Page 33 of Tell It To The Waves

Mrs. Williams didn’t seem thrilled when I called her that next morning. Asking me if I was really going to sell. Her question took me aback. Her friendly voice was no longer. It was curt and annoyed. Which I found odd. I know I’m having to push it back, but she is making money off selling my cottage, and with the asking price going up, so will her percentage.

I’ve been looking at houses in the next town over, but nothing has really caught my eye. But there is one I’m going to look at tomorrow with Baylee.

Slamming my car door, I hoof myself and the groceries through my parking garage and to my elevator. Every time I ride this damn thing, I freak out.

Finally getting into the apartment after dropping a bag, I get a text from Baylee

Be there in forty. I’m so excited!

Doing a little dance.

I am too. I got snacks!

Can’t believe it’s been two weeks; it feels longer. Baylee and I talk every day, either by text or by call. And we are always sending the other reels or TikToks. Sometimes even the same ones. Which makes us crack up, because it shows we don’t watch all the ones we send to the other.

She’s become my routine, and it feels good to have someone to talk to and bounce ideas off. The two things that don’t get brought up are Bohdi and the selling of the cottage. It’s a mutual, unsaid agreement.

Needing to kill time, I scroll Instagram and my stupid fingers go and type in Molly’s name. Not even needing to type all of it, she pops up. This is what happens when you stalk someone.

She has two new posts: one of just her, and the other of her and Bohdi sitting in the backyard of what I assume is her parents' house. Using both my thumbs, I zoom in on the picture, not of her but of Bohdi. Examining him. His smile looks forced, his eyes not crinkling all the way. Looking uninterested. But God, he’s still handsome as hell, even more so now that he’s matured. Letting go of the screen, I go to scroll to the next picture, but tap the like button on my descent, liking the picture. “OH MY GOD!” I scream, scaring Luna. Jumping up off the sofa, I hit the screen again, unliking the picture, but knowing it’s too damn late. She’ll see.

As fast as my stupid fingers can, I exit the app, calling Bay. I hear the phone pick up, not giving her time to say anything. “I just liked Molly’s picture. Bay, I accidentally hit it, but immediately unliked it. It’s too late.” I say fast, needing to get the words out and hoping she can help, even though I know she can’t.

Her cackling hits my ears.

“This isn’t funny, Baylee Westmore. This is a nightmare.” I groan.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Her voice comes closer.

I know she isn’t, because I would have done the same thing if it were her.

Laughing. “You stalking Molly?”

I let my head fall back, looking at the spinning fan. “Turn around and go back home,” I tell her, playing.

The line goes quiet. “Baylee?” My eyebrows raise in confusion.

Her voice comes out softly, “Really?”

And it hits me. “No! Baylee, I’m just kidding with you. No, don’t go home.” I feel like a fucking idiot. “I’m sorry.” And it hits me; my friend has emotional damage from me abandoning her. Which in turn breaks my heart. “Damn it, I’m sorry, Bay.” And I truly hope she can feel how sorry I am through the phone.

“It’s okay,” she says softly, “I’ll be there in about fifteen.”

We both say goodbye and hang up. Me now feeling like a horrible person. Because I am. I’m a shit friend. I’ve given my best friend scars by upping and leaving her. Never reaching out.

And here I was, thinking everything was okay. Of course, it isn’t. She’s going to feel like I’m going to leave her any moment. And that isn’t fair for her. My trust is still broken with her, and that’s something I’ll have to fix. And I hope she sees me trying.

After buzzing Baylee in, I wait in my hallway for her. Her red hair is like a beacon as she exits the elevator, me not realizing how much I missed her these last two weeks.

“Was it easy to find?” I ask her as I reach out for a hug.

“Ugh, I hate the dang one-way roads; I almost went into oncoming traffic. This is why I stay in Driftwood.” She laughs as we pull apart.

“Come on in.”

I watch as Bay stops in the entryway, and I step from behind her, shutting the door. “What?” I ask, confused.

She walks the rest of the way in, turning in a circle in my living room, stopping to face me. Her eyebrows raised, “Did you already pack up?” Her face is confused.