So instead I smile and power-walk through New York City.
“Well, I think it’s invigorating,” I say. “All this fresh air. I’m so used to being cooped up and—are you really texting and jogging?”
My energy is high enough that I know she can hear me. And yet, Electra is slowing down and her eyebrows are stitched together in concern.
I slow to a walk so she will too. I need a sip of water anyways. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, it’s just Sean.” She stops completely while she types out a text. “He’s been kind of a lot lately.”
“A lot how?”
I bend out to stretch. Speaking of stretching, these maternity leggings are amazing. Comfy and accommodating. They’re a delicious peppermint pink as well and come with a matching strappy sports bra. Clothes like this almost make me sad that I won’t be pregnant much longer.
That, and I don’t hate having Ransome’s baby inside me…
“He’s just always asking me where I am. Who I’m with. Where I’m going next.” She huffs, her fingers still typing up a storm.
“That seems a little overbearing, don’t you think?”
“Says the girl who’s dating her boss. Same boss who crashed a date by literally yanking you away from the table.”
Then she reads a text that makes her swallow and stops teasing me.
I watch her type her answer with growing concern. I’ve never seen Electra like this. For one, I’ve never seen her in a serious relationship. But also, I’ve never seen her under someone’sthumb. Even when she does keep a guy around for longer than three dates, she always calls the shots.
“Ransome and I are a little… unorthodox,” I admit, and she cuts me off hard.
“Yes, you are. I mean, he got you pregnant and sent you away, for fuck’s sake,” she snaps.
“He didn’t know I was pregnant.”
“And he never checked up on you? For six months?”
She’s getting more and more flustered about whatever this Sean guy is saying. I know it’s not about me, and that making excuses for Ransome is ridiculous on my part, but it still unnerves me.
“You don’t have to jump down my throat.”
“And you don’t have to jump down mine,” she snaps.
Jesus. The venom coming from this girl’s fangs is also not characteristic of Electra, at least not with me. Another red flag.
“Look.” I take a deep, calming breath. “All I’m trying to say is I miss you. I feel like between the time I’ve been away and the time that Sean has you tucked neatly in his back pocket, we hardly see each other anymore.”
“I’m not with him that often,” she says as she types again, her face shifting back to anxiousness.
“That’s kind of what I’m worried about. You barely spend actual time with him, but it’s like he’s in control of everything you do.”
“Again. Repeat that back to yourself.”
I know there’s nothing more that I can say. If I keep pushing, we’ll end up fighting, and I don’t want that. I also don’t want to risk Electra losing the closest friend she has when she might need one the most. So, even if I’m worried sick about her, I back off.
She finally lets out a frustrated huff and shoves the phone into the side pocket of her leggings. Hers are a lavender color, and she’s wearing a hoodie, another thing that’s a little odd for her. Now that I think about it, every one of the recent times we’ve hung out, she’s dressed more modestly.
Another red flag.
My resolution to back off crumbles like a day-old cookie.
“If something is going on, you can tell me,” I tell her softly. “We’re best friends. We should be able to tell each other everything.”
