“I...need to get home.” She looked like she was trembling.
I looked away, blinking back tears. My heart felt like it was ripping apart inside my chest.
“You don’t have anything to say?” I challenged.
She wouldn’t meet my eye now. She bit her lip, and I longed to reach up and tug it free.
“You’re my best friend. . .” She trailed off.
My heart sank with rejection.
I spun on my heel and stomped towards the house. I glanced back, seeing her grab her shoes and flip her phone open, probably calling Owen for a ride home.
That night I packed my bag for California.
I was up earlythe next morning for a surf. I slid into my wetsuit, drowning out everything except my board and the waves. When I was “in my feels,” so to speak, I wasn’t one to lay about idly. My body craved movement, action. I’d always been this way. If I sat still too long, I felt like my restless energy was trying to worm its way out of my body. Surfing was the perfect outlet.
After surfing, I met up with my neighbor Val at Alchemy, the coffee place next to the tattoo shop where she worked. Val was a straight shooter, never pulled any punches. She was also a few years older than me, somewhere between 25 and 30. I felt like maybe I needed her kind of tough love right now to get me out of this funk and help sort through my warring emotions.
I had mentioned Brooke to Val before, though without too many specifics. She knew I was still harboring a hell of an unrequited crush, since high school, when I’d foolishly tried to put myself out there. I caught Val up on my latest attempt to reach out to Brooke. I trusted her to cut through my hopeless feelings and pull me back to reality.
“So she said ‘Don’t call me again’?” Val asked in clarification.
“Not in so many words. She said us talking was confusing. That she didn’t think it was a good idea to stay in touch.” I rubbed the back of my neck. I didn’t realize what a habit I had made of tugging at the waves of hair touching my neck until I’d cut them short.
“She said she’s moved on,” I continued, eyes downcast. I looked up at Val morosely.
“Okay, first, the sad puppy look is cute and all, but you know that voodoo doesn’t work on me. I’m batting for the other team, or whatever analogy you sportsball guys like to make.”
See? No punch-pulling for Val.
“Look, I don’t know the girl,” she continued. “Usually I’m all about female autonomy, no means no, all that good shit. But... it does sound like she’s conflicted. There’s a chance—a chance—you might still have a window. She agreed to dance with you at the reunion?”
“Yeah,” I perked up. “No hesitation or anything. I can read this girl, Val.” I implored her to understand. “I’m not bullshitting. Something is up with her. She doesn’t seem—I don’t know, happy. It’s not like she was always sunshine and rainbows all the time, but I could definitely sense something was going on with her, under the surface. Not to mention that guy she was with...”
I felt my fist begin to clench.
“Okay, calm down, Rambo. Forget the guy. So the guy’s a douche? Not your problem. Either she’ll wise up and break it off, or she’ll marry him for a couple years and get a quickie divorce. You can’t break up the wedding. This isn’t one of those bullshit rom-coms where the hot guy swoops in at the last second and the girl best friend magically calls it off.”
She saw me rear back in shock.
“What?” Val challenged.
“You’veseenthose movies?” I’m sure my eyes were as wide as saucers.
Val shrugged. “I wasn’t always the enlightened, kickass woman you see before you. I had a childhood too, you know.” I tried to imagine Val as a kid, without the facial piercings and dark makeup.
“Right,” I replied, still dumbfounded at this new piece of information.
“So she’s not herself. She lives away from home. Parents not really in the picture?”
I shrugged, uncertain. They hadn’t come up as a topic at the reunion. “Her dad moved away when we were seniors. Her mom... I don’t really know.”
“Hm. It sounds like what Brooke needs is a friend.”
“But how can I be her friend if she won’t let me?”
Val thought for a moment. “She’s close with the roommate, right?”
