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“Yo. What’s up?” I squeeze her shoulder softly, giving her my most genuine smile. People pass us by, talking to each other, laughing. Amber shoots me a look, flipping her blonde, straight hair on an eye roll.
“What do you want, Poirier?” Her voice is pointed, like her expression. I look left and right, somehow still freaked out about JoJo seeing us. Even though I know she gets it. She’s the kindest girl I’ve ever met. She felt so guilty about what happened to Amber. Like she had something to do with it somehow.
“To check how you’re doing.” I ignore her snark. “See if you need anything.”
“I need you to stop fucking around and give me attention. That’s what I need.” She juts her chin out, defying me. I scratch the back of my neck, trying to figure out if this is a joke. Throughout the last month, I’ve been her designated bitch. Drove her places. Let her hang out with the boys and me at Barnie’s. Even helped her with her studies. She tried to hit on me countless times, and I blocked it, because even though we shared a fling, I really couldn’t see us doing anything more. So this is unwarranted at best and rude at worst.
“Huh?” I cock my head sideways. She slaps my chest. Hard. I take a step back, looking at her like she drank from the crazy fountain, then ate a big dish of psycho.
“You,” she points at me, her eyes narrowing, “are not focused on what’s important. I just lost our child, Poirier. Do you get what I’m saying? I’m mourning. I’m hurt. I don’t need to see you parading your new piece all over campus, telling people she’s your girlfriend. It’s so disrespectful.”
What. The. Fuck.
I straighten my back, shaking off some of my surprise.
“I really have no idea what in the good fuck you’re talking about, woman. Jolie is not a piece. She’s my childhood friend and we’re dating now. It has nothing to do with me wanting to be there for you. When we hooked up, I said it was for fun. We had fun. The condom broke. Not so fun. Shit happened in-between. Fucking terrible, I know. Now we’re dealing with this. Together. Look, I’m still here for you, yeah? But this has nothing to do with JoJo.”
Her lower lip is shaking. People are starting to stop and look. Stall with their phones. Pretend to mess around with their bags. Shit. It’s becoming a scene, and that’s a problem. I take Amber by the elbow and usher her outside, away from the hall and toward a tree overlooking the entrance of the building. It’s a gray day, and no one is out but us. I lean over her—not too close to give her the wrong idea, but close enough so that she knows that I’m serious.
“Anything you need,” I say, “I’m here for you. I mean it.”
“I need you to leave her.” Amber’s tears are now falling like a flood, and I want to stop them, I do, but I can’t. Not the way she wants me to.
“Amber…”
She throws herself at me, her fists curling around the collar of my jersey. She gets into my face. “Please, Sage. Give us a chance. You’re going away next year. Do you think Jolie will go with you? She’s not the kind of girl to leave her family. I know her type. I’ll do it for you, Sage. I’ll leave this place for you.”
My eyes darken, and my thoughts jumble in my head. So when Amber seeks my warmth, burrowing into me for a hug, I give it to her.
Because I gave her something else without meaning to.
And now she lost it.
Because I need to make this right for her somehow.
And because I’m afraid that she is right about JoJo.
You know the part in the movie where the couple gets together and everything works out and everyone gets their happy ending? Well, this is not what happens in real life. At least not to me.
The day starts with Chelsea informing me that she and Mark are not going to the Christmas charity event in New York because she has a job interview for an au pair position in Canada. The woman is heavily pregnant and looking for a full-time nanny to assist her when the baby is born. Mark is going with her, and they’ll be flying back to spend Christmas with her family right after. They’re moving fast, and I’m happy for them, but at the same time, I wanted so badly to spend time with my best friend in the Big Apple.
Then, I get fired by a text message. Travis, my boss, who apparently has the diplomatic skills of a swordfish, sends me the following message:
Hi, Julie. Trish told me you had a falling out yesterday. I’m going to be completely honest. She’s been with us for a decade now and this could be a problem. I think it’s best for everyone if you just hand in your resignation tomorrow after your shift. Thanks for your service and stuff. – Trav.
