“You guys are just so funny!” I make sure to drag out the ‘so’, sarcastically, causing everyone to laugh.
“I’m shocked either of you two knuckleheads even made it past your first day of senior year. But you’re cute, so I guess someone felt bad enough to let you graduate,” Lana says, poking Kings in the chest.
“You think I’m cute, baby?” Kingston says, winking at Lana, she visibly stiffens at his comment. She looks around, and I know she’s searching for her boyfriend. If he were here, that comment wouldn’t fly, but fist would for sure.
We all wait a split second until she comes to the realization that he isn’t here. Once she calms down and goes back to friendly flirting with my brother, I walk around the outskirts of our circle, toward Trey. Making sure I swing my hips slowly. I don’t mean to be a tease, and I know my teasing pales in comparison to his bevy of experienced women. But I’m a glutton for fueling my desire to be wanted by him. He looks me up and down, spending a significant amount of time on my hips. I bite my lip, knowing that even if he would never go for a girl like me, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t like what he sees.
“Come here!” He hauls me into him. Instantly, my nose is hit with the scent that belongs to Trey, some woodsy aftershave that reminds me of a pure, hardworking, male. Almost like he could chop down a tree and build a fire next to the house he just built for me. He places a gentle kiss to my forehead and follows with a benevolent smile. The one he reserves only for me. That kiss fills my stomach with a frenzy of butterflies.
“Thanks for coming, Trey. This means the world to me,” I say.
“I will always be there, you can count on me. Always,” he says, the harsh finality combined with his words stick to my heart where they embed themselves, for always.
“You’re right. You’re always the one who’s there.”
His words seem to hold more of a meaning than I understand, but I know I will never forget them and the comfort they brought to me in this moment.
“Okay, party time at your place, then we spend all day tomorrow packing. Seattle is waiting!” Lana says, cheering and taking off toward the car. I’m more excited than ever for the journey the four of us, and unfortunately, Joel too, will be making together.
Shayla
“THAT’S IT, SHAYLA DONOVAN! I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again,” Lana says, looking up from her spot across the table from me. I throw my head back laughing; she really is my best friend. I mean, she puts up with all my crap. Lana and I have been best friends for thirteen years. We met in elementary school, on the monkey bars. Actually, I was on the ground crying with a bloody nose. Falling off and breaking my nose was a tad traumatic. But it would be that way for any eight-year-old, no doubt.
However, Lana made it easier for me, distracting me from what we now call the ultimate fall. I remember the feel of the grainy sand digging into my palms, leaving little grooves and scratches behind. When I noticed the blood dripping onto my shirt, I started screaming; I was sure I had lost a body part. Luckily, Lana saved the day with a joke, showing her dimples and contagious smile.
She’s had my back ever since then and now we’re both twenty-one-year-old single ladies, living in the heart of Seattle, scraping to get by and doing whatever we can to build up our dream. We, ‘the dynamic duo,’ are now the owners of CC Chic Boutique, located in downtown Seattle. We actually made it happen, we never gave up.
We talked for hours upon hours about opening up our own store and being the most successful ‘bitches,’—Lana’s words not mine—that we could be. That’s her biggest strength, finding laughter when the whole world’s in sorrow. After we opened, it slowly became more than just childhood talk that Lana and I shared. It became us, it became the missing puzzle piece to our lives. We hope to make it bigger one day, but there are always the competitors, always someone better. This will never stop us, especially Lana, she’s the hardheaded one, and I am the soul and emotion. Some would say we are the perfect team, and I don’t disagree.
Starting up this boutique was a getaway from the harsh reality that we left back in Utah. Lana escaping her abusive ex wasn’t just for her. No, it was for me, too. I feared for the life of my best friend every moment she was with him. When he would push her around and leave her to lick her own wounds, I was there. I’m so happy she finally broke free before we moved here. Joel’s plan was to move with us, but after he was arrested for putting Lana in the hospital for three weeks, suffering through multiple injuries, mental exhaustion, and pain, she ended it and we left without him, thank hell. That pig’s behind bars. When he was arrested he had an unregistered gun in his possession as well as drug paraphernalia, landing him five years in prison, since it was his second drug offense. And I couldn’t thank the Lord hard enough.
The first time I saw her smile, after the incident with Joel, was the day we found our location. It’s in the perfect area of downtown, really in the heart of the hustle and grind of city life. Our favorite thing is hearing the conversations of passersby when we leave the doors open on spring days. Even more, we love watching people walk around in fall weather, with leaves changing all around them, running to get to one place or another. The city is always alive, Lana quotes to me daily. Believe me, we live, eat, and breathe this dream.
“L, you are the one that brought it up, I’m not telling Trey that I like him,” I tell her, taking a sip of my wine. We have this conversation every week. The more the wine gets pouring, the more our mouths get to yapping. Trey Adams is the man of my dreams, and I can’t have him. Not only is he my brother’s best friend, he is also way out of my league.
It’s not my looks that make me feel this way, because I’m not ugly by any means. I’m actually what some would call beautiful, and no, I’m not bragging, just simply being honest to society’s standard. I don’t wear too much makeup; my soft ivory complexion and green eyes contrast with my long burgundy hair that falls just below my shoulders. My biggest worry isn’t about not being in his physical league, it’s more so based on our social status, and let’s just say, experience. For as long as Trey and I have been friends, I have known him to be popular, funny, outgoing, you know, the life of the party. Also, he’s been with tons of beautiful, experienced women, not virgins like me. His commitment issues are the icing on the cake. Trey Adams, doesn’t do love.
I find myself behind books laced in poetic words about the beauty of love, setting my expectation far higher than reality. I enjoy clothes, obviously, and I avoid nights out, wild parties, and big crowds. We are two different people from two different worlds.
“I think you are underestimating yourself, Shay. Trey has always been flirtatious with you, I mean what friends cuddle and have zero feelings for each other?” I roll my eyes as she continues. “You guys are best friends. What makes you think he hasn’t thought about something more with you? Shay, I see the way he looks at you. Why would you even think he wouldn’t give you a chance?” she says, eliciting a laugh from me.
She’s on a roll tonight, using legit facts that have me questioning my doubts. I stand and grab the empty bottle of wine and head to the sink. She does have a point, Trey and I have always been a little bit more physical in our friendship, not sexually or anything, but we do cuddle…a lot. “That’s different, we’re best friends, we can do that stuff.”
She scoffs behind me. “You a
nd I don’t cuddle, Shay.”
Turning the water on and making myself busy with cleaning the wine bottle—a useless task, but at least I can create a small diversion while I avoid her prying questions. Hearing the chair scrape across the floor, I listen to the sound of her feet padding across the kitchen and down the hall.
“Whatever, girl, let me know when you grow some lady balls and ask Trey out.” I don’t respond, and I wait for the sound of her bedroom door. Turning back toward the empty room, I place my hands on the counter on either side of me and slide on top. Grabbing my wine, I stare out of the large floor to ceiling windows in our living room. I let my thoughts take me away as my eyes trace over the city lights.
“LET’S GO TO THE tree house, I need a second to breathe.” Looking up from my plate, I meet Trey’s anxious gaze. My mouth is filled with the delicious chocolate birthday cake, so I signal a yes with a curt nod.
Today is Trey’s graduation, and I could tell he hated the attention from distant relatives and all of his stepmother’s extended family. I don’t blame him, getting pecked on the cheek and congratulated by older folks has to be exhausting. Crap, it’s even making me dread the day I graduate.
I try my best to keep up with his long strides, my shorter legs not able to keep up. When he opens the side gate to his house and the noise from the party fades, I watch him take a deep breath and his steps become less hurried.
“You okay, T?” I ask when we hit the sidewalk leading toward my house. We haven’t been back to the tree house since we were a lot younger. We outgrew it, obviously. This only confuses me more as to why he wants to go there of all places, I’m sure my living room would suffice and keep us far enough away from the crowd.