Page 52 of Waiting for You

"How was your night?" he asked.

I stared out at the choppy water. "It was fine," I answered. "Andrew doesn't even snore that much."

"Is that supposed to be a shot at me?"

"If the shoe fits."

He had snored. He snored so hard the walls of our tiny apartment used to practically vibrate, and I'd complained about it for months, until somewhere along the way it turned into the rhythm I needed to fall asleep. Eventually there was a long stretch where I got brutal insomnia if I didn't hear it. I did not tell him this.

"Is the lack of snoring the only good thing about the man?" he pressed.

"I'm in the process of getting to know him," I defended. "Discovering the good things takes time. That's how dating works."

"Sure it does," he scoffed. "Takes a lot of time. I wonder sometimes if there's even a point to the performance."

"Did it feel like a pointless performance when you were getting to know Eliza?" I shot back.

He cleared his throat and looked away.

"Why won't you answer the question?" I asked.

"Why'd you drag Eliza into it?"

"Because you brought up Andrew."

He whipped his head around to glare at me. "Are you uncomfortable with the fact that I'm in a committed relationship?"

"Get off your high horse," I snapped. "You're not the only thing on my mind. I've got a long list of things I'm thinking about. Your love life is dead last."

"Okay," he conceded, holding his hands up.

"We agreed on the sidewalk to move past this garbage."

"I'm aware."

"Then why do we keep doing this? Every time we're in the same room, I have to remind you we agreed to be friends."

He flashed a hollow smile at the ocean, the corner of his mouth lifting but the amusement never reaching his eyes. "Then maybe it's time we started acting like it."

"Yes. It is."

"So what do platonic friends do?"

"Friends don't pick apart the person the other one's seeing," I instructed.

"You're right. I won't do it again. It's just hard not to."

I stared at his profile. "There's nothing wrong with Andrew."

He stared at the waves, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

"Are you sitting there hunting for a fatal flaw in him?" I demanded.

"You asked."

"I said there was nothing wrong with him. That wasn't an invitation to launch an investigation."

"I'm just worried about you in a strictly platonic capacity," he lied.