Yardley

One Week Later

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Griffin answers his door in his Sooners hat, fuzzy pajama bottoms covered in the Batman logo, and a gray t-shirt.

“Stop.” I roll my eyes and pretend to be annoyed.

“Haven’t seen you in, like, a month.”

“It hasn’t even been a week,” I correct him with chattering teeth. It’s freezing out here and he’s going to make me stand outside because he probably thinks it’s hilarious.

“I take it The Boyfriend left town?” he asks.

“Yesterday,” I say. “You going to let me in or what?”

“I guess.” Griff steps aside and I kick my snowy shoes off by the front door. His little brother, Gideon, is lying on his stomach in front of the TV, eyes glued, and a half-eaten bowl of soggy Froot Loops rests beside him.

“Missed you,” I say, giving him a side eye. “Believe it or not.”

“Oh, I fully believe it.” He rests his hands behind his head, wearing a stupid smirk as he takes me in.

“You know, but in a friendly kind of way,” I clarify.

“Keep telling yourself that, Devereaux.” He ambles down the hall toward his room, and I follow. A paused video game is frozen on his TV, and he plops into his beanbag before grabbing his controller.

Typical Saturday at the Gaines house.

I’m sure his parents are still in bed. They like to sleep in on the weekends, but I don’t blame them. They work second shift at Devereaux Wool and Cotton. Dad said he’d transfer them to first shift the next chance he gets, but he doesn’t see any of those first shifters leaving any time soon.

Taking a seat on the edge of his unmade bed, I rest my elbows on my knees and watch him play … which is akin to watching paint dry, but it’s not like I have anything better to do today. And it’s true. I missed him these last several days. I missed his stupid jokes and goofy grin.

“You have a good Christmas?” I ask.

“I guess.” He shrugs, focused on his game for a few moments before pausing it. “Question.”

“Yeah?”

“So … what do you see in him?” His face is pinched and I don’t think he’s kidding around.

“What do you mean?”

“I get that he’s this big basketball player guy and he’s got the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going on, but the dude is, like, intense. And he didn’t smile once. At least not when I was around.”

I so wish Griff could’ve met the real Nevada, the sweet and charming one I fell in love with years ago.

“He knows you kissed me. Of course he’s not going to want to be your best friend.” I shake my head. “And then you showed up at the family dinner. He was blindsided, Griff.”

“Okay. Fair enough. But what else do you like about him? All you ever talk about is how much you love him … but you never say why.”

I’m stumped, truly stumped, but then it comes to me. “Asking me why I love Nev is like asking me what oxygen looks like. I don’t know. I just know it’s there. I feel it. I need it. I can’t live without it.”

“Please.” Griffin glances at the paused game before dragging his hand over his face and releasing a labored breath.

I get it now.

He simply wanted to know what Nev has that he doesn’t.

“You’re lucky,” he says, finally glancing my way again. “I wish … just once in my life … I could experience that crazy, stupid kind of love. That undying, makes-no-sense connection with someone else.”

I slide off the bed and take a seat beside him, resting my hand on his thigh. “You’re only eighteen. There’s plenty of time for you to find someone to fall stupidly in love with.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s in the cards for me,” he says, tucking his chin against his chest.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I smack his arm. “You’re smart. And witty. You can draw better than anyone I know. You’ve got great taste in music. You’re one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. You can sing, you play guitar, you’re a good driver … need me to go on?”

“If I’m so amazing …” he turns to me, his words dissipating into the tense air that separates us. He doesn’t need to finish his sentence anyway. I know what he is getting at. “Yardley …”

His gaze drops to my lips, the very ones Nev claimed less than a day ago, before he climbed into his truck and hit the road. Our miniature winter break got off on a rocky start, but by the second night it was smooth sailing and we’d settled back into our old ways, like no time had passed at all.

“Don’t do it, Griff.” I stand before he has a chance to try to kiss me.

He rises, but it’s too late.

“I have to go,” I say, leaving.

He may be my best friend, but it’s not fair for him to put this on me, to guilt me because I don’t like him like that. And to do it over and over? It’s unfair. It’s unfair to him. To me. To Nev.

“Yardley,” he says my name, standing in his doorway, his hands on the frame. But he doesn’t chase me. He knows better. “Yardley, I’m sorry.” I stop and turn toward him. “I’m an idiot. Seriously. Biggest fucking jackass.”

“Yep.” My hand rests on my left hip.

“I need to tell you something,” he says. The light in his eyes is gone and there’s a slight quiver in his voice. “Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”