Love in the Friend Zone
Page 2
I chuckled. Stage freight had been a real and tangible terror for him since he’d botched the words to “This Land is Your Land” in our second-grade history production.
“But you never know,” he said as I walked slowly past him. “This ceremony could be different.”
“Always the optimist.” I patted the center of his chest.
“That’s what you love about me.” He smirked that damn smile and my knees wobbled.
I refused to look back or comment on his statement. How could I? He was right in more ways than he even realized.
I spotted my mom across the auditorium, flailing her arms like the best fangirl I’d ever seen. Heat blazed on my cheeks as I gave her a tiny wave, scanning the area for Dad. I knew he wouldn’t show—wife number three liked to travel to the Bahamas in May. I had been stupid to hope. Mom was more than enough, always had been, so I took another glance back at her with the wave and acknowledgment she deserved. Fynn did the same with his parents, a solid couple who made me think fairy tales really did exist.
Filing into an open row of seating in the back, Fynn sat next to me. I nearly fell asleep as first our principal spoke, then the football coach, and then one of the counselors. Fynn nudged me in the side when Gordon Meyers walked across the stage, looking more than dapper in a suit with a lavender shirt underneath his jacket. His brown hair was slicked back, and I sat up straighter, wanting to hear whatever he had to say—he was close with Fynn, too, and somehow managed to juggle working at his dad’s burger shop, volunteering as much as Zoey did, and studying his ass off in order to get into Stanford. Whatever came out of his mouth was always worth hearing.
He stepped up to the podium, flashing a smile at Zoey Handler—who sat on the right of the stage in her prime place as Valedictorian, waiting for him to introduce her so she could deliver the final speech that would send us all into the ether with positive rays of sunshine shooting out of our butts. Zoey hadn’t found that notion funny when I’d said as much after listening to her speech for the third time at her house two weeks ago.
“As Salutatorian,” Gordon said into the microphone, “it is my duty to fully expose to my fellow students…Hampton Eagles, Class of 2017…the true nature of our valedictorian, Zoey Handler, in all her glory.”
My eyes widened and I scooted to the edge of my seat, sparing a glance to Fynn, who looked just as confused as me. Gordon’s tone was playful, but his words seemed sharper than I expected for a simple introductory speech.
“Zoey. What can one really say about her?” he continued. “She’s perfect. You can’t ever say the girl isn’t perfect. Never late to class. Never missed a class. Never gives up. Never lets anyone else have their shot…”
I grabbed Fynn’s hand, leaning toward his ear as Gordon proceeded to deliver the most incredible and horrific introduction I’d ever heard. “This is brilliant,” I whispered. The boy was phrasing his words in such a way it was hard to tell if he was condemning or praising her, but it was clear to me he wasn’t giving an introduction, he was slaying her. “My headline would be, Salutatorian Slays Valedictorian in Introductory Speech.”
Fynn shook his head. “Have you no sympathy for Zoey? She’s a friend.”
“Of course I do,” I said. Zoey had been my first real “girl” friend ever. We’d bonded freshman year over our love of Nutella—we’d both chosen the to-go packs as our snack of choice—and from there it was history. “I wouldn’t really write it.” My skin tightened on Zoey’s behalf, my cheeks nearly flushing with what I could only imagine was her level of embarrassment. “This is insane.” I pointed at where Gordon still stood at the podium. “Look at Zoey. She knows what he’s saying. That’s all that matters.” Poor Zoey, she had her legs crossed as tight as her arms, her face a mask of numb mortification. Despite Gordon being a friend, too, I wanted to rush the stage and shove him off the mic, and end the roast on her behalf.
Fynn nodded next to me, leaning close enough to whisper back in my ear. I closed my eyes as his breath hit my neck, unable to stop the chills that raked against my skin. “I rarely understand what these two are saying. Could you imagine if they actually liked each other?”
A laugh ripped from my lips, resulting in several extremely stern shushes aimed at my back. Including one from Katy, who I only now realized, sat right in front of Fynn. She even made the ugly robes we wore look glamorous. Perfect. Party hasn’t started and she’s already in my space.
“Never,” I finally answered him quietly. “Zoey has been battling him since grade school.”
Fynn shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”
“Yeah. Like you falling for…” I eyed the back of Katy’s perfectly blonde head.
His eyes widened as he shook his head before he forced himself to focus on Zoey as she walked up to the podium. She wrung her hands as Gordon strolled past her. Well, he was beyond pleased with himself. I didn’t have a clue what had spurred the less than flattering speech—it was so out of character for him—but I was sure Zoey would enlighten me in due time.
I held my breath as she reached the podium, her hands on either side as she looked down at her notecards—which I knew were color-coded—as if they were blank.
“Oh no,” I said, gasping as I saw the panic filter across her face.
“What?”
“She’s lost.”
We sat in silence as Zoey fumbled over her words, barely muttering a good luck before rushing off stage.
She’d worked on that speech for weeks—I’d heard it in her bedroom, in the girl’s locker room, in my car while we grabbed drive-thru—it would’ve been epic. And now? It was over. In a snap. She hadn’t managed to speak a word of what she’d prepared, and I couldn’t imagine how much that crushed her because she would never get another chance to deliver the words again.
High school was over.
Really over.
A sinking weight hit the bottom of my heart, plummeting it right down into my stomach. I glanced sideways at Fynn, and the pain doubled.
If he chose to stay closer to home, I wouldn’t see him every day. Wouldn’t hear him laugh, wouldn’t catch a whiff of his intoxicating scent, wouldn’t meet him for breakfast just because we could. The life I’d depended on for years was suddenly changing, and it was like I only just now realized it.
I sucked in a sharp breath, all at once wishing for more time and wanting it to be the first day of college already. I was more than prepared to start my educational future, but my emotional one? I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready for that—ready for Fynn to know the truth.
Fynn was right, this ceremony had been different.
I nodded at him while we split to go hug our parents, unable to shake off the ice-cold sense of awareness that had hit me after Zoey rushed off stage.
“Mom,” I said, squeezing her tight and not giving a damn if anyone was looking. I needed her right now more than ever.
“Whoa,” she said, smoothing down my hair. “You okay?” she asked. “Worried about Zoey?”
I let her go. “Yes.” Though that wasn’t the only thing.
“I’m sorry your father couldn’t make it.” She squeezed my hand. “But I’m so proud of you, Braylen.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. Of course she would think some of my tension was because of Dad not being here. The reminder that he had missed such a monumental time—something that would never happen again—only made me feel more twisted inside. I shrugged it off.
“Oh,” she said, dragging out the word as she eyed just over my shoulder.
I spun around, following her line of sight to where Fynn’s father had his arm around his shoulder, his mom snapping a million photos on her phone.
“Fynn still undecided?” Mom asked, and I turned back to face her.
“What?”
“About Northwestern.”
“Yeah,” I said. “So.”
She eyed me. “You can’t blame him for wanting to stay close to home. Some kids like the ide
a of not being thousands of miles away.”
“Mom,” I groaned. “If the best journalism college was here, I’d be—”
“Oh honey, I know,” she cut me off, a laugh on her lips but her eyes glistening.
The rock in my throat doubled. I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Not now,” I said, dabbing at my eyes. “We have all summer to do this.” I smiled and hugged her again.
“Totally.” The word came out so forced it only made me laugh harder. “Will I see you tonight?”
“I have to get ready before Lennon’s party.” I crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to look back at Fynn even though my heart begged me to.
Mom arched an eyebrow at me. “Well, don’t sound so thrilled about it.”
I sighed. I was never good at lying to Mom, and I wasn’t about to start now.
“Hey,” she said. “You need an out?”
I smiled, shaking my head. She’d always offered me a no-questions-asked out if I needed an excuse to come home early or not show up at all. Luckily, I’d never had to use it, but I loved her that much more for always willing to be my scapegoat. “Thanks, but I’m good,” I said. “I think everything is just hitting me at once.”
“It always will.” She patted my back.
I laughed. “Thanks for that encouragement.”
“You’re an adult now.” She shrugged. “No reason to sugar coat it.”
“You’ve never sugar coated anything before,” I said, laughing. “And that’s why you’re the best mom ever.”
She covered the center of her chest. “Life goal accomplished.” Her eyes trailed toward the stage. “You think I should go look for Zoey back there?”
I took a moment, contemplating it. “No,” I finally said. “She’d be more embarrassed if you sought her out. Though I know she’s glad you’re here. I didn’t see her parents, so they probably had a meeting come up or something for the company.”
Mom shook her head, and I couldn’t help but agree with her. It sucked that Dad wasn’t here, but I had her. Zoey had no one but us.
“Well,” Mom said, drawing my attention. “Text me if you need anything later. Or if Zoey does. You know our home is her home.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“And Braylen,” she said while turning to leave.
“Yeah?”
“Try and have a fun night tonight. With Fynn.” She eyed me too knowingly and heat dusted my cheeks.
“Will do,” I choked out. I’d never told her flat out I was in love with him, but I doubted she missed it. I was super close with her, since it was just us—which made it harder to leave for college, but I was born to attend Northwestern and she knew it.
I waited until Fynn’s parents had left before returning to his side. I was about to touch his arm to gain his attention when Katy bounced up to him.
“What did Zoey do to him, Fynn?” she asked, her tone so familiar, as if they chatted on the reg.
What the hell is happening today?
Fynn’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down he swallowed so hard, his knuckles practically turned white as he gripped the rolled program in his hand. My eyes bounced from his face as he clearly floundered in his head for something to say, to Katy, whose perfectly glossed lips softened in a sweet smile as she waited for him to respond.
The awkwardness mounted as I realized I had no chance to escape whatever this conversation might turn into if Fynn even remembered how to speak.
Oh holy hell, I can’t let him crash and burn.
“Yeah,” I said, elbowing Fynn in the side. “You were just saying something about Gordon and Zoey’s long history of battles, right, Fynn?”
A quick sigh puffed from his lips. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat as he focused on Katy. “They have a long history of fighting for the same things—class president, school store manager, and most recently, Valedictorian.”
Katy nodded, never taking her eyes off Fynn. “Wow, I didn’t realize it went that deep.” She flipped her hair as she glanced back at the stage, then quickly turned around. “Will you be at Lennon’s tonight?”
Oh good God, this is worse than when Tony Stark took shrapnel to the chest.
“Yeah?” Fynn answered like he was asking a question. The friend in me wanted to help him, but the girl who had to watch the boy she loved talk to the girl he was chasing made me want to crawl into a hole and die.
“Nice,” Katy said, pulling out her cell to answer a text. She snapped her head to the right, spotting one of her friends waiting in the aisle. “I’m coming, Donna!” she screamed before pocketing her cell and glancing up at Fynn. “Well, see you guys tonight!”
He nodded so quickly some of his brown hair fell in his eyes. The urge to both push it back and vomit hit me at the same time.
The longer Fynn stood there staring after her until she left the auditorium, the more my stomach turned sour.
“Well.” I finally broke the silence, smacking him a little too hard on his deliciously muscled biceps. “You’ve got this. No need for me to go anymore.”
At least I’m off the hook for that torture. Now I could stay home and drown myself in Ben & Jerry’s and put Guardians of the Galaxy on repeat, let the sweet dance moves and sexy abs of Chris Pratt soothe my stinging wounds.
“What?” Fynn snapped, looking down at me. “No!”
I blinked at him, utter confusion scrunching up my eyebrows. “She said she’ll see you at the party! My work is done.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can’t do this without you, Bray.”
Ugh, do you have to say my name like that?
“This is way more complicated than that. Now I need to keep her interested, maybe even play hard to get a little. You’re the key to everything.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
I sighed. Damn, I’d been so close to escaping wingman duty.
“Zoey!” I yelled, thankful for the opportunity to at least escape this conversation. I jumped into the aisle, stopping her as she finally headed toward the exit after disappearing backstage for twenty minutes. I wrapped my arms around her, giving her a good squeeze. “You okay?”
She tilted her chin upward, her blond curls falling over her shoulders—maintaining that vision of elegance I’d always been a tad jealous of. “Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “But Gordon will pay. Tonight. I’m going to figure out something extra special for him.” She arched an eyebrow at me.
Was that what she’d been doing backstage? Plotting? It made more sense than crying. Zoey didn’t cry—there was no time for it on her daily checklist that had her busy from sun up to the time she finally went to bed. I shuddered for what awaited Gordon. “You’re going to Lennon’s, right?” she asked. “You want in?”
“I…” I shifted my weight, glancing at Fynn, who was now talking to Lennon. “I’m kind of tied up helping someone else tonight.”
“Fine,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “But you’ll be there to witness it, right?”
I shrugged. “Apparently.” She gave me a firm nod and trotted off toward the exit. “Good luck?” I called after her before turning toward Fynn and Lennon.
“No, man,” Lennon said. “The show is at the end of the night. I wouldn’t play the whole damn party.” He leaned over the seat in front of Fynn, his long brown hair a tangled mess below his ears. He casually pushed it back, his fingernails painted a mixture of black and purple today.
“Still. I don’t know how you do it,” Fynn said.
“I know,” Lennon said, rolling his eyes. “Getting on stage to you is like—”
“The equivalent of being dropped in a vat of acid,” Fynn finished for him.
Lennon and I laughed.
“Glad to hear you’re coming, though.” Lennon smiled at me. “And you’re bringing your date?”
I laughed a very awkward and sarcastic laugh. “Funny, Lennon.”
He raised his hands. “I call it how I see it.”
“Remember to bring your suits if you want to check out the infinity pool!” Lennon called from behind us. “And don’t take too long to show up. I can’t guarantee the cops will stay away from us all night!”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Fynn called back, pushing me just a little bit faster.
I dug in the heels of my sneakers out of spite—I was so glad our school wasn’t strict on dress codes for the ceremony, allowing me the luxury of donning my Chucks underneath the itchy robes. I wasn’t coordinated enough to wear heels like Zoey—and Katy—did effortlessly. I turned to glare at Fynn as he rushed me. I was in no hurry to watch Katy’s sudden interest in him deepen at the party—because how could she not fall for him? He was…Fynn.
As I whipped back around, I ran smack dab into someone sprinting out of the auditorium. “I’m sorry!” I screeched as we tumbled to the floor, our arms a tangled mess. “Jade,” I said as I regained my footing and offered her a hand up. Fynn scooped up the Calc II book she’d been carrying and handed it to her. She took the book and clutched it to her chest.
“It’s okay, Braylen,” she said, pushing her black rimmed glasses up her nose. “I’m used to tripping over myself. Nice to not be at fault this time.”
I chuckled, nodding toward the book. “You heading to Mr. Pryor’s room to return that?”
She stroked the spine like she didn’t want to let it go—ever the highest-ranking Mathlete in Hampton High. “Yes.”
“Nice. We’ll walk with you.” I motioned for her to lead the way. Mr. Pryor’s room was right next to the journalism room, and walking next to Jade—chatting about her future plans at UCLA—was more than a welcomed distraction.
The second she turned in to the math room, I was once again alone with Fynn as we headed for the journalism room. A ball of nerves twisted in my stomach as we silently finished gathering the rest of his things. After what I’d agreed to help him do tonight, I wasn’t sure anything would be the same between us. Neither one of us had ever dated anyone seriously. Never had anyone else stealing the other’s attention enough to lessen the time we spent together, and if Katy and Fynn started dating, I could kiss my best friend good-bye.