Click to Subscribe - By L. M. Augustine Page 0,50

this friend of mine.”

“You mean you’re buying ice cream for other guys?” I say in my fake-dramatic voice.

“PLOT TWIST!!!!”

“You are such a dork.”

“No, no,” she says, shaking her head. “West Ryder, I am wonderful.”

“Well, that may be true,” I say, turning to her, “but you are still a dork. Correction: you are my dork.”

“And you love me for it, right? For being a dork?” she says jokingly, but as soon as the words leave her mouth we both realize what she’s just asked. She stops, holds her breath, and I feel like I’ve been slapped.

“I…” I say, not entirely sure how to respond. She raises her eyebrow. “Um, well, this is awkward,” I finally say.

“I agree,” Cat says, forcing a nervous laugh.

I listen to the hum of cars driving past, the distant chirping of birds in the trees high above. The sky is clear aside from a few clouds, and it feels nice to be outside with Cat again. “So, Cat,” I finally say. “I don’t really know what is going on… with… us… but I do know that whatever happens, I don’t want to lose you. So for now, maybe we could try just staying best friends again?”

I am acutely aware of her eyes on me, studying me. There’s a long silence before she answers. “Friends,” she murmurs as if to test out the word. Then she starts nodding, and says “Friends” again, louder this time, and I know she’s agreed. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she says.

“You always were a terrible liar.”

She narrows her eyes, looking at me with both suspicion and curiosity. “Why do you think I’m lying?”

I smile vaguely. “Your lip,” I say. “It always twitches when you lie. Just a little, but it’s always there. It’s been like that for years.”

She moves closer to me, her side only inches from mine. “You were watching my lips?”

My stomach drops. Oh shit. I was, wasn’t I? I was staring at her lips. It was so natural I didn’t even notice it, but I still was staring at her. Whoa. “Yeah, I mean… no… I mean...” I trail off.

“You’re also a terrible liar,” she says quietly.

“And how do you know that?”

She nods at my cheek. “Your dimples. You always bring out the dimples—or as I like to call them, the Big Guns—when you lie, because you’re so focused on looking normal and smiley and not like you’re lying that you look exactly like you’re lying.”

I whistle to myself. My eyes are on hers. “So we can even tell when the other is lying,” I say quietly. “We’re like an old married couple and we aren’t even a couple.”

“Yeah,” she says, “I guess.” There’s a pause, and we both look at each other, searching for words to say but coming up with nothing. “This is weird, you know. We’re both skirting the whole romance thing, intentionally or not. We can’t keep doing this, can we?” I don’t respond.

“Either we try…” Cat takes a deep breath, hesitates. “…to be more than friends, or we stay best friends.”

“It has to be so black and white?”

“I think so.”

I close my eyes. “I guess… I guess we should stay best friends,” I say. “If we have to choose.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She nods reluctantly. “You’re right. We’ll be badass, ice-cream-eating best friends and forget everything else. Deal?” she asks.

“Deal,” I say, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I’m not sure I mean it.

Chapter 16

I spend the rest of my afternoon in my room, not studying, not working, just staring up at the ceiling and thinking.

Dad approached me on my way up the stairs nearly an hour ago. This time, though, he didn’t glare at me, didn’t scream about what a waste of space I am. He just said, “Hey,” and his eyes were trained on mine, but he looked so suddenly tired, like the stress of the last year had finally hit him. I mumbled “Hey” back and slipped past, because I knew a conversation with Dad would only result in me feeling worse and worse, and I can’t have that again. “Good luck with exams,” Dad mumbled as I raced up the stairs. Then I heard him sigh to himself like he regretted something. He moved back to the kitchen. For more beer, I assumed.

As I lie there, I keep thinking about Cat, about Mom and Dad and our broken family. It shouldn’t hurt this much, but it does. I mean, it’s been a year with Dad how he is,