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My mouth drops and I feel a little betrayed. “Why haven’t you told me?”
A guilty look crosses her face. “You’ve been kind of preoccupied with your anxiety and everything.”
“And? That doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about your boyfriend.” How could she wait two months to tell me about the guy she’s seeing? All because of my stupid anxiety? Since when does that mean I don’t get to do things like normal friends, like talk about a new boyfriend? I don’t know whether to be pissed, feel like a bad friend, or both.
A horrifying thought hits me.
If my best friend feels like she can’t tell me about the important parts of her life because of my anxiety, then what if the same thing happens with Trace? What if he holds back because he doesn’t want to bother me when I’m dealing with so much as it is? That wouldn’t be how it truly is, but he could think so. Rebecca did.
“Brittany!” Rebecca snaps her fingers in my face. “Are you with me?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. Tell me about Dustin.”
It takes all of my concentration to listen to what she’s telling me and to not panic. What if the real reason Trace asked me to leave today was because he didn’t want his rude father to stress me out? What if he thought I couldn’t handle it? I don’t want, nor do I need, for people to start treating me like I’m fragile.
Rebecca ends up leaving to spend more time with her boyfriend. I’m tempted to be lazy, but I don’t want to overthink things more than I already have, so I pull out my textbooks to do homework. I disregard the time limit suggested by Mrs. Rumley. It’s either obsess about my homework or obsess about what’s happened. I’m choosing the more productive option.
Rebecca shoots me a text that she’s staying with her boyfriend tonight. My stomach growls, reminding me that I forgot to eat lunch and dinner. I leave campus for the restaurant with the best fried pickles. Maybe if I stuff my face with them, I’ll feel better.
It’s while I’m there that Trace calls me.
“Hey,” I answer.
“I miss you.”
I laugh. “That bad?”
“No. Things have been fine, actually. It was a little rocky this morning. He explained the reasoning behind his visit, so once he checked in on me, he went back to being himself.”
“So, why did he come?” I pop another fried pickle into my mouth. God, I love these things.
Trace is silent for a bit. Finally, he clears his throat. “The anniversary of my mom’s death is in December. He was worried since I moved across the state, changed jobs, and hadn’t been answering his calls. He didn’t know what was going on, especially once he found out I was dating a college student.”
This is the first time he’s mentioned his mom, aside from the one time he told me she had passed away.
“So, everything is better now?”
“Yeah. I’m taking them to the airport around noon tomorrow.”
“Good.” The waitress drops by to check on me and I let her know that I don’t need anything at the moment.
“Where are you?”
“Out getting dinner. I’m currently eating fried pickles. Jealous?”
“Yep.”
Part of me wants to ask why he really told me to leave. I kind of want to tell him what happened with Rebecca, but I’m scared. I’m worried I’ll find out he’s doing the exact same thing and how I’ll react to that.
“You’re there by yourself?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
There’s a pause. “Everything okay, Britt?”
It shouldn’t, but his question sets off the ticking time bomb. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? I can’t go out to dinner by myself? How else am I going to eat? You’re the one who keeps telling me I need to eat. Well, I can’t eat with someone every single day, Trace. And why do you keep asking me if I’m okay? Do I ask you if you’re okay all the damn time?”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
