She crosses her hands over her chest, shooting both of us with daggers. She’spissed. But why, though? He’s right. She came by unannounced and tried to change our plans. It’s rude.
“Whatever, Anderson,” she snarls. “I guess just text me whenheleaves, and you can make time for me again.” With that, she turns on her heels, storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Wow, I’m sorry about that, man.”
“Is she like that a lot?”
“No. She’s never acted like that. We hardly even fight. I don’t get what her deal is.”
“She must not like me.”
“Nah, that can’t be it. Why wouldn’t she like you, anyway?”
We pick up where we left off with our movie marathon, spending the rest of the night binging them until we both pass out in his bed around two in the morning.
Chapter Six
Anderson
Crew went home today.
This weekend was so nice, having my best friend by my side, doing the fun shit we used to do as teenagers. It was also the first time in who knows how long that he seemed like his old self again. He was happy and goofy, and soCrew. For years—since he lost his football scholarship—it’s like his light went out. His happy, positive, carefree light burned out.
I was nervous as hell for him to come this weekend, honestly. I’d been a shit friend the last couple of months, ever since that cuddling incident at my house back home. It freaked me out. The way my body reacted. It was unfair to take it out on him, though.
I’m glad we were able to talk about it and move past it at the beginning of his visit, so we could enjoy the whole weekend—which we did.
What the fuck was up with Calina, though? She’s never acted like that. Never lashed out toward anyone. Not in the entire time we’ve been together. Pulling out my phone, I decide to send her a text.
Me: Hey, can I stop by so we can talk?
Calina: Is Crew gone?
Me: Yes.
Calina: Fine.
Me: Okay, I’ll head over now.
What the hell is her deal? Before I can set my phone down, it goes off again. It’s a FaceTime call from Crew. Clicking accept, I walk out the door to start my walk to Calina’s. He comes into view, a big smile plastered on his face.
“What’s up, bro? You make it home?”
“Yeah, I just got here, actually.”
“How was the drive?”
“Not bad. No traffic.” He sets the phone down on something, I’m guessing his dresser, and reaches behind his head, pulling his shirt off. A silver chain that he wears under his clothes comes into view against his tan skin.
“Right on. What’re you doing today?”
“Not shit, man. My parents are still gone. Probably just finish up some homework before class tomorrow. What are you doing? Are you outside?”
“Yeah, bro. Walking to Calina’s. Wanted to talk to her about her little fit she threw yesterday. Where are they at?” Crew’s parents arealwaysgone. It’s been like this for years. They both work very grueling jobs that take up a lot of time, but they travel incessantly too.
“Oh. Uh, cool,” he says, cocking his head to the side and running a hand through his unruly locks. “Fuck, they’re in New York, I think. Some convention for my dad.”
“You know when they’ll be back?”