I glance up, forcing a smile, and nod, still trying to shake off the swelling tension in my chest. I stand up and join her, my heart hammering, torn between the safety of what I know I should cherish and the intoxicating pull of something that offers an uncharted territory of the unknown.
As I sway to the music, the flickering lights dancing around me, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to give in—to reach beyond my comfort and my usual rule-following, and do something crazy—what it would be like to kiss him.
I shake my head at the forbidden thought. What is wrong with me?
Liza's already making eyes at Sam across the room as he tunes his bass. "Girl, look at those arms," she whispers, nudging me with her elbow.
I smile, but something in my chest aches. I love my life, my family, our cozy, chaotic home, but sometimes... sometimes I wonder if there's more, if I'm missing something I can't even name.
I'm pouring coffee when Liza stumbles into my kitchen, her mascara smudged beneath her eyes. Her hair's a wild mess, and she's wearing one of Sam's band t-shirts over her jeans from last night. The morning light filtering through the kitchen window makes the dark circles under her eyes even more pronounced.
"Coffee. Need coffee." She slumps into a chair at my kitchen table, dragging her fingers through her tangled hair.
I slide a mug across to her, the ceramic making a soft scraping sound against the wooden tabletop. "Rough night?"
"Amazing night." She grins, wrapping her hands around the steaming cup like it's a lifeline. "Sam has the moves—"
"Please spare me the details." I peek out the window above the sink, my hands still damp from rinsing thecoffee pot. Through the maple's branches, I catch a glimpse of Sam sneaking out the garage door, his collar turned up against the morning chill. "You know he's done this with half the women in Cumberland. I know for a fact he hooked up with that new waitress at Dave’s Diner."
"So?" Liza shrugs, taking a long sip. "I'm not looking to marry him. Not everyone wants the whole domestic package."
"But don't you want..." I trail off, watching a cardinal land on the maple, its red feathers vivid against the dark branches. "Something real?"
"This is real. Real fun." She winks, stretching her legs under the table. "Not everyone needs the white picket fence, honey. Some of us are perfectly happy without the mortgage and the responsibility."
I turn back to face her, leaning against the counter. "How do you do it? Just... disconnect like that? I've never understood."
"Who says I'm disconnecting? I'm living in the moment. Feeling what I feel." She stretches, catlike, her joints popping audibly. "No expectations means no disappointments. It's actually quite liberating."
The cardinal flies away, and I feel a strange emptiness watching it go, like it's taking something with it I can't name. "I could never be that casual about... intimacy. It's always meant something more to me."
"That's because you're a romantic," Liza says, coming over to squeeze my shoulder, the scent of last night's perfume still clinging to her. "You fall in love with love itself. Me? I fall in lust and enjoy the ride. No complications."
I shake my head, amazed at her ability to keep her heart locked away while giving her body so freely. It's like we're speaking different languages when it comes to relationships. Maybe that's why we've stayed friends so long—we're never competing for the same thing.
She shrugs, taking a long sip of coffee. “It’s no problem, really. We’re just having fun.”
I lean against the counter, studying her. “But seriously, I don’t get how you do it. Sleep with guys and not get attached.”
Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she sets her cup down. “Jenna, it’s simple. I don’t let myself get attached in the first place.”
“But don’t you ever... want more?” My voice comes out softer than I intended, betraying the longing I often try to hide.
Liza tilts her head, considering me for a moment before shaking her head slowly. “Not really. Love complicates things too much. It’s easier this way—no expectations, no heartbreak.”
I sigh, turning back to my oatmeal. The idea of detachment feels so foreign to me—like trying toimagine living without air. Love is messy and complicated and often painful, but it’s also what makes life rich and meaningful. It’s what keeps me going through the tough times, the glue holding my frayed edges together.
“Doesn’t it ever get lonely?” I ask quietly, almost afraid of the answer.
She shrugs again, more thoughtfully this time. “Sometimes maybe... but I’ve got friends like you to keep me grounded.” She smiles warmly at me before adding with a wink, “And there are always new adventures around the corner.”
I can’t help but smile back at her easy confidence. Liza lives in a world that feels miles away from mine—full of freedom and spontaneity, where heartache doesn’t seem to exist. Her carefree spirit is both admirable and bewildering to me.
I watch her sip her coffee with that relaxed grin on her face, and part of me envies that ability to float through life without getting weighed down by emotions. It must be liberating, not having to constantly worry about the future or the consequences of falling for someone you shouldn’t fall for.
“Just be careful,” I murmur, my voice laced with genuine concern.
She smiles. “Always am,” she points out. "Honestly, I'm more worried about you than I am about me right now."
