More than Friends - Monica Murphy Read Free

“I can see it in your eyes. You’re so oblivious.”
    “I’m oblivious to what exactly?” I can admit I’m in a Tuttle-induced haze. I sat through dinner last night staring off into space, which infuriated my father for some reason. Probably because I wasn’t talking much, and I’m usually the one they beg to shut up. When the family dinner ordeal was finally over, I locked myself away in my room and ransacked my closet, trying to find something cute to wear to school tomorrow. Something to make a certain boy drool…
    But then I remembered it was Homecoming Week, which meant there were themed days where we dressed up. I couldn’t remember what Monday’s theme was and I couldn’t be bothered to look it up or ask anyone, so I chose a pair of my favorite jeans that make my butt look pretty good and a navy blue T-shirt—our school colors are blue and white—with a low V-neck. Maybe Tuttle would stare at my chest when he saw me wearing it.
    I mean Jordan. Jordan might stare at my chest. And that would be awesome.
    “I don’t know how to tell you this,” Livvy says, her voice breaking through my thoughts and reminding me something awful is about to go down. I meet her gaze, noting the sympathetic look she’s sending me. And I also notice her eyes are rimmed with red and her cheeks are blotchy. Like she’s been crying.
    Uh oh.
    “What’s going on?” I ask when she still hasn’t said anything. I don’t like how she’s looking at me. Or the way she’s sniffing. This can’t be good.
    “I figured you’d already seen it.”
    “Seen what?” Now she’s just irritating me, and I think she knows it.
    “Um, can I show you something?” She tilts her head toward the center console where my phone is sitting.
    I almost forgot her mom took her phone away, so I grab mine, enter the password and then hand it to her. This is such a major show of trust, letting her into my phone. Crap, I wouldn’t even let Tara, my ex-best friend, into my phone, and I’d known her forever. But Liv and I have become especially close since school started, and I’m so grateful for her friendship. Without her I’d be lost, and I think she feels exactly the same about me.
    Livvy bends her head, nibbling on her lower lip as she opens the Instagram app and starts scrolling. “My mom didn’t take away my laptop and she forgets I can still text and see Instagram on there.” I glance at the clock on my dash, worried if we sit here for too much longer we’ll be late for first period.
    When she hands me my phone and I stare at the photo she pulled up for me to see, I realize in an instant I don’t care if I’m late for school. My stomach pitches and rolls almost violently, and I slap my hand over my mouth, frightened for a moment that I might throw up all over my lap and my phone.
    It’s a photo of Ryan—Livvy’s boyfriend—and Tuttle, along with Em and a girl I remember Tuttle talking to one night at a party he was having. The one who’s name he couldn’t remember, yet he knew she’d given him a blowjob, which is the epitome of tacky.
    All four of them are close to each other. Em is in Ryan’s lap. Tuttle and the skank are wrapped around each other, all of them smiling at the camera, which I think Em is holding, snapping a selfie to immortalize forever.
    “I think I’m going to be sick,” I mumble, causing Livvy to snatch my phone out of my hands before she’s shoving at my shoulder.
    “Get out of the car! Puke on the lawn! Hurry!”
    Her suggestion is totally valid. I scramble out of the car and bend over, resting my hands on my knees as I wait to throw up my toast and coffee breakfast all over the strip of dying lawn that divides Livvy’s house from her neighbor’s. But nothing comes up and I realize the longer I stare at the yellow lawn, the more unfocused my vision gets.
    God, this is so incredibly disappointing. And that’s the worst thing. I’m furious at myself for actually believing I had a chance with Jordan