Page 82 of True Blue

“It was alright,” I shrugged, coming up behind Indie, folding laundry, and wrapping my arms around her waist. “I missed you, though.”

She wiggled out of my arms and dropped the scrub pants she was folding, reaching for her phone. Tapping a few times, she pulled up the picture my Mom posted of Lily and me.

“You sure?” she huffed. “You seemed cozy with your high school sweetheart.”

“She’s nothing to me, honey⁠—”

She whipped around, blue eyes blazing.

“Then act like it!” she snapped, throwing her hands up. “Say something to your mother for once, Teddy. Defend us, because your mother seems to think I’m just holding the place that belongs to Lily.”

“I’ve tried! She just—” I cut myself off, because Indie stomped around me. A million excuses rise in my throat, and not one of them is worth the breath it would take to say it. Because Indie is right. “I’m sorry, Indie.”

“It’s embarrassing to be tagged in a photo of your mother wishing you and your ex-girlfriend would get back together.”

“That’s all she is—an ex-girlfriend,” I snorted, walking toward her and pulling her into my arms. She resisted for a moment, and I didn’t push, keeping my grip loose enough in case she didn’t want me to hold her. But, like always, Indie slotted into my arms like a puzzle snapping into place. “I don’t want her. I don’t need her. She’s nothing to me, Indie. You’re everything.”

“Pretty words.”

“Truthful words,” I countered, seeing her expression soften slightly. I brushed my nose against hers, and she grinned. “I love you, Indie. I want you, and you only.”

“I love you, Teddy,” she said, her voice too quiet and soft.

And now I hear it for what it was—resignation.

Lily has been an annoyance ever since she came back home.

We grew up together, she lived next door with her Mom, who was best friends with mine. We had lunch together at school, then took the bus home and sat next to each other. We were friends.

The thing is, I had other friends too. The ones my mother didn’t know about because she wouldn’t have approved of the alternative types that liked art and punk and wore black nail polish.

But their lives didn’t fit neatly into her picture of what was acceptable. Nana always encouraged me to spend time with them anyway and covered for me when she had to.

But Lily was the “best friend” I showed to the world, and our mothers adored it. I knew she had a crush on me. Mostly because my Mom wouldn’t stop talking to me about it. She dated other people in high school, but it wouldn’t last long.

Mom always said it was because no other boys could live up to me in her eyes, and that made me feel oddly guilty being responsible for someone else’s happiness.

When we were seventeen, I think I mostly asked her out because I felt boxed in. My mother’s hints, Colleen’s encouraging comments, and Lily’s hopeful looks pressed in from every direction.

And when we kissed, the only word I have for it is wrong.

Not just bad or awkward—wrong.

I never even experienced right until Indie.

Once Indie kissed me, it was like something inside me finally locked into place.

Oh. There you are.

I think the death knell for Lily and me in high school—or maybe just the confirmation I needed—was Pop and Nana.

“Teddy, what are you doing with that girl?” Nana asked after dinner.

Lily had pecked my lips before she left, and I guess I didn’t hide my tense reaction well enough.

“You don’t like her.”

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, my ears burning. “I just don’t want to disappoint, Mom.”