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The girls insist we eat lunch together.
I wanted to retreat to my room. To hide away and not have to face them, especially not after hearing about Elliot’s date.
But Tally met me outside of my two-hour class with Ethan, glared at him when he started to ask what my plans were, and promptly marched me down the hall like a child.
I love her dearly—love them all. But their overprotective babysitter routine is starting to grate on me.
“Since when are you friends with Ethan Smith?” she asks.
“We’re not friends.”
“He invited you to lunch.”
“Actually, he didn’t because you dragged me off before he could.”
“I did not drag you and anyway, it’s not like you would have said yes. Right?” She casts me a confused look.
“Of course not,” I murmur, a little annoyed that she clearly has issues with a boy like Ethan trying to befriend a girl like me.
“Abi, I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine. I know what you meant.”
A frustrated sigh rolls off her making me bristle. “Look, you can be friends with whoever you want. I’m just saying be careful.”
That has me on high alert.
“Is there something I should know about Ethan?”
“What? No. I just mean, you’re vulnerable right now. I would hate to see someone take advantage of you.”
“It was lunch, not a marriage proposal,” I sneer.
“I’ve upset you.” Guilt coats her voice and I hate that it’s like this now. Me constantly second-guessing their motivations. Them constantly looking at me like they don’t know what to do with me.
“Can we just not do this? It’s hard enough being here without arguing with you.” I go to move past her, but she grabs my arm, drawing my gaze.
“I’m sorry, okay. I’m a fixer. Something goes wrong, I fix it. But I can’t fix this, and it bothers me because I just want to help. I want to make it hurt a little less, Abs.”
The fight leaves me. Tally is a good person. An even better friend.
“Come on,” she says, taking my hand and tugging me toward the cafeteria.
She finds us an empty table near the back of the room and orders me to sit. “What do you fancy?” she asks.
“Something plain. A ham sandwich or some chips.”
“You need something substantial.”
“I’m not that hungry.”
“Abi.” Her eyes plead with me, but I don’t relent. Because if she gets me more it’ll only go to waste.
“Hey.” Liv appears and slides into a chair beside me.
“I’m just about to order. What do you want?”
“Chicken Caesar salad please.” Liv flings her payment card at Tally.
