Or at least, she had until this past summer. I’d missed her like I’d miss my arm if it disappeared the same way. The fact she was talking to me at all after the weekend meant I’d have shown up in a damn clown outfit if she needed me that way.
Four years of knowing her and I’d adored her every single day of it. A truth she’d missed because I’d been too subtle, apparently. She missed it because I hadn’t waved a flag and said “this is a date.” We missed out on a lot because I failed to communicate and she failed to receive.
Nothappening again.
The low-level near constant ache in my chest had grown interminably worse with every single hour that passed where she didn’t answer my messages. The only reason Ihadn’tgone to her apartment was wanting to give her space if she needed it. She didn’t always know how to tell us what she needed, so I had to get better at anticipating.
So when I saw her in the driver’s seat of her dark four door Sedan, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, alarms went off inside of me. Somethingwaswrong. I couldn’t quite read her eyes, but the closer I got to the car, the more I noticed how puffy they were.
Puffy.
Red-rimmed.
She didn’t use cosmetics that frequently, if at all, so she didn’t hide behind layers of concealer. Somethinghurther and I wanted to fix it for her. Right now.
As I opened the passenger side door, I did a double take.
“You dyed your hair,” I said, sitting down and passing her coffee right to her. It wasn’t just a little dyed, either. It was beautifully done, violet strands peeking through the blonde, and it was definitely darker beneath.
I had to fight the urge to turn on the flashlight on my phone to get a better look at it. Even more, I fought the urge to thread my fingers through her hair. Coloring hair was always a bad sign…
Or maybe not.
Had she and Frenchy actually broken up? Pocketing the hope that thought generated, I focused on her and what she needed. Right now, what she needed was to talk to me.
Present and accounted for.
“Yeah,” she said, surprise flashing in the deep green of her eyes and she smiled. The curve of her lips was a bit sheepish, but it was still there. It hit me the way it always did when she smiled, my gut tightened and my pulse sped up. She was the only girl who ever got under my skin.
She’d been there from that first day we met, and she carved out a spot that was Frankie shaped and no one else would ever fill it. Even if someone could, I didn’t want anyone the way I wanted her.
“I like it,” I said.
She wrapped her hands around the white cup like it was a gift from the gods. While it was already in the mid-seventies outside, and promised to be in the upper eighties by the end of the day, there was never a bad time for a hot coffee.
Another flicker of surprise. “Really?”
“Did you think I’d hate it?” I couldn’t resist teasing her, just a little. I closed the door so that the a/c could go back to chasing the humidity out of the car.
“No?” She made it sound more like a question, then took a sip of her coffee. Eyes closed, a moment of bliss crossed her face and it settled some of the disquiet inside of me. Whatever else had happened, that was one thing I’d fixed.
I’d made her morning a bit better.
“It’s still really new, I have a feeling I might get suspended when the teachers see it, but that’s why we did the under layer.” The words came out in a rush. The fact she didn’t sound even a little worried about being suspended set off another alarm bell. Frankie was dedicated with a capital D. She was also a sticklerabout the rules and her grades. Being suspended would have been a fate worse than death before.
What the hell happened that she didn’t sound even a little bothered by the idea now?
“Well, that’s their loss and bad taste,” I commented, keeping it light as I puzzled over what the hell put that look in her eyes.
“You’re only saying that because you brought coffee and want to stay on my good side.”
“A,” I told her dryly. “You don’t have a bad side. And B, I absolutely want to stay on your good side.”
Her laugh was the boon I’d been waiting to hear for three days. It was like a balm to the soul. Goddamn, she just made everything better. The relief spiraling through me folded up my tension like it was paper.
“So,” I said after we both took another drink of the coffee. “You okay?” The question was dumb and precise and everything that I needed to prompt her into telling me why we were here so early. She wasn’t okay. I was kind of hoping she wouldn’t try to tell me she was.
“No,” she said. “I mean—” A pause. A breath. “I’m sort of okay.”
