THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,192

already starting to show. The lips on that girl. The lips. The first impure thoughts any boy in that school had were centered around her full, perfectly kissable mouth. I’m sure that’s quite a feat for a twelve year old to accomplish, though I can’t speak for all boys.

After she lost the talent competition, I decided to introduce myself in my usual unlikable fashion. She meandered, shoulders back, head up—mind you—out of the cafeteria. I followed her out into the heat, watching the way her hips bounced her backpack back and forth.

I tapped her shoulder. “You really shouldn’t quit your day job, little girl.” Mean, but I kept the smile on my face. Her shoulders slouched forward, but the fierce glint in her eyes forced my feet a step back. This kitten had claws. Sharp ones.

She perched her small hands on her hips. “You shouldn’t speak at all, but who is a little girl to tell you something so truthful?” she sneered. I laughed. The scowl on her face only deepened.

“I like your style. What’s your name? I assume it’s not voice-of-an-angel or four-time-Grammy-winner?” She spun on her heel and ignored me completely. The snub wasn’t something I was accustomed to. Girls liked jerks. Or so I thought.

“I’m Steve,” I called out after her. “I was just joking, you know. You want to be friends?” She stopped walking so I caught up to her quickly. Standing in front of her, I threw my arms out in an “I’m sorry” gesture. “Truce. I’m a good friend. I promise.”

She sighed. “You have a real odd way of making friends, Steven. As for my name, I don’t think you’ve earned the privilege of knowing it. But because you’re the first person to talk to me, and I suppose that means you have balls, I’ll tell you the first letter is M. Goodbye.”

I waved, but she already disappeared in the crowd. “I’ll see you at lunch, M!” Her cat eyes glinted over her shoulder as she looked back in my direction.

She did eat lunch with me that day and pretty much every day after that, and she continued to tell me her name in single letters, one at a time over the course of a week or so. The day we were up to M-O-R-G-A was a good day, as I called her Morga-insert-funny-adjective-here all day. Morga-liscious was the winner, I think. Over the years, I respected our friendship so much that I never took it any further. She dated nice, respectable boys that I wanted to kill, and I man-whored my way around the school while she warned me about virulent diseases and stage five clingers. Granted, I feared her daddy’s shotgun, but I feared losing her friendship even more. She never pushed it either. Maybe she had different reasons, or perhaps they were the same as mine. I never got a chance to find out.

After college, Morganna came out to visit me in San Diego before she started work as an attorney. She stayed at my place, but that changed the second she met Stone. He swooped right in and stole my heart from right underneath me. I could have told him how I really felt. I should have at least told her how I felt, but I didn’t, thinking she would finally break the silence and say something about our pseudo-fucked-up relationship.

Keeping quiet while I watched them date, fall in love, and then marry turned me cold and bitter toward anything that resembled romance or relationships. I vowed to never give a woman enough power to destroy me again. She was mine in a way so deep that it was beyond title, and I was completely wrong. Now that she’s married to Stone our friendship isn’t the same. Because what married woman wants to have sleepovers at her male friend’s house? What husband allows that? What really boils my blood is that I’ve watched the girl grow into a woman and I know everything that makes her tick. Everything that is Morganna, I’ve witnessed firsthand. Her career changed her, and falling in love with Stone changed her even more. The pisser is that I have no one to blame except myself, but I still can’t tamp down the rage the old memories bring.

I shake a computer mouse to wake up the computer and enter multiple security codes to unlock the system. Signing in to my work e-mail, I pull up the last message Morganna wrote to me. It was right after