Brooke and I finally run into each other at the apartment the day after I go running for Coder’s. Neither of us speak as we make eye contact in passing, but it doesn’t feel like I thought it might. It’s certainly awkward, but the tension between us doesn’t feel so—heavy or painful. For me, I’m too busy trying not to remember what she sounds like when she’s having sex. As for the contrite look she sends my way, I can’t explain it, and she doesn’t. Yet, with both of us needing to head out for class, we don’t broach the elephant in the room.
I haven’t forgotten what she said about me right to my face. It’s still hard to believe that she would be so bold as to cut me so deeply when she’s supposed to be my best friend. As time goes on, I wonder what will happen to us. Before that moment, before this fight, I was sure that as different as we might be from one another, our friendship could survive the test of time and life. I knew there was a chance she’d be upset about Coder, but I didn’t know that it would explode to the extent that it did. She’d barely spent any time with him. She didn’t even know him well enough to figure out that she wasn’t someone he was ever interested in. And as for mystery guy making her scream—I’m not really sure how that happened.
What I do know is that we can’t go the rest of the semester not speaking. So, instead of closing myself into my room to do my homework later that night, I plant myself on the sofa in the hopes that she’ll come home. After what happened yesterday, I have a really good guess as to where she was sleeping on Monday, when I was in the apartment all alone. I don’t know whether to be happy at the prospect that she’s moved on, or worried that she’s spending so much time with a guy I’ve never heard her talk about before.
I check my phone for the time when I hear her insert her key at the front door. It’s almost ten. My heart beats wildly, my anxiety rising when it dawns on me that while I might be out here waiting to see if she’ll actually talk to me, she might be coming home with a guest. I blow out a silent sigh of relief when she comes in alone, her eyes meeting mine as she closes the door behind her.
We stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of us uttering a word. I know that I could say something, and maybe I should, but I don’t want to speak first. I already apologized to her; and as curious as I might be about what’s going on in her life these last few days, I’m not ready to let her off the hook so easily. If she’s not willing to apologize to me, then she’s definitely not the person that I thought she was.
I nod when it becomes clear that she has nothing to say, and then I direct my focus back down at the textbook in my lap. I pretend to read, but I can’t focus. Not now—not with my head buzzing with questions and my heart aching from disappointment. I listen as she locks the door before she heads to the closet to hang up her coat, her heels clicking against the tile in our front entryway. I’m just thinking about putting away my homework and calling Coder when I feel her plop down in the space next to me. Surprised, my head snaps up as I look over at her.
She’s dressed really pretty, her hair done up in a chignon; her wide neck sweater made from some sort of white fabric that glitters under the light; her legs covered in a pair of holey jeans; and her feet tucked into stiletto, brown suede booties. The earrings that hang from her ears are simple but elegant, and the necklace around her neck suits her outfit perfectly. I have no idea where she came from, but I suddenly wish that I did.
“I was a bitch,” she blurts out, her words and her adamant tone causing me to sit up taller. “No—worse. I was a monster.”
I stare into her big, blue eyes, eyes filled with worry and remorse, and I think maybe I’m looking at my best friend.
“You hurt me,” I whisper, not capable of much more.
“I know. I said some really awful things.”
“Really awful, Brooke. To think that you see me—”
“I didn’t mean any of it,” she interrupts, reaching over the take one of my hands in both of hers. “I don’t even—I can’t even—it’s like I wasn’t me for a second. I mean, I was me—but not the me that I am now. I know how to be a bitch. I really do, but I try not to be. And I never, ever, ever meant to be that way with you. I’m so sorry!”
I tug my lower lip between my teeth, gently pulling my hand out of her grasp as I let her words sink in. She’s right. She does know how to be a bitch. I’ve seen it. Now I’ve experienced it—and I’m not so sure I can differentiate between who she is with me and who she is with those she deems worthy of her horrible attitude.
“Brooke, it’s been three days. It’s taken you three days, and I—”
“I’ve wanted to talk to you. I’ve wanted to apologize, but I…” She shakes her head, her gaze falling to her lap where she nervously wrings her fingers. “Things have been—I’ve been going through a lot, and I didn’t know how to apologize. I didn’t know what to say, and we kept missing each other. I just—I’m sorry, okay? There’s been so much that I’ve needed to talk to you about, and I’m going crazy with this rift between us.”
I sigh, reaching up to bury both of my hands in my hair as I try and combat my frustration. Dropping my hands when I’ve gathered my courage, I ask, “How is this all about you? I mean, I get it that I lied to you, and I told you I’m sorry—but if you didn’t mean to say those things—”
“Kenzie!” she exclaims, standing to her feet. “I think I’m falling for Owen.”
My jaw falls open as I gape at her, stunned into silence.
“Saturday night, when Coder must have come here, I was so annoyed that I was missing my chance again. But then Owen was there and he was distracting me, I guess, and then—god, I don’t even know how it happened—but he kissed me, and I kissed him back. And it wasn’t just a kiss. No,” she insists, coughing out a humorless laugh as she begins to pace. “It was a kiss! It was a really great kiss that went on and on and on until I realized—I was kissing Owen! Owen—our Owen! So I promptly stopped kissing Owen and got shit faced. I can’t even remember how I got home. I knew when I woke up, though. I knew Owen brought me back here and tucked me in. He even left some water and pain meds on my nightstand for me to find when morning came.
“Then, while I was freaking out about Owen and that kiss and how good it felt, I ran into Coder. It was all just really bad timing.” Plopping back down onto the cushion next to me, she takes my hand once more and explains, “I wasn’t mad about Coder. I mean, I was surprised and hurt that you would keep that from me, but yelling at you was a distraction. It was a horrible, horrible, hungover mistake. The look on your face—I’ll never forget it. Not ever.”
I suck in a breath, tilting my head to the side as I study her, trying to think of what I can possibly say after all of that. In the end, all I can think of is—“Are you sleeping with Owen?”
She blushes—blushes!—and then nods her head sheepishly.
My jaw falls open again. This time, not so much because I now know who mystery guy is, but because Owen is capable of making Brooke—Brooke Daniels—blush.
As if she can read my mind, she throws her hands up in the air before throwing her body back across the couch as she groans, “I know!” In equally dramatic fashion, she folds an arm across her eyes and says, “Kenz, he’s not just boyfriend material. He’s like forever material. I never, ever thought I’d say that—not about Owen, maybe not about anyone—at least not for another, like, ten years. I’m twenty! I’m not supposed to find my forever guy yet.”
She takes a breath, giving me just enough time to think about Coder. I’m only nineteen—at least I am for two more months—and the thought of ever letting him go is so depressing, I don’t even want to go there.
Does that make him forever material?
“I didn’t mean to sleep with him. That is to say, that wasn’t my intention,” she goes on to explain. “But then it just happened. Again. And again. And again. Fuck, Kenz—I can’t stop thinking about him. I literally cannot. And when we’re together, we can’t keep our hands off of each other.” She props herself up on her elbows, her voice dropping to a whisper as she tells me, “He can make me come, like, five times in one round. It’s like magic. His dick is like magic!”
“Oh,” I cringe, shaking my head at her. “Brooke, no. I don’t—”
Ignoring me, she drops back down onto her back with a sigh. “Tonight, he took me out on a date. He insisted that he was going to do it right—that we weren’t going to have sex, but that we were going to play by my old rules. Three dates. I thought it might be the end of us, you know? Like maybe it was all just physical. But he was amazing tonight. It was like my eyes were suddenly opened and—god, Kenzie…I think I like him. No, I know that I like him. I’m pretty sure I’m falling for him. I feel crazy, I do. It hasn’t even been a week—but as crazy as it might be, I’m loving every minute of it. Every. Single. Fucking. Minute. That means something, right? It’s got to.”
I pull in a deep breath and heave a heavy sigh as I lean back in my seat, trying to process all that Brooke just gushed out. I haven’t seen Owen since he found out about Coder a couple of weeks ago. Suddenly, I miss him a lot. I wish I could give him a big hug right now. I’m proud of him for doing whatever he did to catch Brooke’s attention—finally—and I hope he’s as happy as she seems to be. He’s a great guy, and he deserves it. Brooke does, too. At least, the Brooke that I know and love. The kind, loyal, fun loving best friend that I was afraid I’d lost.
“Dammit,” she huffs, sitting up to face me once more. “Here I am, running my mouth again. You’re dating a really hot guy with an unbelievably sexy tattoo. He’s slept in your bed! And, I’m assuming, you’ve slept in his. Are you two…?”
“Oh, um—not yet. I mean, I’m still a virgin.”
“Not yet? As in, you’re thinking about it?”
Looking down into my lap, I close my textbook, gripping my fingers over the edge as I admit, “Yeah. I’m thinking about it.”
“Wow. Okay. Wow.” I watch as she kicks off her shoes before curling her legs up beside her. She takes my textbook out of my hands and drops it on the floor. I jerk slightly in response to the loud thud it makes as it hits the carpet, and she offers me a pleading look when our eyes meet. “I know I was a bitch before. I’ll say it as many times as you need me to. But right now, I’d really like to talk about this guy that has you thinking about having sex. I get that he’s hot—I mean, I think we both knew that,” she says with a small laugh. “But you’re my Kenz. I just want to make sure—”
“I’m pretty sure that I’m in love with him,” I blurt out before biting my lip to silence myself.
“Holy shit. Okay—this is what happens when we don’t talk to each other. Crazy, big, gigantic things go down. Love? Like, for real?”
I only nod, not trusting that I’ll be able to find the right words to explain all the reasons why.
“Well, all right. So, let’s go over the basics. He treats you well?”
Shaking my head, I tell her, “Better.”
“He respects you?”
I cough out a laugh, shielding my smile as I reach up to tuck some hair behind my ear while I confess, “He thinks I kick ass.”
She chuckles, nudging my knee with her own as she says, “Good. He ought to.” We share a smile, silence settling between us before she continues. “I never would have matched you two together. He just doesn’t look—wholesome. Not saying that’s a bad thing, just saying I never would have guessed you’d ever go for him. Does he even know what the inside of a church looks like?”
My smile fades as I shrug my shoulders. For me, it’s incredibly odd that I’ve let myself fall this hard without having the God conversation. I’m not sure if I did it on purpose, or if the current state of my feelings toward my God is the reason why I find that I don’t care—but I don’t. Looking at Brooke, I admit the honest truth for the first time.
“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but I shake my head at her once more as I go on to explain, “He’s a man. He’s my man. He knows that I believe in God. He knows that I go to church…usually. Whether he believes or not, he accepts me for who I am. He likes me for who I am. I feel the same way about him.
“He’s not wholesome,” I murmur with a small laugh. “But he’s gentle and he’s patient. He’s got family values that I admire, and there’s this quiet, masculine strength about him that makes me feel safe. I respect him for being unapologetically Coder, and for challenging me to be unapologetically Kenzie. I like who I am when I’m with him. Braver. Bolder. More daring. More adventurous. Filled with the courage to ask for what I want and to take it when he gives it to me.”
I shrug, merely hoping that I’m making sense. I go on to say, “I know that a man is not supposed to define you, and he doesn’t. It’s not like that at all. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I’ve been living my life with a single focus. Lately, I’m not even sure if what I’ve been working toward is what I want. But when I’m with Coder, it’s like I don’t need to have the answers. He’s taught me that trying new things can open up your mind to see the world in a whole new way. He sees the world—he sees me in ways I never have before. And the girl he sees, I’m chasing after her. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud, but—”
“No. No, it doesn’t,” Brooke murmurs, reaching over to rest her hand on my leg. “It actually sounds brave. Not to make this about me, but I know exactly what you mean. Being with Owen has forced me to confront things about myself that no one—not even myself—could make me do. Whatever it is that you’re working through, he takes you to that place where you’re vulnerable enough to let him in so he can push you out.” She flashes me a sly smile before she adds, “Owen had to get me naked first, but it seems Coder took the road less traveled. That makes me happy for you. He sounds like a good one.”
Shaking my head with a smile, I tell her, “Better.”
“Okay! It’s official—double date. ASAP.”
Laughing, I reach over and pat her knee as I admit, “He might need a couple weeks. He doesn’t know you as well as I do. His forgiveness might take some time.”
“Right,” she mutters, scrunching her nose at me. “He was there for that, wasn’t he?”
“Yup.”
Relaxing her face, she asks, “What about you and me? Are we okay?”
I stare at her for a second, feeling relieved that we were able to finally talk, and then I offer her a nod.
“Oh, thank god,” she sighs, leaning her head against the back of the couch. “I swear, if we went another day without talking, I was going to die.”
“Yeah, well, I’m starting to think if you don’t tell me about this date, I might die.”
Sitting up straight, she beams at me before she asks, “I’ll tell you about my first if you tell me about yours.”
“Deal.”