Falling for My Best Friend (Fated #1) (2 page)

It started to rain right after I got off the phone with Aiden.
It was one of those unexpected bursts that almost seems to erupt from the
sunshine. I’m sure if I’d been looking at it from indoors, I would’ve found it
quite beautiful.

However, it was hard to see the silver lining once I realized I
would probably be soaked through by the time I got home. On the bright side, I’d
finished the cheesecake so at least I didn’t have to be the pathetic girl
scoffing dessert from a napkin in the rain.

Just as I noticed my shoulders were effectively drenched, I
heard a honk and looked towards the street. A familiar Audi pulled up to the
sidewalk and rolled down the window.

“You sure you don’t want that lift?” Aiden asked.

I ran over to the car and got in. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“And you’re my good deed of the day,” he said.

“Did you come this way cause you knew it was going to rain?”

He shook his head. “No, I came this way cause Chelsea’s cooking tonight,
and I’m in no hurry to get home.”

“What’s she making?”

“I don’t know. Would it be terrible of me to stop for a burger?”

I let my head fall back against the seat. “Yeah, it would. You
can’t do that.”

“Do you remember Mrs. Monrovick?”

“From seventh grade English?” I asked.

“Yup.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Cause last time Chelsea made a one pot wonder, it looked like
her face.”

I shook my head. “That’s fucked up. She was a nice lady.”

“With an oatmeal face.”

I smiled.

“Hey- would you like to come?”

I laughed. “I already ate.”

“I’m sure there’s enough bird food to go around.”

“No thanks. And I don’t think Chelsea would appreciate you
inviting me.”

“She wouldn’t mind.”

“Yes she would. She hates me.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say that. Really. She doesn’t even
try to hide it.” She deliberately calls me by the wrong name every time I see
her even though she knows I’m one of your oldest friends. Surely you’ve noticed
that?

“So tell me about your date,” he said, flicking his turn signal
on.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re just going to make fun of me.”

“I won’t. I swear.”

I sighed. “I don’t even know where to start. Oh no wait- there
is a clear beginning.” I straightened up. “So back in high school, the guy was
robotripping and Jesus came to him-”

“Did you ask what he took cause I might enjoy dinner more if I got
some.”

“No, I didn’t. Sorry,” I said. “But I’m sure it’s something you
can get over the counter.”

“Noted.”

“And let’s see.” I squinted out the windshield. “He lives at
home right now because he’s saving money so he can start his own skateboard
academy.”

Aiden’s thick eyebrows came together. “Is that even a thing?” 

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I suppose I could’ve asked his
parents because they were there.”

He shook his head and checked his mirrors. “No they weren’t.”

“Oh yeah. Both of ‘em. Just watching the date. Super normal.”

“I don’t understand why it didn’t work out.”

I smiled. “I know, right? Actually, I thought he was the perfect
guy until he suggested that the pink streaks in my hair were a cry for help.”

He turned and looked at me. “I think they suit you,” he said,
his eyes smiling. “Better than the green anyway.”

“I’m not saying it’s the craziest Tinder date I’ve gone on, but
it was the first time anyone’s told me I’m perfect the way God made me.”

“Aww,” Aiden said, making a right hand turn. “He sounds sweet.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Among other things,” he added.

I kept my eyes on his forearms as he changed gears, surprised
that they hadn’t shrunk from his rugby playing days. When we were kids, they
were the same size as mine. Now they must’ve been two or three times bigger.

“I don’t know why you put yourself through this shit,” he said.

“It’s just a bit of fun.”

“Is it? It seems like so much effort.”

“Well, compared to having models throw themselves at you, I
suppose it is kind of a hassle.”

“Models don’t throw themselves at me.”

“Really?” I asked. “Who was the last girl you dated that wasn’t a
model?”

“Annie,” he said, turning off his wipers.

“Oh, I forgot about her. The dancer, right?”

“Yeah.”

“But she could’ve modeled.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I saw your sister’s getting married.”

“Facebook?”

“Yeah.” I looked out the window. Everything was wet and
glistening in the sun. “I thought she already married the guy.”

“No, they just had a long engagement.”

“Bet John and Nancy didn’t like that.”

“No, they didn’t,” he said. “My Dad hates to drag out spending
money. He wanted to get the wedding over with as soon as Dave popped the
question.”

“How romantic.”

“I know. Romance means nothing to the guy. All he cares about is
keeping up appearances and being practical.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s so successful.”

“Whatever. He’s a pain in the ass.”

“So when is the wedding finally happening?”

Aiden shrugged, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “End of
the summer or early fall. I’m not sure if they set an exact date yet. I’m sure
someone will let me know.”

“Have your folks met Chelsea?”

“Yeah,” he said. “A few times.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Well, do they like her?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Cause she’s a gold digger. “No reason. Just curious.”

“Her parents went to Yale so that scored big points, and my Mom
was pretty much sold when she started name dropping designers she’d worked
with.”

“So they hit it off?”

“I guess,” he said. “Most people like Chelsea, though, cause
she’s-”

Fake?

“Polished.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I guess I just can’t imagine being described
that way.”

He laughed. “I can’t imagine you being described that way
either.”

“I’m afraid to ask what your parents think of me.”

“When was the last time you saw them?”

“At your Fourth of July party last year.”

“Oh right. When you wore all black.”

“I always wear black.”

“I know. It’s just really obvious on the Fourth of July.”

“Oh.”

“You honestly want to know?”

“Of course.”

“I think they’d be intimidated by you if they hadn’t known you
since you were a kid.”

“What does that mean?”

“They think you’re edgy.”

“I can deal with that.” Beats polished any day.

“I don’t think you’re edgy though.”

“No?”

“I think you’re soft. I think it’s all a façade and you’re
really Rainbow Brite on the inside.”

“You got me. Peel back my skin, and I’m just a pile of gummy
bears.”

“How’s Alex?”

“I didn’t tell you?” I asked.

“Tell me what?”

“He just got dumped. My Dad said he’s not eating or sleeping.”

“What’s he doing then?”

“Writing sad songs alone in his room all day apparently.”

“Maybe something good will come out of it.”

I laughed. “You mean like he’ll be the next Adele?”

“Or Taylor Swift.”

“I like your thinking. I’ll tell my Dad not to worry and to
continue starving him.”

“Good idea.” Aiden pulled up and stopped at a red light a few
blocks from my place. “If my memory serves me, you didn’t really like his ex
much anyway.”

“No, I didn’t,” I said. “I never like any of his girlfriends
though.”

“Or any of mine.”

“That’s not true.” 

“Who was the last girl you liked that I dated?”

“Molly Fox.”

Aiden raised his eyebrows. “I was fifteen.”

I shrugged. “She was nice.”

“She was smart, too.”

“Arguably the last girl you dated that was as smart as you are.”

“Whatever happened to her?” he asked.

“Why? You want to know if she’s modeling?”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he said, smiling straight ahead.

“I think she’s a teacher,” I said, turning towards him just in
time to see his only dimple.

He stuck his bottom lip out and nodded. “Good to know.”

“Anywhere here is fine,” I said.

Aiden pulled into an empty space along the curb.

“Thanks for the ride. I would’ve been totally soaked by the time
I got back here.”

“No worries. I’m glad I was in the neighborhood. Sorry I missed
your initial cry for help.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I leaned forward and grabbed my purse
off the floor.

“Lucy?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really think you’re going to meet someone with that stupid
app?”

I pulled my keys out of my bag. “I meet people all the time with
it.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Who knows the future, Aiden? I’m just trying to be open
minded.”

“Well, I salute you. I think you’ve got a lot of balls putting
yourself out there like that.”

“Thanks.” I got out of the car. “Tell Chelsea I said hi, and
I’ll cross my fingers for your dinner.”

“Please do.”

I closed the door and crossed the sidewalk, turning to wave as I
let myself in and wishing he was right as I watched him drive away.

But he wasn’t.

I didn’t have a lot of balls at all. The truth was I used Tinder
because I was totally gutless, because I wanted to seem normal, and because it
gave me the perfect excuse to never get close to anybody.

“You told me half an hour,” Chelsea said facing the stove.

“Does that mean you don’t want the flowers I got you?” I asked,
laying the bouquet down on the counter.

She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled. “That was nice of
you, babe. Is it our anniversary or something?”

“No, I just thought they might cheer you up. I know you’re anxious
about the casting call you went to today.” And I wanted to apologize in advance
for anything offensive I might say about your cooking.

She stopped stirring the pot and walked around the counter to
give me a hug. “You’re the sweetest, you know that?”

I shrugged and slipped my hands around her waist. “I’m the lucky
one,” I said, going in for a kiss.

“No- don’t,” she said. “I’ve got whitening strips in.”

“Oh. Gotcha.”

“Save it for after dinner.” She pulled away from me and went
back to the stove. “You’ll want to kiss me when you taste this.”

“What is it?”

“It’s called soya,” she said, stirring the pot.

Her bright green thong was poking out the top of her yoga pants
which meant she was trying to channel good luck. She was the only girl I’d ever
met who had certain panties for certain occasions- or at least she was the
first one to admit it to me.

“I’m guessing that’s not a part of the cow I haven’t heard of,”
I said, pulling one of the barstools out from under the high counter.

“No, it’s a protein made from soybeans. It basically takes on
whatever flavor you cook it in.” Her long, blond hair swung back and forth while
she talked.

“And what flavor might that be on this occasion?”

“Tomato.”

Maybe I should’ve gotten that burger. I turned towards the stack
of mail on the counter. I recognized the top envelope as the rent check.
Chelsea used to open it and chip in, not that I needed her to, but she hadn’t
offered in about six months.

And I knew she wasn’t as lucky as I was, that she had to worry
about money. Still, it kind of bothered me that I couldn’t remember the last
time she picked up the tab for something.

“Can you stir this while I go take out my white strips?” she
asked. “I’ll only be two seconds.”

“Sure,” I said, sliding off the barstool and heading for the
stove.

I couldn’t hear Chelsea as she walked down the hall. She was the
only person whose footsteps didn’t make my wooden floors creak, and I was
actually kind of worried about how light she was getting.

I knew she needed to be thin for her job, but as far as I could
tell, she was living on Diet Coke. And a few days ago, she bent over in the
bedroom, and I could see her ribs through her back which really upset me. After
all, I cared about her. I wanted more of her, not less.

I lifted the ladle and took a sip of the broth. The only flavor I
tasted was oregano.

“Are you ready to eat?” she asked, appearing from nowhere.

“Ready when you are,” I said, trying to recall some of the
despicable things I ate when I was drunk as a reminder that I could get
anything down, even soy based oregano broth.

She tipped the saucepan over two bowls. “There’s some sourdough
rolls in the breadbox,” she said. “I thought you might want something for
dippage.”

“That was nice of you,” I said, untying the plastic bag. “Do you
want one?”

She looked at me like I’d asked if she wanted me to slam her
hand in a drawer.

“No, thanks,” she said. “If I ate one of those, I would probably
balloon overnight.”

I couldn’t think of a reasonable response to that so I just retied
the bag and shut it back in the box.

“I left my wallet at Bianca’s so I took some cash out of the jar
to pick up the stuff for dinner.” She walked the bowls over to the table and
set them down. “Hope that’s okay.”

“That’s what it’s there for,” I said. “To prevent soya
emergencies.” I put the rolls on a plate, grabbed the butter dish, and headed
over to the table.

“Bon appetit!” Chelsea said, taking a seat beside me.

“Thanks for going to all this trouble, babe. It’s really nice of
you.”

She shrugged. “I’m a nice person.”

I broke open my fresh roll and sliced a pat of butter off the
end of the stick. I could feel Chelsea watching me as I spread it across the inside.

She licked her lips.

“Are you sure you don’t want a tiny bite?” I asked.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t do that in front of me.”

“You must be joking.” I tore a hunk off. “You watch the Food
Network more than anyone I know.” I popped the bread in my mouth.

She picked up her spoon and turned her eyes back to her bowl.

I decided it was time to make a fuss over her efforts no matter
how grotesque. I dipped my spoon in and watched a piece of soya drift over it.
It looked like soggy little brains, but I tried to imagine that it was a piece
of ground beef and raised the spoon to my mouth.

Much to my surprise, it wasn’t as bad as I expected. In fact, it
actually wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever made. “This is delicious, Chelse.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, one of your best meals yet.”

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks, sweetie.”

I smiled, delighted that it was edible. However, as the soya sludge
was sort of one-note, I was increasingly grateful for the bread.

“How was your day?” she asked between bites.

“Good,” I said. “Can’t say the same for Tommy though. He
dislocated his shoulder again. I think he’s probably a few incidents away from
needing surgery, and it’s a critical time in his career.”

“Do you think this needs more salt? I mean, I was supposed to
use twice this much, but I think it’s fine the way it is, don’t you?”

“Yeah, there’s plenty of salt in here.”

As soon as her phone made a peep she gasped. “Oh my god that
might be my agent about the call today.” She sprang up and ran across the room
to her purse. “Hello?”

I listened and kept eating.

“What?!” she asked. “That’s impossible. I was perfect!... Well,
you being sorry doesn’t fucking fix anything, does it?”

I looked over my shoulder. Her free hand was in a fist at her
side.

“No. No. Of course I did… That’s not the news I wanted.” She sat
on the couch and leaned forward. “I don’t care. Get me in again. Ugghhh! What
do I even pay you for?!”

I put another piece of bread in my mouth and watched as she
walked over to the table by the door, opened her purse, and pulled out her
wallet.

“Her name is Judith… Got that? Okay. Ready? 312-878-2443.” She
threw her wallet back in her bag and turned to look at me, dragging her finger
across her neck like she was ready to slit someone’s throat, probably her
agent’s if I had to guess. “Get me back in or you’re fired.” She put her free
hand on her hip. “Don’t give me that shit. I don’t pay you to be loyal! I pay
you to get me work!”

She ended the call and dropped her phone in her purse.

“What happened, babe?”

She covered her face with her hands and started to cry.

I felt my stomach drop. Chelsea never had a quiet cry. It always
turned into wails of wall shaking emotion. I stood up and walked over to her, put
my arm around her shoulder, and led her back to her chair. By the time she sat
down, the crying had increased in intensity to the point that she was gasping
for breath.

“What happened?” I asked again, pulling my chair up beside hers.

“I didn’t get the job.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sure you’ll get the next one that comes
along. Didn’t you tell me you had another call this week?”

“There is no next job. This was it for me. This was my make or
break moment and I-” She folded her arms on the table and dropped her head.

I didn’t panic because she said that every time. I admired how
much she cared, but her inclination to exaggerate meant she was always one
phone call away from being destroyed. “Don’t be silly.”

She sat up and looked at me with wide eyes. “Don’t you get it? This
is the fifth casting I haven’t got! The fifth!”

“Did your agent say why you didn’t get it?”

Her lip trembled as she nodded.

“And?”

“They said I was-” She gulped for breath. “That I was-”

“What?” I asked. “That you were what?”

“It’s so ridiculous I can’t even say it.”

“Try,” I said.

She blew her breath out slowly.

I was on the edge of my seat.

“Too skinny. They said I was too skinny.”

I couldn’t help but smile. I’d been trying to think of a way to
tell her that for weeks, and I was thrilled someone else had taken the fall for
me. “Well that’s easily fixed,” I said, grabbing my buttered roll and holding
it in front of her.

She swatted my arm, knocking the bread out of my hand.

I turned and watched it roll a dotted line of butter across the
table.

“No, it’s bullshit is what it is! Bianca already told me she got
a callback and her waist is a whole half inch smaller than mine!”

Seeing as how there was nothing I could say to make her feel
better, I decided I might as well bring up the bullshit that was on my mind,
too. “Speaking of Bianca, I thought you said you left your wallet at her
place?”

Chelsea looked at me through red eyes. “What?”

“I thought you said you borrowed money to buy the stuff for
dinner because you didn’t have your wallet?”

She stood up from the table so fast her chair fell backwards
behind her. “How can you even say that right now?! You obviously have no idea
what kind of pressure I’m under!”

“Calm down, Chelsea. Everything is going to be okay.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, but for your information, not
everyone can just walk away from their dreams!”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that just because you blew your chance to be somebody
doesn’t mean it’s too late for me!”

I felt like telling her to get the fuck out.

But it was too late. She’d already stormed down the hall, leaving
me at the table with nothing but another one of her messes to clean up.