“Now wait a damn minute! Have you guys been texting outside of the group chat?”
I look over to Jack, silently begging for a lifeline. He raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms, looking at me expectantly.
I guess I’m on my own here.
“Just sometimes,” I say with a shrug. “She came over that one Friday when you were both busy. It’s not a big deal. ”
David gasps again, and even Jack’s stoic expression turns into genuine shock. “Funny how you conveniently forgot to mention that for, I don’t know, the last month,” Jack says, looking amused.
“Hang on,” David yells, his tone turning accusatory. “Have you hung out without us more than once?”
I inhale slowly and deeply, trying to buy some time. I knew I’d have to fess up eventually, but I didn’t think it would be today.
“Yeah, we have,” I begrudgingly admit. “A few times actually. Mostly on Sundays when you have family dinner and Jack has his weird routine–recharging his robot batteries so he can be a human the upcoming week or whatever it is he calls it,” I reply, desperately trying to get the conversation off me.
“It’s called being an introvert, jackass,” Jack says coolly. “I need at least one day a week to recharge my social battery after dealing with you morons the other six.”
“Hey, we’re not that bad!” I exclaim in offense.
“I am,” David says with a shrug.
“Thank you, David,” Jack says with a satisfied nod. “Now back to the issue at hand.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I repeat even though my brain feels like it’s trying to stage an escape through my ears.
I’m losing the battle of keeping my voice level. I’m frustrated enough trying to figure out what’s happening between me and Eleanor on my own–I’m going to snap if they hound me about it.
“I’ll put the plans for tonight in the group chat. Can we get out of here now? I would like to end this interrogation and go take a shower.”
I storm to the car, clambering into the backseat and slamming the door in a way that makes it very clear I am done with this discussion.
It doesn’t take long for Jack and David to find something else to yap about, leaving me alone with the doom spiral occupying most of my mind these days.
This is turning into an actual nightmare. At first Eleanor was more of a fun challenge, but now that we’re settling into a real friendship, there’s a sinking feeling in my gut that gets heavier every time we hang out.
This stupid bet is looming over me. I know that David doesn’t see Eleanor as just a bet anymore either. Ifanything, he’s more attached to her than I am. I have never seen him go out of his way for anyone, but he fusses over her the way my mom doted on my baby niece when she was born.
But there’s a nagging feeling that this could still blow up in my face.
I need to find a way to tell her about it that doesn’t make us all look like giant assholes. Or make Jack and David swear that we’ll take it to the grave.
Every time I think I’ve worked up the courage to come clean, something stops me. Either we’re having too much fun to ruin it, or the moment’s too deep to drop a bomb like that. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Or maybe I’m just chickenshit, and I’m scared of losing our friendship.
Or losing something more,I muse, staring out the window of Jack’s Jeep on the drive back to my house. Because if I’m being totally honest–I don’t know if havingjusta friendship with Eleanor is going to be enough for me.
It catches me off guard at the most random times–we’ll be sitting in the hammock in her backyard, and I’ll nearly reach up to tuck a lock behind her ear when the wind tousles her golden cascade of hair.
Golden cascade? Since when do I think poetic shit like that?
I wake up and look forward to seeing her. I make up excuses to text her throughout the day–outside of the group chat,which I guess is a cardinal sin. I lie in bed at night thinking about the way tears run down her face when she laughs hard enough–the way she harmonizes with songs in the car, the way she’s already planning her sixteenth birthday even though it’s six months away, and a thousand other moments that draw me in like a magnet.
Jesus, Griffin, dial back the soliloquies.
Or how I swear that sometimes she looks at me in a way that makes me think maybe she spends a lot of time thinking about me too.
Jack parks in front of my house, him and David continuing an argument I haven’t heard a word of as we walk inside. I head upstairs to shower, and I stand under the showerhead with my face buried in my hands, wondering how I can keep from screwing this up until the water runs cold.
