Hostile(16)

Holy shit.

We’re totally going to be friends.





TWELVE





I can’t believe I agreed to let him come over here. What the fuck was I thinking?

His big, dumb blue eyes make me stupid.

Maybe I’m missing Bree so damn bad, I can barely stand it. And yet, I still can’t get it together enough to face her and talk it out. She seems to be just fine with this arrangement too.

I thought my heart would shrivel up completely when I saw her in the lunchroom. Fletch wanted me to go talk to her, sit, and eat lunch like we always have, but I couldn’t do it. I can’t take another second of the polite silence or her barely being able to look me in the eye.

So, yeah. Now I’m new friends with Grayson fucking Lancaster, and it’s bizarre. I don’t even know how to explain how insanely weird it is, but the guy is under my skin. I can admit he’s been in my thoughts lately. A total enigma. The cocky jock I’ve always thought he was is somehow morphing into this guy who cares about others and used to draw so well, my favorite teacher reminisces about his time in her class. A guy who, for whatever reason, suddenly won’t leave this total loner alone.

Who I’ve caught staring at me more than once. Shit. Why can’t I get him out of my head? It makes no sense at all, but nothing much does these days.

A knock sounds on my apartment door, and I roll my eyes, climbing up from the couch. “It’s only 7:30, fuckface.” I pull open the door, wearing an amused grin on my face. But it falls when I see Bree standing there with a confused look on hers.

“Fuckface? Really?”

“Hey. Not you.” I stand in my doorway, stunned and staring at my best friend, who looks nervous to be here. Bree. Looks nervous to be at my home. That’s so fucked up.

“Hi.” Her blue eyes glance behind me, then land on my face, and I swear for a moment, my knees feel weak because it seems like forever since we’ve made eye contact.

“What are you doing here?” Shit. I hope that didn’t sound like I don’t want her here. “Not that I want you to leave or anything,” I add quickly. Jesus, fuck. I’ve never been this awkward around Bree.

She gives me a small smile, pushing a loose curl that’s escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. “Are you going to invite me in or are you waiting for the real fuckface?”

Damn, I forgot Grayson will be here in thirty minutes. Do I want Bree to know I’m hanging out with the enemy? Not particularly.

“Yeah, come in.” I move out of the way, letting her by. She walks inside, and her eyes instantly take in my place with interest before she turns back to me. “I like it. Fletch said Blair decorated.”

I laugh at that because I was right. She had a couch sent over but also dishes, a coffee table, a television, and a recliner. Not to mention new bedding, towels, and silverware. “Yeah. She did.”

“She did a great job,” Bree says with a sweet smile, and my heart pangs again. I should have just kissed her. Why can’t I just love her back that way? It would be messy but easier than this.

Wouldn’t it?

“I miss you,” she says, and I stare at her like an idiot.

“I miss you too.”

“Good.” She looks relieved before she shoves my shoulder playfully. “Quit avoiding me.”

“I’m not.” I place my hand on my chest, absently rubbing over my heart. “I thought you wanted space after . . .” I stop myself because . . . awkward . . .

But she laughs, and it instantly reminds me of old times. “After I fucked everything up, confessed my love for you, and tried to kiss you?”

“Jesus, Bree.” I flop down on my couch, and she laughs, following suit and tucking one leg under her, facing me.

“I’m sorry, okay? It was dumb.”

“It wasn’t dumb. Not if that’s the way you felt.” I drag my hand through my hair. “I’m the idiot. It would have been so much easier if . . .”

“If what?” She looks amused but also a little sad. “If you’d have pretended to feel that way for me? Kissed me? Pretended to love me? Who would that have been better for?”

I think about it, frustrated and confused, leaning my head back against the couch. “I don’t know. But everything is so messed up.”

I smile when I feel her finger drag over my cheek slowly and turn to look into her eyes, which hold nothing but comfort and love. “I knew you didn’t feel that way. You never led me on, Rhett. It was stupid. And it’s okay. I don’t want pity love.”

I snort a quick laugh. “You’re far too good for any pity. Ever.” I take her hand in mine and pull them both over my heart. “I’m sorry, Bree. I’m fucked up.”

She shakes her head emphatically. “You aren’t. You’re good. Very good. You just don’t know it, and that breaks my heart.”

I don’t argue with her. It’s an argument I’ve had with everyone I now call family. I don’t know how to explain it to them. Bree, Fletch, and Rhys should get it, but they don’t. They spend so much time telling me how good I am, but I just can’t get past the fact that if I were so damn good, my parents wouldn’t have given me up.

That I can’t just love my best friend the way she deserves to be loved.