The table is set for two with candles in the middle. Apparently, she’s already setting up house for their romantic night together.
I decide to ignore them and walk toward my room. I hear commotion as I walk down the hallway, but it doesn’t take a genius to know what’s happening. Once I’m in my room, I change into my sweats and a t-shirt. I grab my headphones and plug them into my phone, putting my favorite playlist on repeat. It’s a mix of The Chainsmokers, Boyce Avenue, and Maroon 5, and by the time I get to the third song, I’m angrier with myself than anything.
I’m mad I let myself think this time would be any different. This is Drew’s pattern. Every single time they have a fight and break up, a few weeks pass and they get right back together. I should’ve known, and because I thought otherwise, I’m the one left feeling like an idiot.
Kayla sends me a message and it takes me a few minutes to think of a way to respond.
K: So what’s the verdict?
C: Based off the way they were on the couch and Mia was on top of him, I would guess they’re back together. (Broken heart + knife emoji)
K: SHUT UP!! OMG, I hate them both right now.
C: Join the club.
K: You need to tell him.
C: Why? So the knife can jab into me deeper? He’d end up saying something about how it was a drunken mistake and would make everything between us even more awkward. Forget it, Kay. The bitch won.
K: I can’t believe what I’m hearing, Court. DON’T LET HER WIN! March in there and tell them both what happened!
C: *eye roll* I’m too busy sulking.
I turn my phone on silent and lie back in bed while Adam Levine seduces me with his voice. I have no intention of getting out of this bed for at least the next four hours.
I fall asleep, thankfully sleeping through whatever the hell they were doing in the living room. On the couch. On the same damn couch I sit on.
I cringe.
God, I hope she got her crabs taken care of. I’m not dry-cleaning that sofa cushion.
I decide to email Viola for an update. It’s been awhile since I’ve heard from her and I guess now would be the appropriate time to tell her what’s happened.
To: Viola Fisher
From: Courtney Bishop
Subject: Future Cat Lady
Lola!
I haven’t heard from you in a few days and wanted to check in! I’m sure you’ve been pretty busy so I won’t take it too personal that you haven’t emailed me. But here’s an update on my end: Your brother has severe brain damage. He’s hit it one too many times on the headboard while Mia sits on top of him and cracks her whip while he moans harder…harder…harder.
On that note, your future sister-in-law is back and let’s just say, I’m feeling pretty fucking stupid right about now. Kayla helped me prepare all week for how I was going to approach the subject and what to say and it was all for nothing.
So how was the tour? What house did the Sorting House put you in?
Hufflepuff, right? :)
Did you make it to platform 9 ¾ yet?
Can you tell I miss having you around?
I hope you’re having the time of your life, but come home soon. I need the Selena to my Taylor back.
Love you!
-Court
P.S. Tell Travis he can cancel Drew’s weekly lunch deliveries. They won’t be needed any longer.
As I press send, I frown, thinking of our Friday tradition ending. It’s been something he’s done for me since day one, back when my crush was eighth grade Nick Carter level.
My stomach growls, and I’m going to have to go out there to find something to eat and risk seeing them together again. I should be used to it, but knowing Mia and her love for PDA, means I’ll probably lose my appetite before I even make it to the kitchen.
Just the thought of seeing them together again makes my heart pound harder. It starts to really sink in that I wasn’t even a rebound. We had a drunken one-night stand, one that he doesn’t even remember, and now it means nothing. Absolutely nothing. I’ve slowly been falling for my best friend, and he’s in love with another woman.
And he’ll never know it either.
I bravely walk out into the hallway, bracing myself, but it’s completely quiet. The table is still set for two, and once I get into the kitchen, the grocery bags are still sitting on top of the counter. Knowing Drew, he probably wants to organize it all alphabetically. He has a special kind of OCD where cans and boxes all must be in certain places.
I’ve always enjoyed messing with him. Viola taught me that trick long ago just in case I ever needed to get back at him for something. Too bad this isn’t something I’ll ever come back from. Perhaps moving out is the only option, after all.