Forever: A Friends Novel

by Monica Murphy

  Now it’s Saturday morning and I got to sleep in since I was out so late the night before, thanks to the playoff game—which we won, by only a field goal. Meaning our defensive line couldn’t hold them as well and the opposing defensive line sacked my ass more times than I want to admit. I’m sore and bruised and I’d sleep all day if I could, especially since my parents are gone and there won’t be anybody around.

  But I promised Amanda I would take her to work at eleven, so that means I need to get my butt out of bed and take a quick shower before I head over to her house.

  I check my phone, scrolling through my notifications and smiling faintly when I spot the Snapchat from Amanda. I ignore all the other messages and open the one from Amanda. It’s a stern-faced selfie and she’s pointing her finger at me with the message, Don’t forget to pick me up at 10:45.

  I take a quick and serious selfie and include a message before I hit send.

  How could I forget you?

  She sends me back a pic of her standing in the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around her, her dark, wet hair spilling past her shoulders. Her face and neck are a rosy shade of pink and I think I can make out a few water droplets clinging to her skin, but then the photo’s gone.

  Stupid fucking Snapchat.

  I take another quick selfie and include another message.

  Drop the towel.

  The selfie that comes back is of her smiling, one brow arched, and a message.

  Send me a pic of your abs and I’ll consider it.

  My abs?

  I sit up in bed and shove the covers off me, kicking them off the bed. I aim my camera at my stomach and take a photo, then send it.

  Within seconds there’s a new photo, and it’s of her with the towel still on and she’s pouting.

  I need a better pic. Sexier. She also includes a blushing emoji.

  Huh. All right. I’ll deliver.

  It takes a few minutes, but I finally have the pose down. It’s a full body shot from my chest down, with one hand slipped just beneath the waistband of the black mesh shorts I only pulled on a few seconds ago. I thought about sending her a naked pic, but I don’t want to freak her out completely.

  Baby steps.

  I caption the photo Does this work for you? And hit send.

  A few minutes tick by and I’m starting to worry I pushed it, though I got the notification that she screenshot the image. Great. Will she use it against me later? She’s not like that, so I doubt it.

  Maybe she hates the photo. I run a hand through my hair, tug on the ends so hard that it hurts. Why hasn’t she responded? What is she doing? I check the time. I need to get in the damn shower so I can be there to pick her up by ten forty-five.

  Finally I get a reply and I open it to find a photo of her from the waist up, her hair still hanging in front of her now bare chest and one arm slung over her breasts. She’s smiling and I screenshot it quick before it disappears. Then I call her.

  “Tell me you’re in the shower,” she answers.

  “Want me to send you a photo to prove it?”

  “No! You need to go get ready so we won’t be late.”

  “Your photo was a rip off.”

  “What do you mean?” I can hear the frown in her voice.

  “I asked you to drop the towel.”

  “And I did.”

  “But I couldn’t see anything.”

  “I did what you asked. I guess you needed to be more specific.” I can hear the laughter in her voice, and I like it. Even though I’m irritated that I didn’t get to see her actually topless.

  “Okay, how specific is this for you?” I take a deep breath. “Send me a naked photo next time.”

  “Jordan.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know you are, but I don’t have time for this right now. I have to get ready for work.”

  “So responsible.” I hesitate before I ask, “What did you think of the photo I sent you?”

  “It was nice,” she admits softly.

  “Just nice? Not sexy or groundbreaking or hot?”

  “Oh, it was definitely hot. You have the best abs I’ve ever seen.” She ends that sentence with a giggle.

  And that giggle is like a shot powering straight through me, settling in my gut—and lower. “Remember that one time you licked them?” I ask her, my voice low, my thoughts dirty.

  “Jordan! We are not having this discussion right now. Go get in the shower.” She ends the call before I can say anything else, and I start to laugh. She’s a bossy little thing when she wants to be.

  I freaking love it.

  After I get out of the shower and I’m towel-drying my hair, I see I have a missed call from my mom.

  Shit. I do not want to call her back.

  I finish getting ready and am halfway out the door when my cell rings. Mom again. Reluctantly I answer the call.

  “I’m at the airport and I’ll be home later this afternoon,” she says to me in greeting. “We’re having dinner tonight. You, me and your father.”

  “I have plans,” I tell her gruffly, even though I don’t. I’ll make sure I do. I’ll take Amanda out to dinner or to the movies or whatever. And if she can’t I’ll figure out something else. No way am I having dinner with my parents on a Saturday night. That sounds like a nightmare.

  “Cancel them. We need to talk to you.”

  “What about?”

  “Stop questioning me and just do as I say!” she practically screeches.

  I pull the phone away from my ear. Jesus. “I’ll bring a guest then.” Hopefully Amanda will agree to go. I went to her family dinner, so it only seems fair.

  “No. Absolutely not. This is a family matter we need to discuss. I don’t want any interlopers trying to nose into our business.”

  “What time is dinner?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  “Fine,” I bite out, hating that she’s won. They always win. Despite the fact they’re shitty parents, they have the upper hand because I’m a minor. And I hate it. When I turn eighteen, I swear to God I’m out of their house forever. I don’t care if I still have school. I’ll figure something else out. I gain control of my trust fund too, so it’s not like I won’t have money.

  “I’ll see you then.” I end the call before she can say anything else, and I hope like hell that pisses her off.

  But that’s not satisfying enough. I wrap both hands around my phone and hold the top edge of it to my forehead, closing my eyes. Trying my best to keep my anger under control. I want to throw something. Break something.

  Instead I take deep, even breaths. Tell myself to get my shit together. Try to focus on the fact that I need to be calm and normal when I pick up Amanda. The last thing I wanna do is freak her out.

  I drop my arms down to my sides and open my eyes. Catch my reflection in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. I nod and grin, thinking the smile looks pretty damn real.

  Even though it’s totally fake.

  Since I’ve started working here, business at Yo Town has slowly died, mostly because of the cold weather. I guess no one wants to eat frozen yogurt in November—I can’t blame them. Thanks to this, my hours have been drastically cut, and I rarely work with Blake, the Yo Town owners’ son. I still see him around school, but we don’t talk much. We have Honors English together along with Jordan, though I think Jordan intimidates him, so he pretty much ignores me.

  But this afternoon, we’re working together for the first time in a long time. From the moment I get there, it’s pretty busy, customers constantly coming in, especially big groups of kids who always make a horrible mess. As the afternoon progresses, traffic quietly dies off. It’s almost closing time and we’re both cleaning up around the place when he asks me a question.

  “So, uh, do you ever talk to Kyla?”

  I look over at him, pretending to be nonchalant when I spot the nervousness written all over his face. It’s kind of cute, how unsure he appears. If Kyla has a hard time trusting guys beca
use of what happened to her, Blake would be a good choice as a date, even as a potential boyfriend. He’s sweet, kind and smart. He’s not drop-dead gorgeous, but he’s cute.

  Blake’s the type of guy I would’ve gone for if Jordan Tuttle hadn’t walked into my life.

  “I talk to Kyla all the time,” I answer as I wipe off all the sticky round tables. People are such slobs, especially kids. They let the frozen yogurt melt and drip everywhere. “Like almost every day.”

  “Really?” Blake sounds surprised.

  “Well, yeah. We run the hydration station for the football team together, remember?”

  “Oh yeah, that’s right.” His expression turns sheepish. “I forgot.”

  Really? I don’t know if I believe him, but whatever. “You like her, huh.”

  “Well, um, kind of.” He shakes his head, his cheeks turning pink. “But I don’t think she likes me.”

  “How do you know?”

  Blake shrugs, looking sad. “I don’t know. She just—she doesn’t seem that in to me. She’s in a couple of my classes so we talk a lot, and everything seems like it’s going great. We have a lot of stuff in common, she laughs at my lame jokes, but then just when I work up the nerve to ask her out, she seems to, like, mentally retreat. It’s the weirdest thing.”

  I think I know why she acts like that, but it’s not up to me to tell him. “Maybe she’s just really shy.”

  “Yeah, maybe. I don’t see her with guys much. She has a few close friends, and she seems to keep to herself a lot.” He leans the broom against the front counter and goes to sit at one of the small tables, looking defeated. “I don’t know if she’s really interested in me, you know? What if she thinks I’m just a friend?”

  “You’ll never know if you never take a chance and ask her out,” I suggest gently.

  “I don’t want her to reject me.”

  “You’d rather live with regret then? Always asking yourself ‘what if’?” I’m trying to live my life without regret, but it’s hard when certain things make you nervous. Like rejection. Like accepting someone back into your life even though you know they’re most likely going to hurt you again.

  I totally understand where Blake is coming from.

  Blake drops his head, gazing at the table. “When you put it like that…” His voice drifts and he watches me helplessly. Like I have all the answers.

  So I give him one.

  “Just ask her out. I’m sure she won’t reject you. Ask her to the movies or take her to dinner or whatever. Keep it simple.”

  “You really think she’ll say yes?” He lifts his head so our gazes meet.

  “Yeah, I really do.” God, I hope she does. I will feel awful if she turns him down.

  We continue cleaning and talking about school when the door swings open and in walks…Eli Bennett and Lauren Mancini. Holding hands. Laughing together. Looking very much like a couple.

  What. The. Hell.

  I turn to look at Blake and mouth, I’m outta here. I don’t want Lauren or Eli to see me, though Lauren knows I work at Yo Town. She probably came here and brought Eli on purpose.

  But to, what? Humiliate me? Last time I talked to him, he was still willing to chase after me, despite my obvious disinterest. The guy is persistent, I’ll give him that, but his persistence can get annoying quick.

  I’m almost to the door that leads to the back of the building when Lauren calls out my name. I freeze and slowly turn around, pasting a smile on my face. “Hey,” I say weakly, offering a lame wave as a greeting. I glance down at my shirt, see the smear of chocolate right in the middle from the melted M&Ms I cleaned up earlier.

  “Having another fun afternoon selling frozen yogurt?” Lauren asks brightly, her eyes wide, her smile as friendly as a shark’s.

  “Amanda, I didn’t know you worked here.” Eli grins and lets go of Lauren’s hand, moving toward me like he’s going in for a hug. His arms are wide open, but I dodge around him at the last minute.

  “I’m surprised Lauren didn’t tell you,” I say, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. I don’t care how defensive I look. I don’t want to go back out there and help them or ring them up. The second they turn around I’m going into the back and staying there until they leave.

  “Nah, she didn’t.” Eli glances over at Lauren and she smiles sweetly in return. Gag. “It’s good to see you, though you’re…kind of a mess.”

  Ah, leave it to good ol’ Eli Bennett and his annoying honesty. “This is what happens when you have to actually work for a living,” I tell them both, annoyed. “Sometimes life is a little messy.”

  “How does Jordan feel about that?” Lauren asks snidely.

  “Feel about what?” I am so done with this snobby, rude, inconsiderate bitch. “And do you really have the right to use his name like that?”

  She rests a hand on her chest like I shocked her. “It is his name, isn’t it?”

  I hate how superior she acts all the time. “No one ever calls him Jordan. Even the teachers call him Tuttle.”

  “She’s right,” Eli adds, earning a dirty look from Lauren. “What? It’s true. Everyone calls him Tuttle.”

  “I don’t call him Tuttle,” Lauren says, turning her venomous gaze on me. “Considering we used to be together, I think I’m allowed to call him whatever I want, whenever I want.”

  “But that was a long time ago, wasn’t it? Like when we were fourteen?” Extra heavy emphasis on the word “fourteen”, because come on. How serious could their relationship have been?

  “Such a long time ago, I barely remember it,” another very familiar voice confirms from behind Lauren and Eli.

  My gaze lands on Jordan’s scowling face and I can’t help but smile at him. My own personal hero, always to my rescue.

  He has impeccable timing.

  “Jordan!” Lauren practically squeals when she turns and sees him. If she starts hopping up and down and clapping, I might cut a bitch. “What are you doing here?”

  “Picking my girlfriend up from work,” he says easily, dropping the word girlfriend like it’s no big deal. The disappointment on her face, in her body language, is painfully obvious. “What are you doing here?” He sends Eli a quick look. “Isn’t he a little young for you, Lauren?”

  “Um, we just had a sudden craving for frozen yogurt,” Lauren says, ignoring Jordan’s rude comment. “Come on, Eli.” She grabs hold of Eli’s hand and starts to drag him over to the yogurt machines. “Let’s go pick out what flavors we want.”

  “Hey, Tuttle,” Eli says as he walks past, but Jordan doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t even look at them.

  He only has eyes for me.

  They’re long gone and I still can’t move. I feel pinned in place by Jordan’s smoldering gaze. “You’re early,” I finally manage to say.

  “I was hoping we could leave now and your co-worker—” He says this word snidely. I don’t know why he doesn’t like Blake. It’s weird. “—can close up without you. What do you think?”

  Excitement bubbles deep within me. Wanting to get out of here now sounds promising. “Why do you want to leave now?”

  “I have plans.”

  He says the words with such finality, I realize quick those plans don’t include me. What else could he be doing? I should ask him.

  But instead of asking him, I say, “I’ll go check with Blake,” and walk away as fast as I can.

  Because really? I’m annoyed. There he goes again, being completely closed off and not telling me anything. I can’t read his mind. And I can’t figure out his mood either. This morning when he came by my house to pick me up, he’d seemed so happy, and fun too. Sexy and flirtatious and full of delicious kisses. At one point I’d been tempted to call in sick to work so I could spend the entire day with him.

  Now he’s acting standoffish. Like he doesn’t want to tell me anything, and I hate that. As his official/unofficial girlfriend, I think I have a right to know what’s going on.

  Don’t I?

 
I go behind the counter where Blake is waiting at the register for Eli and Lauren to finish so he can ring them up. “Do you mind if I leave a little early? My ride has somewhere he needs to be.”

  Oh, I sound so bitchy, but I don’t care. I’m mad.

  Blake frowns, tilting his head to the side. “You okay, Amanda?”

  I nod. Shrug. “Sure. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” He glances around the room, making a face when he hears Eli and Lauren giggling over at the toppings section. I would bet big money they’re destroying it. He lowers his voice. “Do you not want to leave with Tuttle? Is that the problem?”

  “Why would you ask that?” I frown.

  “I don’t know. You seem upset. And you weren’t upset until Tuttle walked into the place,” Blake points out. He stands a little straighter, squares his shoulders. Like he’s going to rush to my defense and fight Jordan. He’d get smashed in an instant. “If he’s not treating you right, let me know. You don’t deserve to be with an asshole.”

  What is it with guys always rushing to my defense? A few seconds ago, I loved it. Now I hate feeling so weak. “He’s not an asshole, Blake.” Well, maybe he is. “He’s never hurt me.” He broke my heart, but I guess that doesn’t count. “And I was sort of upset at Eli and Lauren when they came in, remember?”

  But Jordan did make it worse. Not that I want to admit it.

  “As long as you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure,” I say firmly. “But I’ll stay if you need me to. I’m scheduled to close and I don’t want to ditch you.”

  “No, it’s okay. If you want to go with him, go.” Blake chuckles, trying to lighten the mood I guess. “You’ll just have to return the favor sometime.” He smiles easily and I lunge toward him, giving him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. Why I’m so happy he gave in, I don’t know. I’m still angry at Jordan.

  It’s cute, though, how Blake’s face turns bright red, and when I release him, I glance over my shoulder to find Jordan watching us.

  Glaring.