I leave the offer dangling there. Keegan clenches his jaw. “Why are you this stubborn?”
“I know you mean well, but look at this condo.” I gesture to the hardwood floors and sleek leather furniture. To the stunning view of the lake. “Do you even remember how much you paid to have this place decorated?”
“What's your point?”
“My point is, you don't think about money. You don't have to. So if I let you pick out my dress and pay for it, you'll drop way more money than I'm comfortable with.”
“So?”
“So, then I would bethatperson.”
“What person?”
“The person who takes more from you than she gives.”
He looks at me as if I’m speaking a different language, so I explain further. “You have so many people who just take and take from you and give nothing back. And I refuse to be that person.”
“You could never be that person.”
“Exactly. I can't be that person. The only reason our relationship works is because I don't expect you to spend money on me.”
“That's bullshit. Our relationship works because you're my best friend.” He stalks around the island to my side of the counter. There's something unsettling in his gaze. Impulsively, I down the rest of my latte. “Meg, I—”
I move away from him to put the empty cup in the sink. I feel like I need to say something, but I don't knowwhatto say.
Everything about today has me unsettled. From the events at work—which I still haven't told Keegan about—to the way he kissed me out in the hall—which I know was just for show, but didn'tfeellike it was for show to me—to him asking me to come to this gala with him.
It's all too much. It all feels like I'm hurtling toward some catastrophic change in my life that I have absolutely no control over. And I hate not having control. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, and before I can get them into any sort of order, Keegan is once again at my side, gently turning me to face him. He keeps his hands on my shoulder in a way that I suspect is supposed to be reassuring.
“Meg, please let me do this. I'm asking you for a favor. If I'm gonna drag you to this gala with me, at least let me pay for the dress.”
I search his face, seeing a hint of desperation there. “You don't have to—”
“I know I don't have to. I want to. If you're there with me, I'll be more comfortable. But only if you're comfortable. If that means I buy you a dress and spend money that I won't even miss, then that's a reasonable trade for me.”
It's his use of my given name that does it for me. Keegan has called me Glasses ever since that day I got locked out of my room at the co-op wearing only a towel and—you guessed it—glasses. So if he's pulling out Meg now, then he really is desperate.
I can't let him pay. It's just not in my nature to accept charity from anyone. Not even my best friend.
“Okay, I'll go with you,” I agree, without committing to letting him pay. “But if your mom really is going to help, I truly would rather she look at one of those consignment places. It's more economical, and it's better for the—”
“And it's better for the environment.” Keegan cuts me off, grinning. “Yes, I know. I was the one who got us tickets for that symposium on fast fashion, remember?”
“This is true.”
And, faced with this example of all the times I've dragged Keegan along on weird adventures, I have to admit that I owe it to him. I have to go with him so that he doesn't have to face his family alone. I make a noise that I hope he interprets as excitement.
Who am I kidding? He knows me so well, I'm pretty sure he sees right through me.
Thankfully, he changes the subject. “Hey, how did the meeting go today? Did you ever come up with an idea to pitch?”
“Hmmm, yes.” I can feel my cheeks heating up as I remember the bizarro fantasy that inspired my idea.
He raises his eyebrows and makes a gesture that I should keep talking.
But what can I say? I can't tell him about the idea, not when it started with a fantasy about him kissing me. Not when I'm still so unsettled by him actually kissing me.
So, instead, I ignore his gesture. “We pitch to Butler next week.” I make goofy jazz hands. “Yay.”
