “All I wanted to do was kiss you, like, the entire time.”

  Would I have turned him away if he did? I was feeling weak last night and sad over Em’s disappearance. “What, until you got those text messages when we were at the club? Then you couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”

  That had hurt too. More than I wanted to admit.

  He frowns, his gaze meeting mine once more. “I went and hung out with friends, okay? It was no big deal. I needed to let off some steam and we met up and played basketball. I knew we were just running around chasing our tails looking for Em. It was a waste of our time, trying to find her.”

  “She’s our friend,” I start but he cuts me off.

  “Em doesn’t give a shit about us. She never really has. She uses you and she uses me and we both fall into line like trained monkeys, Livvy. It’s ridiculous. I’m over it. You should be over it too. You shouldn’t trust her.”

  His harsh words hit me like physical blows and I wince. He was the one who screwed around with Em while trying to pursue me. I can’t forget that. “Maybe I shouldn’t trust you either.”

  “You probably shouldn’t. You want a friend and all I can think about is ripping your clothes off,” he admits, his voice ragged.

  My heart does a flip. “Dustin…”

  He holds up a hand, his expression pained. “Don’t say it. Please. I’ll leave you alone.” He turns away from me, about to head back to his house, but I call his name again and he pauses, glancing over his shoulder at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, wishing I could say more, but…what? I’m at a loss here. He looks like he is too.

  “Just be patient with me, Livvy. If I keep my distance from you for a while, let me do it, okay? Don’t pressure me and don’t think I hate you. I could never hate you, no matter how much I try. My problem is I need to figure out how to get over you.” He smiles, and it’s a cute, sweet Dustin smile. “See ya around?”

  I nod, barely able to hold back the tears. He turns and walks back toward his house. Walks right out of my life.

  And quietly breaks my heart.

  “Hey.” Ryan opens his front door a little wider, his gaze roaming all over me, making my skin warm. “You look good.”

  “Thanks.” I’m glad he noticed. I have on my cutest floral print dress with the too-short skirt, the one I’m not allowed to wear to school anymore since it breaks dress code. I took my time doing my makeup after I got out of the shower, watching a YouTube tutorial on my phone as I sat in front of my mirror in my room.

  I’d wanted to look good for him tonight. Mom was working a night shift and that meant no one was at home waiting for me, watching the clock. Ready to bust me for breaking curfew. I could come and go as I pleased thanks to her taking that extra shift, and I was downright giddy over how adult it made me feel.

  “Come in,” he says, smiling at me as I enter the house, walking past him.

  He shuts the door as I stop in the foyer and gape at his home. It’s huge. Two stories, with soaring ceilings and so many huge windows, letting in the waning sunlight. The living room is massive, with blinding white couches and stark white walls, sleek silver end tables and a matching coffee table. A giant flat screen hangs on the wall and a stack of women’s magazines sits in a white basket nearby. The house is very clean, a burst of sunflowers in a tall silver vase sitting on a table by the entry, a tiny silver dish filled with loose change, a pack of gum and a set of keys next to it.

  Homey touches that make the room a little more comfortable, a little more real. Tuttle’s house looked like something out of a magazine, and way too perfect. Em’s house is big too, but I always felt comfortable there, considering we’d been friends for years. I was worried about Ryan’s place, but as he leads me into the kitchen, with its cream-colored cabinets and warm-toned granite countertops, I don’t feel as intimidated. Though it’s obvious he’s wealthy. Most everyone who goes to my school is wealthy.

  My house is one of the smaller ones in the neighborhood, and when my parents divorced, Dad took all of his wealth with him. Oh, he pays child support, which Mom grumbles about all the time since she feels he do
esn’t pay enough, and he set up a college fund for me. But honestly, I think Mom misses being one of the ladies who lunch, who don’t have to work and don’t even have to clean their house, considering they have maids. They do nothing all day but get manicures and sit by the pool and gossip—according to Mom.

  She kicked Dad out and eventually had to put her old nursing degree to good use by getting a job. A job she resents sometimes. I know she does. She resents living in this neighborhood too, surrounded by people she used to consider friends. But she didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to take me out of the school district, so she stuck around. Torturing herself. Torturing me sometimes too.

  “Want something to drink?” Ryan asks, his deep voice, pushing me out of my thoughts.

  I smile, reminding myself to focus on him. Tonight is all about him. And us. “Yeah, that would be great.”

  He goes to the large refrigerator with doors that match the cabinets and opens them, peering inside, the light from within bathing him in a silvery glow. Gilding his perfect features—the sharp point of his nose, the strong line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips. I stare, my insides twisting, my heart pumping, the blood rushing through my veins, making my skin tingle. He’s so gorgeous, like model beautiful, and I can’t believe I’m in his house. That he actually likes me.

  It’s so annoying that I still think like this. I don’t have the best self-esteem and sometimes I worry too much over why he’s interested in me. I tell myself I should be more confident, but it’s so hard.

  I texted him when I got home from Amanda’s, asking if we could get together, and he readily agreed, never once mentioning yesterday’s argument. I was relieved, not that I wanted to ignore what happened, but I’m not the best when it comes to dealing with confrontation. Though I’d been on a wild ride of confrontation since I came home from Oregon, that’s for sure.

  “Want a beer?” Ryan turns to look at me, his deep green eyes sparkling mischievously.

  “Are your parents home?” Did they let him drink beer with his friends?