A small, satisfied smile spread across my face. “My girl,” E said, only for me to hear. I looked at him from the corner of my eye with a small smirk, my heart, elated.
Our game carried on for twenty minutes more. Emma’s eyes stayed locked on us with a hot glare more often than not. I started to hope we would lose just so we could get off the table and out of the spotlight.
“I don’t think your girlfriend likes me,” I said as E was taking his next shot. Our game was coming to its close, and though I was enjoying being with E, I was starting to feel uncomfortable. Like I was somewhere I didn’t belong.
“She likes you enough. Considering,” he said with a shrug, his eyes on the game. He released the ball and it fell into a cup with a swoosh. He moved to the side, giving me space to get in position.
“Considering what?” He took a sip of his beer, avoiding the question, eyes still forward. I turned my head to him. “Considering what, E?”
He tilted his head. “She thinks you and I are more than friends.”
I scoffed. “Where’d she get that idea?” E shrugged. I realigned myself for my shot. “You told her we’re not, right?” He took another sip of his beer, his gaze still elsewhere. I turned my head to him again. “Right?”
He didn’t answer. “E—”
His eyes met mine then. “I told her ‘okay.’”
“‘Okay?’ What does that even mean?” I threw the ball across the table without looking.
“You missed.”
“Oh well.” I turned to face him fully and he did the same. “Why didn’t you tell her that we’re not more than friends?”
His grin was playful, but there was a trace of something else in his eyes. “Because… I don’t lie.” He peered at me over the brim of his cup as he took another sip.
I stared at him a minute, slightly lost, before I rolled my eyes with a stifled grin. “Ever heard of a white lie?”
His lips pulled to one side with a smile. “So you agree?”
I turned to face the table. Aim. Bend. Release. “I agree we were friends.”
“Past tense?”
“Alltense.”
“Mmm.” He shook his head, turning towards the table to take his next shot, a grin still lingering on his lips. “Future hasn’t happened yet. I wouldn’t be so sure.”
I awaited my next turn silently, fighting hard to ignore what E was suggesting, what he intended to mean, and decided it would be wise not to let it cloud my mind. When our game concluded, and Emma found him with a kiss on his lips and took a seat on his lap, it was easy to do.
I left the party soon after our game—in a cab I willingly splurged on. E walked me to his driveway, and gave me the deepest hug, like he’d already missed me though I was still standing in front of him.
“So, start over? Friends again?” he asked, and I nodded with a smile.
But I didn’t want to be friends, and I didn’t want to start over; I wanted to be the more-than-friends he had suggested. I wanted to pick up right where we had left off before everything became messy and ruined. I wanted to be everything I thought we were supposed to be, thought we were made to be. But I realized maybe I was wrong. Maybe we were only ever supposed to be friends, with only the tease ofmorealong the edges. And even if we weren’t—even if weweremeant for more—he was with someone else, and I didn’t have the courage to do anything about it.
“I’m glad you found someone you liked enough to make your girlfriend.” I tried to sound genuine and light, hoping he couldn’t hear the trace of loss within the sentiment.
“Yeah…” was all he said.
I turned to climb into the cab, and he stopped me. “Hey, that boy who’s a friend. What’s his name?”
A surge of nervousness hit my stomach. “Jake,” I answered, one hand on the car door. He smiled.
“Is he nice?”
“Yeah,” I tried to smile, but it didn’t survive the sadness in my tone. “He’s really nice.”
E nodded, placing his hands deep in his pockets. “Maybe you should give him a chance.”
