candy
“Why are we here?”
“It’s the soft opening of Santa’s workshop at the brewery. I thought you would wanna be here,” Lola said, pulling into the lot.
“Soft opening,” I muttered, staring at my best friend.
It was Sunday and my only day off for a while with the holidays quickly approaching. I glanced down at my phone, still mulling over the fact that Onyx had called and then texted for the first time in two days.
Two days after kissing me and making me think, believe, he was interested in more. If he’d been into me, he would have called or texted me that very night. Men and their weird games were why I didn’t date.
“You going to text him back?” Lola asked. I glanced away from the screen and looked at my best friend.
“I don’t think I should.”
“Really?” She put her small little hatchback inParkand rested her head on her headrest. “Because I saw you at the end of the night after you two went to breakfast,” she said, as if this was news to me.
“I know you did and?—“
“And?” Her eyes were wide before she started to laugh. “And you looked like you were about to float on air.”
“And then he never called, Lola,” I pointed out seriously. I hated how waiting around to hear from him had felt. Then this afternoon, boom, there it was, a call. Then a text. One I’d left on read. “Not once for two days. He went radio silent. Now he calls? And I’m supposed to what? Jump and be happy because he’s giving me attention? Bend and give in?”
“Maybe he’s been busy?”
“You don’t think I get being busy, Lola? But too busy to text?”
“Maybe he’s not a big texter?” I opened and shut my mouth. “He is older. Maybe he doesn’t know how.” she added. I shook my head.
“My eighty-year-old grandma knows how to text,” I countered, and Lola’s smile faded away.
“I know,” she whispered. “But I just… I saw you. Not just the day you two…”
“Made out? It was just a kiss,” I blatantly lied.
It wasn’t just a kiss.It’d been everything I had ever been too afraid to dream about. The things he’d made me feel with only his mouth and hands had been out of this world.
“Just a kiss, my butt,” she called me out like a best friend would. “I saw you two together, talking and stuff, at the bar?—“
“Where he said I wasn’t his type to some other guy?”
“So he would go away and not hit on you,” she said. “You told me he explained that and you got it.”
“He lied and then let me keep believing it for months.”
“I know. And that wasn’t right. He shouldn’t have done that,” she said, this time softer. “Look, you know I love you, right?”
“Right…”
“And I’m you’re my best friend, and I’m yours.”
“You know you are.” I braced because there was something about the way she was looking at me and sounded that had my guards moving up, and fast.
“So…” She paused, and I stared at her for a moment. “As your best friend who has seen all this unfold, including your little crush on him when we were kids…”
“Oh god!” I rolled my eyes. “I was a kid?—"
“One more chance,” she cut me off. Her hazel eyes pleaded with mine. “Give him one more chance.”
