(The Past)

Cambridge, Massachusetts

––––––––

I ROLLED OVER IN BED and looked at the time. Four o'clock in the afternoon.

Shaking my head, I sat up and picked up the empty strawberry cartons Hayley left on my floor the night before. She'd tricked me into another seven-long hour conversation about absolutely nothing, and while the new guys on our tech team wanted me to keep her and her raspy laughter out of the room while they worked, I couldn't do it.

Ever since she'd moved in, I'd made it a point to talk to her for as long she wanted at least twice a week. I'd noticed she often mentioned not having any female friends ("My mom never taught me how to make any..."), and I didn't want her to think she was losing me as a friend just because I was working on a startup with her brother.

Pulling on a T-shirt, I grabbed my laptop and spotted a booklet wrapped in ribbon on my desk. It was addressed to me, from Jonathan. And a gift from Jonathan was never really just a gift.

I picked it up and carried it to the kitchen.

"What the hell is this Jonathan?" I held it up as his eyes met mine. "What reverse psychology experiment are you trying to play today?"

"I'm not running my next experiment until tomorrow," he said, "But good guess."

"So, this is a genuine gift?"

"No, it's a Zen Journal. It's supposed to help you with peace and gratefulness."

"Okay. And you're giving this to me, because why?"

"Because I think whenever we get bigger as Statham Industries, I'll encourage every employee to keep one. You know, create a positive, open company culture and make everyone feel like I care about their thoughts and feelings."

I stared at him. As brilliant as his mind was, sometimes he came up with the stupidest shit.

"Hayley liked the idea."

"Hayley likes everything you do." I rolled my eyes. "Did you present it to any of the other guys on the team? You know, the people who will actually be working with us?"

"See? This is exactly why you need to write in that journal, Corey." He held back a laugh. "Your negative aura is affecting me, and I've lost my appetite."

I tossed the booklet at him. "You have plenty of time to come up with a corporate culture. If you never think of anything else, fine. But I hope you will."

He laughed. "Fine. Will you do me a favor today?"

"No."

He tossed his car keys at me anyway. "Will you take Hayley to the bookstore?"

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because he scares off all of the guys who want to talk to me," Hayley said, stepping into the room. "That, and he's impatient."

"I just don't understand why you need to sit in the bookstore and read twenty pages of a book before deciding if you want to buy it. And you’re too young to date, anyway. You can start when you turn thirty."

"Okay." I shook my head. "I'll take you, Hayley. Give me twenty minutes."

"I'll be in the car!"

I went to my bedroom and grabbed my jacket. I looked around the room for my wallet, pushing away clothes and picking up books.

I was about to ask Hayley and Jonathan if they'd seen it anywhere, but I spotted it next to my trashcan. It was on top of a crumpled pink note I didn't recall writing.

I unfolded it, recognized Hayley's loopy handwriting, but she suddenly snatched it from my hands.

"What the—" I looked at her. "What are you doing?"

"I didn't mean to throw that away in your room. It's pretty personal."

"Since when can't you tell me something pretty personal?"

Her cheeks turned bright red. "This is super personal. It's different."

"How so?"

"It just is." She stuffed the note into her back pocket. "Bookstore?"

"Fine." I hit the lights, and we went out to the car.

We rode in silence for most of the trip, not speaking until we were about five miles away from the store.

"Corey, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Have you made love before?"

"What?" I looked over at her. "What did you say?"

"Have you made love before?"

"No." I rolled my eyes. "If that's the super personal stuff on the note you've written, you were right to keep it to yourself."

She laughed. "It isn't. Every girl in my class is talking about how amazing their boyfriends are in bed, so I just wanted to know if you'd ever done it."

"I've done it," I said, remembering that she'd asked me about sex recently before and I'd definitely told her about it. "But it was just sex. It wasn't making love."

"There's a difference?"

"So, they say." I shrugged. "If it ever happens to me, I'll let you know."

"Can I ask you something else?"

"As long as it's a different topic."

"It is." She smiled. "I'm doing a five-paragraph essay on friendships—not by choice, and I need you to give me your thoughts since I suck in that area."

You don't suck in that area. "Okay, what do you need?"

"Well, for starters, I defined the word friendship, then friend. But I think if you could tell me more about the things that make you and Jonathan so close, I could use that as my real-world example."

"Okay." I parked the car in front of the bookstore. "That's easy."

I told her about how Jonathan and I had the same sense of humor, same professional interests in life, but our differences were what made us better friends. He had a temper, and I was a bit more restrained. He was a guy of "I want what I want, whenever I want," and I was willing to wait to make sure it was worthwhile. Oh, and he was one of few people I trusted with everything, and vice-versa.

"Thanks." She smiled, jotting words down on her notepad. "So, I can quote you as saying that he's the best friend you've ever had?"

No, that would be you. "Absolutely."