I want to be so muchmorethan her friend but faced with the possibility of losing her completely or being downgraded to a bestie with no benefits, I’ll take the former any day. It would hurt like hell, knowing I’d never kiss her, hold her again, but at least I’d get to love her up close. I’d get to see her grow and find happiness and success and celebrate every victory with her.
I just want the best for her, even if that means eventually watching her fall in love with another man.
But fuck, the thought hurts…
It burns a scalding path from my core to my throat and back again.
Or maybe that’s the stomach acid.
Fuck. I should have bought some Tums at the bodega along with pretzels and a six-pack of beer, but it’s too late now. I’m at the top of the stairs, opening the door, squinting into the sun as I step out onto the Astroturf to find Jess standing at the brick wall surrounding the roof.
Her back is to me, but I know she’s heard the door open.
Her head turns ever so slightly to the right as she calls, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to jump. It’s safe to approach.”
“I’m more worried about you throwing me over,” I say as I cross the stiff, fake grass. I stop beside her, exhaling a shaky breath. “I’d deserve it.”
“No, you don’t. I’m still mad and hurt, but…” She glances at the bag in my hands. “Looks like more than pretzels in there.”
“I brought some beer, too. And…a surprise. That’s actually why I was at the bodega in the first place.” Setting the bag down at my feet, I pull the small cardboard envelope from inside, every cell in my body praying this was the right call. Passing it over to her, I say, “They’re one of the few places around here that still has a photo printing machine.”
Her brows dart up her forehead and her gaze flicks to meet mine for the first time, granting me a glimpse at the anxiety in her eyes. She’s nervous, too.
Taking that as a sign that hopefully she wants to find a way to make peace between us at least half as much as I do, I add, “It took me a while to find the pictures I wanted, or I would have been here sooner. I had some of them saved in my Dropbox, but some I had to hunt down on that old ‘best friend adventures’ blog we started in eighth grade.”
She blinks faster. “Oh my God, I haven’t thought of that in years. Is it still up online?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not live. One of us must have unpublished it at some point, but I could still log in to the dashboard. I remembered the password.”
“ZeldaAndMario4Ever,” she whispers. “We were such nerds.”
“Yeah. I still am. I mean, you saw the name of my house.”
Her lips quirk. “Yeah, I would have made fun of you for naming your fancy mansion after the kingdom in The Legend of Zelda if I weren’t so pissed at the time.”
Wincing, I say, “I’m sorry. I know I’ve already said that, but I’ll say it a hundred times, a thousand, if it makes a difference. I never meant to hurt you, Jess. I swear I didn’t. I was just—”
“A control freak who thought you knew best?” she asks, cocking her head to one side.
“No.” I sigh. “I mean, yes, Iama control freak, but in this case, it wasn’t coming from a place where I thought I knew best. It was…fear. I was so afraid of fucking this up that I made a bunch of stupid decisions, and my fear became a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
Her expression softens. “I get that.”
“You do?” My heart lifts.
She nods. “I do. I think that’s what happened to me at Brain Chill. I was so afraid of failing that I pushed myself way too hard and waited too long to ask for help. Then I ended up crashing and burning way harder than I would have if I’d just admitted that I was struggling to lead my team and asked for new staff a few weeks in.”
“It’s an easy trap to fall into. Especially when you want something more than you’ve ever wanted anything before.” I almost reach for her hand, but stop myself, sensing that if there’s going to be a first move, she needs to be the one to make it. It’s time to give her control and trust she’ll know what to do with it. So, I settle for saying, “I meant everything I said in New Jersey. You are so important to me. I’d do just about anything for another chance to be the man in your life, but if that’s off the table… Then I just want you to be happy and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen. Even if that means you just want to be friends or…never want to see my face again.”
Pain flashes behind her eyes, making me hope she finds the thought as misery-inducing as I do, but she doesn’t respond right away. She inhales, exhales, and lifts the envelope, opening the cardboard flap to reveal the pictures inside.
A soft, reverent sound escapes her lips as she pulls out the stack of photos, running her fingertips over the faces of the two beaming kids dressed as aliens, with green paint smeared all over their faces. “Oh, wow, Sam. We were so little. I can’t believe we were ever that little.”
“Or green,” I tease. “Whose idea was it to join the Alien Days Beach Parade?”
“Yours, obviously. You’re the UFO freak,” she says, flipping to the next picture with another breathy laugh. “My thirteenth birthday. Dear Lord, I look even more like my mother’s clone. That was before I realized there were brands of khakis that didn’t make your butt look like a sack of potatoes.” She laughs again, pointing to my face. “And your poor little moustache.”
“I thought it was so cool,” I say with a shake of my head. “Used to shave it twice a day on weekends, hoping it would make it grow back thicker. If I’d only known how furry I would be as an adult, I would have relished every hairless day of my childhood.”