“You saying she’d turn into a clinging vine?”
“Like ivy growing on the sunny side of a house, pal.” I clap him on the back with a nod.
Honestly, I have no idea if it’s true, but I’m not going to stand by and watch this debacle to find out.
Xavian pales. “I didn’t think about that. It will make the whole group weird if she can’t separate a favor from death-do-us-part.”
“Yep.”
“Is that why you’ve never gone there?”
In all honesty, I never gave hooking up with her a thought. We met as kids. Sure, I noticed when Echo grew boobs and her hips filled out. She’s female, and I’m not blind. But she’s always just been…there. She’s my kind, outdoorsy best friend whom I taught to drive because her workaholic parents were too busy. She’s my soft-spoken hippie-chick sidekick who makes the best French toast on the planet—which is why I can forgive her for puking after too much wine, her Boho-chic vibe, and her love of sappy movies. But she wants the sort of happily-ever-after her sisters both seemingly have. I’m no one’s forever…but I won’t let Xavian rip off her rose-colored glasses.
“More or less,” I reply. “And I’d never want to hurt her.”
“One hundred percent.” X nods like he’s rethinking everything. “You’re right. I hate to disappoint her, but…”
“I’m telling you, man, what’s going to happen if you agree to this.” I shrug with a nonchalance I don’t feel. “But do what’s right for you.”
And I’ll do what’s right for Echo—even if she doesn’t know it.
I already have a plan to ensure Xavian is so busy Friday night, he doesn’t have two minutes to piss, much less pluck my best friend’s V-card.
Echo will be furious if she ever finds out, but I stand by my decision. And I know how to deal with her. Besides, she’s always quick to understand and even quicker to forgive. How bad could it be?
Chapter Two
Friday, May 11
The end of the week finally rolls around. Echo texted me yesterday afternoon with the news that she’d finished her last final of college ever. And she got a ninety-four. I congratulated her and offered to take her to dinner at her favorite seafood place to celebrate.
Echo rarely turns down food, and she never says no to Pescada Fresca.
But last night, she did.
Her refusal bugged the shit out of me. It shouldn’t have—it’s entirely likely she was exhausted after a grueling week of tests—but I spent half the night keyed up and agitated, wondering what the hell is up with her.
I’m still vaguely unsettled as I greet Kella and Graham to watch the last of our matriculating friends officially graduate. Unfortunately, Maryam still isn’t over the flu.
The ceremony is a typical commencement—hours of speeches, unfamiliar names, and a sea of single-colored robes—but finally Xavian Costa and Echo Hope walk across the stage and receive their degrees.
We sneak from our seats, get the fuck out of the domed stadium, and meet the others in the parking lot where we share hugs and hearty congratulations. Kella even gets uncharacteristically emotional and sheds tears, so, of course, soft-hearted Echo joins in, her barely glossed lips tremulous as they hug.
Then she makes her way to Graham, pausing to talk. As usual, he says something that makes her laugh.
“Thanks for coming, man.” Xavian sticks his hand out to me.
I shake it. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Congrats! And next month, you’ll start your big-boy job down the hall from me.”
He laughs. “Fuck you.”
We’ve been friends since joining the same Scout troop as gawky ten-year-olds. He spent a lot of nights at my house because his single mom worked multiple jobs to keep a roof over their heads. His shitbag father—whoever he was—ran out before Xavian was even born. We’re almost as close as brothers.
But all I can think right now is that the motherfucker better have taken a giant step back from Echo.
“So…did you tell her?” I ask in low tones.
“That I’ve got to work tonight? Yeah.”
“What did she say?”
“She understood, but she was disappointed.”
That X isn’t going to teach her the mattress tango? Fuck. If she has actual feelings for Xavian, I need to quash those before he hurts her.
Should I remind her that, during their senior year of high school, he bet Graham and me a hundred bucks that he could sleep with the entire varsity cheerleading squad—and that we all had to pay up a month before graduation? As a teenager, I tipped my hat to him because I’d taken the same bet the year before and only made my way through half the team. As an adult, the wager sounds stupid and sophomoric. Cringy. But if Xavian took that bet today—and he probably would—he’d succeed again.
Honestly, he’s not a bad guy. But he’s dead wrong for Echo.
Still, something made her ask the man whore to be her first. What?