“When were you going to tell me you got a girlfriend, jerk?” Becky slaps my chest with the back of her hand. Judging by the frown on her face, she's genuinely not happy about the news.

We've been spending a lot of time together this past week. She comes to the gym religiously, and I've even started working out with her when I have free time. It seems like we're slowly developing a real friendship, but it's definitely not replacing what Willow and I had.

I want to tell her the truth. Keeping a lie this big is a bit annoying, but I don't trust that she won't blab to Willow. From what I've heard, they make it a point to get under each other's skin. I'll never understand the cattiness of some women.

“You don't need to know everything about my personal life.” I can't even look at her as I speak.

“That's a pretty big deal. Don't you think she's going to get mad that we hang out together like this?” She tosses herself down on the arm curl machine. Her ponytail bounces, making her appear small and childish.

“This is where I work. It's not like she can complain that I come here.” I sigh.

“But you spend so much time here. It seems like you're always here. She must feel a bit neglected.”

She's not lying. I've been spending an increasingly large amount of time at the gym lately. It seems like all I do these days are eat, workout, sleep, and walk Max. But most of my time is spent in the gym. The only real benefit is that I've been picking up more clients this way. More clients equals more money. Maybe someday I can aspire to treating a girl the way Peter does, not that I think it would make them like me any more.

“If you were my boyfriend, I'd be working you out in another way.” Becky winks at me.

“Is that so?” I chuckle.

“That's so.” She nods decidedly.

I lean against the machine as I watch her do a set. It will only be a little while longer before I'll have to live up to my part of the bargain by taking her on as a free client. At this point, I don't really mind it. She's entertaining, and she keeps my mind off of less pleasant things.

“So what does she look like?” Becky pries.

“She's pretty.” I try to stay vague.

“I figured that much.” She rolls her eyes. “You're not a very descriptive guy, are you?”

“I like to keep my private life private.” I grin at her.

Becky frowns. “I'm admittedly jealous.”

Awkward. I rub the back of my neck. “I'm sorry. I don't know how to make you less jealous.”

“It seems like everyone is dating but me. I'm tired of being alone.” Her gaze falls to the floor.

“Then why don't you date one of those guys that follow you around?”

“I tend to attract losers.” She huffs.

“Well, your throw shit at the wall to see what sticks method definitely isn't going to attract any winners,” I tell her honestly.

“What?” Her mouth falls agape as she looks at me.

I inhale a deep breath. “You flit from guy to guy. You don't give anyone a chance to really get to know you. When you think that a guy isn't interested or that someone better has come along, you move on to the next guy. It's not a very attractive quality.”

“Oh.” She sulks. “Yeah. I don't know why I do that.”

“Well, you should stop. You're never going to land a good guy that way. Because as soon as a good guy sees you flit to someone else, you've lost him.”

“Is that how I lost you?” She locks her gaze with mine, and I feel all kinds of uncomfortable.

“I wasn't ready to date when we met. That's how you lost me.” It's the best I can come up with.

“But when you were ready to date...you never considered me?” There's a flash of hope in her expression. I hate to crush it, but I have to be honest.

“Your flitting really turned me off,” I admit.

“Oh.” She glances away. “Well, that sucks. Looks like I just keep fucking shit up.”

Guilt assaults me, though I don't know why.

“Hey,” I say to get her attention. “You're a beautiful girl. And if you let people actually get to know the real you, you'd have guys lining up for miles. Good guys.”

“Really?” She perks up a bit.

“Really.” I nod.

“But that doesn't solve my loneliness now.” Her eyes soften a bit. “I think I'm ready to date now, too. To seriously date someone.”

“Well, whenever you find that person, I'll be here to support you.” I smile at her.

“Thanks, Caleb. You're a real gem. Your girlfriend is a lucky girl,” she tells me sincerely.

Except that my girlfriend isn't a lucky girl—because she doesn't even exist.

* * *

A few days later, Willow knocks on my apartment door. Apparently, she doesn't understand the concept of we can't hang out anymore, because she seems to be refusing to leave me alone. When I open the door, I can see she's wearing another post-date dress. Thankfully, the idea of her dating my friend doesn't hurt as much as it once did, probably because I've been keeping my distance.

They say that time heals all wounds. This one is healing slowly, but it is healing.

“Have another fancy date?” I lean against the door frame.

She screws her face. “Yeah. He took me to a charity event. I swear those people all walk around with sticks up their asses. I felt like I couldn't speak, and I was under dressed as always.” She glances down at the peach dress she's wearing. It's pretty, but definitely not something most girls would pick to wear to a charity event.

“Don't you have Google?” I quirk an eyebrow.

She glares at me. “I have Google. I just don't have the money to buy a nice dress.”

“I thought you shop at thrift stores.” I narrow my eyes at her.

“They were wiped out.” She sighs.

“All of them? There are at least five around here.”

“Oh.” Willow looks surprised for a moment. “I only know of two.”

“Google.” I point to her. “You should have looked it up on Maps on your phone.”

“I didn't have time.” She hops like a child throwing a mini-tantrum. “I procrastinated until the last minute. Okay?”

“Ah. The truth finally comes out.” I smirk at her.

“Oh, shut it.” She huffs at me.

“So what did you come here for anyway?” I get to the point, realizing that our playful banter is making me feel things again.

She exhales, looking distant for a moment. “Peter wants to play tennis with me this weekend. He always kicks my ass, and I haven't been practicing. I was wondering if you'd like to play a game with me.”

I hum, shaking my head. “No can do. The girlfriend wouldn't approve.”

“Really, Caleb?” Willow cocks her head to the side.

“Really.”

“Are we really going to keep doing this?”

“Keep doing what?”

“Trying to kill our friendship because our stupid significant others don't want us hanging out anymore. It's not like we have to tell them about it.” She shifts her weight, crossing her arms over her chest.

I hadn't known that Peter told her he didn't want us hanging out. That kind of surprises me. It must mean he thinks of me as more of a threat than he let on.

“So are you saying that we should become liars?” I give her a disapproving look.

Willow sulks, her arms dropping to her sides. “Yes. No. I don't know. All I do know is that I don't want our friendship to die because of this.

“It's one game of tennis, Caleb. I'm not asking you to hang out with me all the time.”

She's pleading, and I kind of like that. Because unlike all of the times before, this doesn't feel like it's about Peter. Not really.

“Are you saying that you miss me?” I tease her.

“Will that make you play with me?” She quirks her head back.

“Maybe.” I kick at some dirt on the floor, glancing up at her. I'm so obviously flirting, but I can't seem to stop myself.

“Please don't make me say it.” She plays stubborn.

“I could just go to bed.” I yawn for effect. “It's been a long day.”

“Fine!” Willow stomps her foot. “I miss you, alright.”

“I'll go get my racket. Get changed, and I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen.”

She beams at me, giving me thanks before turning to go back into her apartment to change.

We meet down at the court, and I'm surprised that she hasn't forgotten much of what I taught her. It doesn't take long before she's back into the swing of things. Being down here with her reminds me of old times. Times before Peter came between us. Times when it was just her and I and there were no feelings involved. Less complicated times.

I have to find my way back there somehow if we're going to keep this friendship together.

“Do you play tennis with your girlfriend?” she asks.

“Sometimes,” I lie.

“I never see the two of you down here.” She swings at my serve and misses, cursing under her breath as the ball whizzes past her.

“We play at her complex.” I nod in a random direction.

“Man, I bet the two of you have lots of fun together. I'm honestly not looking forward to playing with Peter. He plays so aggressively.”

“Why do you do things with him that you don't enjoy? I don't really understand it.” I serve the next ball, and she hits it back to me.

“Our relationship is so new. I want to do everything with him, you know.” She places her hands on her knees, panting for half a second before running to hit my return.

“But what about what you like to do?” I try to emphasize that. Because right now I'm seeing a pattern. Their entire relationship revolves around Peter.

“I like being with Peter,” she replies. I'm starting to doubt that's the truth, though, because if it was, she wouldn't complain about their dates so much.