“Sooooooooo…?” Taylor asks, as soon as I’ve thrown on a sundress and joined her in the living room. “What happened in my absence? Did he pop your cherry?”
“Shhhh!” I tell her. “Very funny. But for your information, no. We weren’t doing that. We actually spent the time fishing.”
“Fishing?”
“Yeah, and it was his idea. There are a bunch of delicious, clean fish waiting to be cooked and eaten.”
“Well, if I had known that, I would have joined you,” Taylor says, scrunching up her nose. “And I wouldn’t have had to waste time walking all around town getting a lot of groceries and giving you guys your privacy.”
“Taylor, I hate to break it to you but there are a lot of things that two people can do one on one that don’t involve sex,” I tell her.
“I know that,” she says, obviously offended. “I just didn’t assume that Wesley Reynolds would be interested in those things.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I tell her. She’s more experienced than I am, but I certainly wasn’t trying to slut shame her or anything. “I’m just equally offended that you think that what I have going on with Wesley is only all about sex.”
“Well, maybe you should look into his past and be sure you know what you’re getting into,” she quickly shoots back.
“What?” I ask her.
“Nothing,” she says. “Never mind.”
“No, seriously, what do you mean?” I demand.
“I’ve just heard some things…”
But then Wesley walks in, saying, “So how about those fish?”
“Yes, let’s get cracking on cooking up those fish that the new champion fisherman caught, shall we?” Taylor says, a fake smile spreading across her face.
“Very funny,” Wesley replies. “Although I was a pretty good fisherman, for it being my first time and all. Isn’t that true, Chelsea?”
“Yes, you were actually—”
But before I can finish saying “pretty impressive,”— while thinking in more ways than one— Taylor cuts back in to shoot a jibe back at Wesley.
“Yeah, I heard all about how Chelsea popped your fishing cherry,” she says. “You were so inexperienced but she guided you through, until you became half competent.”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
Wesley looks at me, as if trying to figure out if she’s joking or meaning to offend him. I shrug, a cringe on my face. I’m really not sure.
We cook the fish on the campfire outside, Wesley holding my hand and Taylor trying to act happy. I’m curious to know what she has heard about Wesley, but I also don’t really care. Or don’t really want to care.
I just want to focus on the here and now: him and me, hand and hand, and I only wish my best friend could be happy for me instead of trying to ruin the moment.
Once the fish are cooked, to my relief, Taylor seems genuinely more content.
“This is some great fish,” she says, begrudgingly, but with a sincere grin. “I guess it’s too late to drive back Wesley back tonight. He can just ride back with us tomorrow.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
I want to hug her, but I also don’t want either of them to see how happy I am that Wesley can stay an additional night.
“Sure,” she says, with a shrug barely visible in the light of the fire. “I wanted some BFF time, but it’s already late, and I can make a sacrifice every now and then, in the name of luuuuuurve.”
“Very funny,” I laugh, shooting a nervous glance in her direction, hoping that Wesley’s not too scared off. “And there’s no reason we can’t all three have fun and hang out together. We can watch a scary movie!”
“Sure, so during the terrifying parts you can jump into Wesley’s arms, and I’ll have no one to comfort me,” she fake pouts.
“You’ll have me!” I tell her. “Jump into my arms!”
“All right, all right,” she acquiesces. “You’re right. It’ll still be fun. Thanks for the fish.”
“Any time, Bestie.”
I know she feels left out— she’s not used to me having a guy around— but I’m glad she’s feeling generous enough to share me with Wesley during what was supposed to be the rest of our BFF lake cabin weekend.
I love having Taylor as my best friend, and I wouldn’t want to lose her over a guy. Even though, as far as I’m concerned anyway, Wesley is turning out to be a pretty amazing one.