As we prepare to leave, Rose places the cat on the sofa, surrounded by a dozen cat toys and two different blankets.
“Ready?” I ask.
She exhales slowly. “Let’s go.”
We get into my car because while Rose is a lot of things, a good driver isn’t one of them, and being distracted makes her worse, and nothing distracts Rose quite like visiting her dad.
Ten miles pass in silence, and then Rose turns to me. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”
“What?”
“The hospital on Friday. I’m sorry I didn’t just pull up my big girl panties and go. I feel like such a jerk.”
Surprise hits me like a hot curling iron to the back of the neck. “Rose. No. It’s no big deal. Honest.”
“I should have been there for you. I told Arlo I wanted to go to that party, and then I brought you into the kitchen to find that hot guy, and then I ditched you when you needed me.”
“You didn’t ditch me. I was fine. I was conscious and barely injured. Please tell me you haven’t been beating yourself up over this all weekend.”
“I just feel so lame.”
“You shouldn’t.” I shake my head to emphasize the point. “It was no big deal, and I know if I had really needed you there, you would have without my asking. This was nothing. A scratch.”
Her breaths are uneven as she sorts through emotions and memories. I can’t guess which one she’s currently wading through when she has more than a year’s worth.
“I’m glad Arlo stayed with you,” she says, dabbing at the inner corners of her eyes.
Selfishly, I’d rather continue talking about her issues and why it’s difficult for Rose to get close to anyone rather than talk about Arlo.
“He’s hot,” she throws out there in traditional Rose fashion.
I clear my throat.
“Don’t pretend like you haven’t noticed. Those eyes. That jaw. His freaking biceps. God, I bet he would be amazing in bed.”
Her words make me feel too warm and flustered as they flip through my thoughts like a stack of freshly developed Polaroid pictures.
“We’re just friends.”
“Friends who want to get into each other’s pants.”
I swing my gaze to her, my eyes stretched with shock and a hint of defensiveness. “I like Matt. I don’t understand why I can’t just hang out with Arlo as a friend? Why does it have to be more?”
“Have you looked at him? There’s no way to be just friends with a guy like Arlo. He’s hot, and funny, and sexy—”
“You’re just friends with Arlo.”
“Because I have hard rules about relationships and we had to work on a school project together. Otherwise, I would have slept with him and kicked him out of my life.”
“You’re negating to admit you’re friends with him and nothing more,” I say again, trying to drive my point home.
“Yes, but that’s because we’ve fully friend-zoned each other. I like him. I respect him, and losing him would suck.”
My heart stutters in my chest, having heard this story in a million romance movies and real-life situations. “So, you’re saying you don’t want to date Arlo because you’re worried it could ruin or damage your friendship?”
“I’m saying I can’t have sex with Arlo because it would damage or ruin our friendship because I don’t do relationships. Rule one.”
“So, you like him?”
“No. No. Definitely not. He’s friend-zoned. My lady boner doesn’t even stand up near him anymore.”
“But, you just said—”
“That he’s hot. He is.”
“You’re confusing me.”
“That’s only because you’re developing feelings for him and don’t want to admit it.”
I scoff. “Friendship feelings.”
“Naked friendship feelings,” she teases.
I glare at her. “I like Matt,” I repeat.
She smirks. “Olivia, I love you. You know I do. But he was kissing someone that wasn’t you. Doesn’t that shake your steadfast devotion to him? Doesn’t it make you wonder if he’s been kissing other girls, but it just hasn’t been photographed? And before you say it again, I know you like Matt, and you guys have a history together, but babe, remember, you’re Guac. You deserve someone who’s going to pay extra for the upgrade, and right now, Matt’s happy with the free salsa.”
I don’t know how to respond. I knew that Rose had opinions about Matt, but she’s never come out and shared them so bluntly.
“Have you looked at his account this morning? Did he post any new pictures?”
I shake my head.
“You didn’t look?”
I glance at her. “Did you? Has he posted more?”
“Olivia, you can’t just not look. Not knowing isn’t the same as something