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"You didn't ruin anything. Logan and I both made our own choices."
"Which you might not have, were it not for me," she said, and I couldn't really argue.
"I guess," I said, not wanting to make her feel worse than she already did.
"I know it is selfish of me, but I would still like to stay in your life if possible. I understand it isn't meant to be with you and Logan and I won't push it anymore. After I ran into you again as a fluke, I just felt like it was fate’s way of telling me I should try to rectify things between not only you and me, but also between you and Logan…”
“But that’s not your problem,” I told her. “Don’t worry about that.”
“I feel like it is my problem,” she mumbled, but didn’t elaborate.
“Listen, Logan always says you worry about everyone else’s happiness but your own. This is a good time to stop that. I’m fine. It’s not your issue to fix.”
“Okay. So we can stay friends, though?”
"I think I can handle that," I joked.
"I'm glad, I really do, you know love you."
"I know and besides, there seems to be some kind of cosmic, magnetic force pushing Logan and me together now, so we really don't need you for that."
"Oh, good, that's a lot of pressure off of me," Kristen said.
It sounded like a joke, but the look on her face looked serious. So I couldn't tell if she was joking or not.
All I could do was hope that Logan and I could work out things between us on our own and that it wouldn’t affect things between Kristen and me. But from past experience, I knew that one of these relationships often affected the other.Chapter Fifteen - KoraI didn't really have the money, but I bought a dress anyway. It just seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up. Frilly and bright pink, it was the ugliest vintage prom dress I could find.
I had gotten a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach when the invitation to the high school reunion had arrived. All embossed and official.
High school hadn't really been the best time in my life. Or, at least the good was mixed in with a whole lot of bad and I didn't think I really needed a reminder of those days. Seeing my old friends and how successful they were now.
Then I realized that there was no reason to take it seriously. I had always figured that it was impossible for something to hurt you if you could laugh at it. So I decided to treat it like the joke it was. Pretending I actually gave a shit.
The whole thing was just as garish as I had feared. The school gym was decked out like every prom and high school reunion set for every cheesy movie ever made. Right down to the huge glass punch bowl, invariably spiked, and clusters of balloons.
It was an effort not to laugh out loud. I tried my best to keep it contained.
"Pretty ridiculous, right?"
I turned and hugged Kristen. She had a similar idea to the one I went with and was wearing the same sort of outfit she had had when we were in school. Both of us seemed to be going for a motif of absurd nostalgia. Hers a bit more literal and personal than mine.
No one got our little joke, acting surprised that Kristen would dress that way when she had the job that she did, and reacting with tight lipped amusement at my own fashion statement. Which also served as a statement of rebellion. How ironic that they were laughing at me for looking like I was stuck in the past when the only reason most of them had come was to gloat about how far they had come since then.
Neither Kristen nor I had brought dates, deciding it was something only we could really understand. So, on the occasions we actually got the nerve to go out onto the dance floor, neither of us being terribly rhythmically gifted, me being more clumsy and her ganglyness not doing Kristen any favors, we danced together during the slow songs.
It was a sight that caused some raised eyebrows and suggestive elbowing from many of the alleged men in attendance, most of them not having matured one iota since graduation.
"Do you think we should kiss? You know, really sell it?" Kristen joked.
"Nah, they might have a heart attack," I said.
"Good point," she agreed, "punch?"
"I don't think there's any reason to resort to violence," I said, pretending not to have understood what she meant.
"Come on," she said, leading me off the dance floor toward the well stocked refreshment table.
"Yep, the punch is definitely spiked," Kristen said, taking another sip.
"Is that why you are on your fifth cup?" I asked.
