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“Oh, my God,” she says, sitting back and angling her knees toward me. “You’re jealous. Why? Why would you be . . . Ah. Only you’re allowed to have a crush on Rad.”
“You have a crush on Rad?”
She stares at me, her expression kicked into neutral. When she sighs, she faces forward again. The silence is killing me, so I start tugging at a loose thread on my shirt’s hem. Seconds feel torturously long and turn into minutes. I glance out the window, knowing we’ll be approaching Rad’s building soon.
Desperate to get answers and then smooth things over before I have to leave, I ask, “Marlow?”
Her sigh is heavier this time, filled with disappointment, like her eyes when she looks at me. “I don’t have a crush on Rad. I never did, and I don’t now.” The car pulls to the curb.
Her tone is steeped in anger, and she looks away from me again.
Having her mad at me hurts, and I’m not sure I can fix this before costing her a fortune in cab fare. “I’m sorry.” Lifting her chin minutely, she continues to stare ahead. “I think it’s best if I just leave—”
“Yes,” she adds.
I open the door and wade through the quicksand of emotions as I get out of the vehicle. I can’t leave it like this. Turning back, I lower my head. “Marlow, I’m—”
“It doesn’t bother me that you think I have a crush on Rad. He’s the type I usually date—attractive, great body, even better career, and financially well off.”
Though I’m tempted to roll my eyes, I don’t because it will only add fuel to the fire. This time, I keep my mouth shut. She continues, “So it’s not a great leap to assume we’d make a great couple. We’re a match on many levels. But what hurts is you think I’d act on it, knowing how you feel about him.” She grabs the handle of the door and slams it shut.
The cab pulls away, leaving me standing with my jaw on the sidewalk and a spike through my heart.
Marlow is not my enemy, like Kayla. She’s the opposite, my best friend. Of course, she’d never hurt me. I just wish that while they get to go public with their arrangement, I wasn’t stuck hiding the real thing.
Just a few more weeks, I remind myself as I head for the apartment. Why’d I let jealousy get in the way of my friendship? I stop and pull out my phone. Texting Marlow, I type: I’m sorry. I know you’d never hurt me.
The three dots wave across the screen, not coming soon enough. When they disappear, a message replaces them: I appreciate that because I wouldn’t, but I worry that you’re going to be hurt when he starts dating someone seriously. Maybe it’s time for you to start dating again. I know this great guy, an art collector, who could take your mind off Rad. I’ll shoot him a text.
Panicking, I start typing: No.
Me: I’m good.
Me: I don’t need to be set up.
Me: I’m good.
Crap! I already typed that.
Marlow: Too late. He said yes to being your date to the wedding.
Beyond a million reasons I can think of why I don’t need my friends setting me up, everything from I don’t need a man to complete me to dealing with enough life changes at the moment, only one matters most.
Rad.
31
Tealey
A warm shower clears my head but doesn’t wash away my sins.
I’m about to shut off the water when the door opens. I turn to find Rad—shirtless with only his boxer briefs on. “Want some company?”
He makes it hard to say no, but I need to, for me. “Will you hate me if I say no?” I ask, setting the soap down.
“No.”
“No,” I say with a heavy sigh.
“Rough bridal shower? It’s not even five, and you look exhausted.”
“I am. Emotionally.”
Reaching in, he tips my chin up. “Do you want to talk about what’s making you so sad?”
Do I? Do I want to reveal how I got jealous over a relationship that doesn’t even exist? Kind of . . . just to get it off my chest. “Marlow and I got in a fight.”
His eyes jump from my chest to my eyes, losing some of the intimacy we just had. “We should probably wait to talk about that. I have a hard-on looking at my girlfriend naked in the shower. Not something I want to be sporting when we’re talking about our friends. That just feels . . .wrong.”
“Good point,” I say, using one of his favorite phrases as I turn the lever. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
With my hair wrapped in a towel and my most cozy, aka comforting, pj’s on, I walk into the living room where Rad is watching a game. Looking over his shoulder, he says, “I take it today didn’t go well?”
