Frenemies Read Free Page A

thought. That was the sort of thing she did, it didn’t mean anything, she couldn’t help herself. I’d spent long hours on the phone assuring Georgia and Amy Lee that
of course
it was annoying that Helen had no boundaries, but that
of course
nothing would
happen
, because even though she drove me crazy most of the time, she and I were
friends.
Having lived directly across the hall from us freshman year and having been less enamored of Helen than I was, Amy Lee and Georgia were understandably skeptical. But they both loved me too much to actually come out and say
I told you so
now.
    “Here’s a shot of Jägermeister,” Amy Lee announced, slapping the shot down in front of me. I blinked, unaware until that moment how far inside my head I’d gone. “I think you should view it as an anesthetic. Numb the pain, sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ and when you go home tonight, you’ll at least never have to face the two of them
for the first time
ever again.”
    I was already feeling blurry around the edges, but I took the shot.
    “Let’s stop staring,” Amy Lee suggested. I realized it wasn’t the first time she’d said it. “Let’s talk about how Georgia’s job is ridiculous. I’ll start. It’s ridiculous.”
    Georgia was a lawyer and, like tonight, was forever traveling for work. When particularly morose—which usually meant she’d over-served herself vodka without the Red Bull—she could sketch the layouts of most major domestic airports on cocktail napkins. This time she was in Cleveland. Or possibly Cincinnati. Somewhere out there in the middle. She had left me several supportive voice mails and a largely profane text message, encouraging me to ignore Nate and remember that Helen wasn’t worth being upset about.
    Though she didn’t use those words.
    With Jägermeister, I decided, that should be no problem whatsoever.
    Later, I felt blurred right through to the core when I ran into Nate outside the bathrooms.
    We stared at each other in the tiny little alcove, festooned with flyers for local bands and supposedly hip postcards.
    For a moment we were completely alone. Helen was nowhere near. I wouldn’t have chosen a noisy bar to finally have a moment to ourselves, but it was the first one we’d had in seventeen days. I couldn’t be choosy.
    But then, with only the slightest lingering glance, Nate slid past me.
    It took another whole breath for me to realize that he actually, seriously,
really
wasn’t planning to speak to me.
    “Are you kidding?” I demanded. “You’re giving me the silent treatment?
You
have the audacity to give
me
the
silent treatment
?”
    “Gus.” Nate sighed and shook his head. His silky brown hair tumbled across his forehead, and he shoved it back with one hand. His voice matched his eyes: sweet, rich chocolate. His hand rose as if he wanted to touch me, then dropped. “You seem so upset.”
    “Weird,” I said through the tightness of my throat. “I wonder why? I guess that obnoxious
single
phone call failed to make me feel better about stuff like you lying to me and—”
    “When you’re calmer, and maybe not as drunk, we can talk,” Nate said. As if he were being generous. “If you want.” As if he were doing me a favor.
    “Or maybe you can go to hell,” I countered, hurt and furious. “How
could
you, Nate? How could you
do
something—”
    I would have kept going. I might even have started to yell. But he reached out and put his hand on my arm.
    I went mute.
    “Gus,” he said fiercely, his eyes darker than usual and sad, too. “You don’t know how much I wish I hadn’t hurt you.”
    “Then why did you?” I had to fight to get the question out, past the emotion clogging my throat.
    “You want things I can’t give,” he said in that same hushed, hard tone, never breaking eye contact. “You’re sweet and smart and funny and … I’m not who you think I am. The thing with Helen just proved that. I’m just not …” He broke off then, and ducked his head.