“Come on. We can keep each other company.” She pats my left arm.
I shift in my seat, ready to say my goodbye and head into my office, but Tessa’s watching me—bright-eyed, wearing that easy half smile.
“I don’t want to eat alone.”
Neither do I.I can’t tear my eyes away from how her fingers curl around my forearm.
She shrugs one shoulder, her perfume catching the air between us. “Besides, you owe me after yesterday.”
My pulse jumps.Yesterday.Same yesterday I’ve planned to scrub from my brain. Same yesterday that should’ve never happened. I start to protest, but she leans a little closer, lowering her voice enough that I need to lean into her.
“Come on. Don’t you know anything about women?” Her hand lands lightly against my chest. She’s done this before, a hundred times, but her touch feels hotter than it should. “You gotta let us down gently or we go a little crazy.”
I shouldn’t.
“You know what, let’s just split what I’ve got,” I say, stuffing my phone into my pocket.
Her grin widens. “You’re sure?”
This is the Tessa I’ve known forever, checking in on how I feel.
I relax and nod. “It’s all good. She can’t make it anyway.”
I tell myself it’s fine. This is just food. Friends do lunch all the time. Robyn’s best friend’s a guy—they grab coffee, text, and no one thinks twice. This is no different.Well, except Robyn didn’t kiss her best friend last night.I blink away the thought. This is totally fine.
Still, when Tessa’s knee brushes mine under the table, I feel it. When she laughs, head tipped back, eyes shining, I track them. And I hate it. Still,theyeat lunch all the time. There’s nothing there. Nothinghere.
She picks at a roll. “They’re showingTrolls 2, that so-bad-it’s-funny horror movie at midnight this Friday,” she says.
“Hey, that movie’s a cult classic.”
Her laugh sits in her glistening eyes. “We should all go—it’d be hilarious.”
“All?” I echo, though I already know the answer.
“You, me, the whole crew. Maybe Robyn, if she’s not working.” Her smile’s wide, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Robyn’s not working. It’s her first Friday off in weeks. I want to be with her.”
Her smile doesn’t fade, but it does shift, softening at the edges. “Awesome. She should come along.”
“Tessa, no.” I try to keep it even, not sharp. “I want time with just her, you know?”
“You dog!” She smacks my shoulder, then glances down, taking a slow sip from Robyn’s drink. The straw bends slightly, a tiny creak in the silence.
“It’s not that,” I add, quieter now, “Trolls 2isn’t exactly Robyn’s thing. We get little time together as it is. I want her to enjoy it.”
She hums, noncommittal, eyes on the beads of condensation sliding down the plastic cup. Then, with an unbothered tone, she adds, “Well, if plans change…” Her gaze flicks up, meeting mine. “You know where I’ll be.”
When I stand, putting this lunch to an end, I feel lighter. A few weeks after I met her, Tessa and I were raiding her kitchen for snacks when her mom’s voice carried down the hall, sharing that her grandmother had passed. Tessa bolted, tears running down her cheeks, in nothing but a thin long-sleeved T-shirt. She ran to the park and into the bushes behind the playground. I was right behind her, having taken just one extra second to grab my jacket. The heavy snow melted on her skin and hair. It took me thirty minutes to get her to come back inside and another twenty before she stopped shaking long enough to breathe.
It had felt good then, like I’d done something that mattered. I couldn’t make my dad stay, but I could makeherfeel safe. Maybe that’s where it started—this warm feeling I get when I fix what isn’t mine to fix.
So, now, though, telling Tessa no comes easy because Robyn is who I want to spend my time with, every chance I get. No matter how few.
As we cross the street, Tessa mentions that since her new office is so close to mine, we should make this a daily thing—lunch buddies. And she walks ahead of me, hips swaying, with her inner thigh visible through the slit in the back of her skirt.
I hate that I notice. That I can’t seem tonotnotice.
