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“Poe is right though.” Callie winks. “I don’t think my brother’s going to like you calling someone else hot.”
The color on Wyn’s cheeks grows deeper even as she says, “Well, your brother knows that he’s the only one for me, so.”
Well, he’d better.
Because Wyn has been in love with Callie’s brother — the oldest brother, Conrad; Callie has four older and very hot brothers — for two years now. And he loves her just as much.
Echo leans forward then, addressing Wyn. “Can I please ask you something? I’m dying to ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“Okay, so I had like the biggest crush on Coach Thorne last year,” she divulges. “Is he like, totally romantic? You know, when he’s not glaring at you.”
Coach Thorne, yeah.
He used to be our soccer coach, which means that Wyn and Conrad’s love story was full of hurdles as well.
Wyn chuckles.
No, actually my best friend giggles.
A sound I’ve never heard from her, but it’s adorable just like her.
“I love it when he glares at me,” she confesses, her cheeks pink. “But yeah, he can be totally romantic when he wants to be.”
Echo bites her lips. “Yeah? Oh my God. I’m blushing.” She presses her hands on her cheeks. “Why are athletes so hot though? Especially soccer players.”
“I know,” Wyn agrees. “Like, the other day he’d just come back from practice and he was all sweaty, right? And so he was in the bathroom, taking his t-shirt off and the drops of sweat were rolling down his shoulders and back and I was like, drooling and —”
“Ew. No.” Callie covers her ears. “That’s my brother. I don’t want to hear this.”
Everyone bursts out laughing, teasing Callie and Wyn, asking more questions about Coach Thorne and Reed and Halo, and I know I should participate as well. I should laugh and be merry.
I know that and so I try.
I really do.
But suddenly it becomes impossible and instead of laughter, my tears shake loose and stream down my cheeks. And even though I’m horrified by them, horrified that I’m ruining everyone’s fun, I can’t stop myself.
“Poe,” Callie says, grabbing my shoulder. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Wyn leans toward me as well and squeezes my other shoulder. “What’s going on, Poe? Talk to us.”
I shake my head, hiccupping. “N-nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re crying, Poe,” Callie insists. “You’re definitely not fine.”
“Tell us what happened,” Wyn says. “Please. So we can fix it.”
Their kindness and concern make me cry even more.
Because I missed it. Their undying support and friendship.
I missed being with them. I missed talking to them, their company. And even though I know I’m acting like a moron and ruining everyone’s fun, I can’t help but blurt out, “I love him.”
My declaration is met with silence.
As much silence as you can get in a bar where violins are playing overhead and people are chattering and laughing around us, but still.
Suffice it to say that I’ve shocked them all.
I’ve shocked myself even.
I didn’t know I was going to say that until I did.
“Uh,” Callie begins. “Who?”
Wyn’s eyes widen. “Him? Mr. Mar — Principal Marshall?”
I jerk back. “What?”
Wyn opens and closes her mouth before stumbling. “Well, I just… I mean…”
“No. God, no. What?” I clench my fists on the table, my tears forgotten. “Why would you… What?”
Distress is clear on her face as she leans forward to cover my fists with her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? There’s no excuse. I don’t know why I said that. I’m an idiot.” She squeezes my fists. “It’s just that you said him and my stupid brain just made that connection and damn it, I’m so sorry.”
My heart is racing like a freight train.
A freight train that’s about to crash against something. Something big and potentially deadly.
But it’s fine.
It’s okay. It was an innocent mistake.
So I open my fists and grab her hand, and sighing, I say, “It’s okay. It’s fine. I love you. I should’ve been clearer.” I squeeze her hand then. “But please, never ever say his name, my name and love in the same sentence.”
“Right. Okay. Never,” she agrees, her eyes still slightly remorseful. “I promise.”
With that settled, Callie asks, “So then who is it?”
Well, okay.
So I did plan on telling them tonight.
Mostly because I need their help.
Because my old plan has hit a wall.
Which was amazing, by the way. It was faultless and seamless.
But he’s an asshole who wouldn’t listen.
So now I need a new plan because I’m not giving up. Not so easily.
And for that to happen, I’m going to have to tell them everything. And by everything, I mean every single thing: My mom, my relationship with her, her death. Middlemarch, Jimmy. The only reason I haven’t yet, in all the years we’ve been friends, is because it’s too painful to talk about.
Too jagged and hurtful.
But with a long breath, I do.
I tell them everything.
