Just Roll With It: a Just Us novel (30 page)

I turn my head to look at him, but a dizzy wave of distortion distracts me and a bubble of laughter pops out of my mouth. I can tell I am sufficiently tipsy now, and I feel the strong need to tell Enz how much he means to me and how much I love him. How I appreciate everything he has ever done for me, but I know mushy talk is such a stereotypical drunk person thing to do. People who get all emotional and shit when they drink annoy the crap out of me and I will not be
that
person.

I watch his red-stained lips and how they move over the straw of his gas station big gulp, the one we decided needed an impromptu modification with a pint of vanilla vodka. I thought it was such a great idea when he suggested it. So here we sit sipping our big gulps and getting as buzzed as we can before heading inside when I decide to do the most stupid thing I have ever done in my life. I kiss him.

The world stopped for that second I leaned up toward him. His eyes go wide the moment he realizes what I'm about to do. I don't give him the chance to stop it or lean away, though. He allows me enough time to feel the soft velvet of his lips pressed against mine before regaining control and gently he grabs my shoulders and pushes me away.

Even now, after what I did, he worries for my sake. Slowly, he removes his hands so he's not touching me in any way. He raises his head at the same time I do, causing our eyes to lock. He studies me, trying to gauge my reaction to predict if an attack is forming. I can't give him the clue he is looking for because right now I am the last person to know what my body is going to do.

I should have paused. Given him the chance to decide for himself whether or not he wanted me to do it. Only lean in part way forcing him to choose to close the gap. But no, I couldn't take the chance. I knew then, and I know now, he wouldn't have.

We both continue to stare at the other, mouths agape and lost for words, for what feels like a life time. In real time, however, it's probably been ten seconds or so.

He speaks first.

"What the hell are you doing, Bee?" He starts off angry but ends in a whisper.

I close my mouth and break down.

"Oh, my god. I am so sorry! I don't know what I was doing. My mind was all over the place and I started to think about how much you've been there for me and I-I don't know. I'm so messed up right now and I'm just so, so sorry."

I'm sobbing so uncontrollably and I'm not even sure how much of my mumbling he was able to make out.

"You … you can't pull a stunt like that, Bee. You don't understand how major shit like that can be!" he scolds.

"I know and I—"

"No, you don't know! If I weren't me … If I were … If I were," he struggles to find the right words. "If I were anybody else, any other guy friend of a girl, the situation could've been devastating. As in, a friendship-ending event. You've seen as many movies as I have and you know friends don't come back from crossing a certain line and it never ends with everything going back to normal."

"I know. I know it was stupid! I didn't even mean it, I swear. I'm just drunk!"

"I know you didn't mean it like that." His eyes turn sad. "And it's for that reason you're lucky I'm me and knew so. But is also the reason you could've screwed up everything!"

"What do you mean?"

"If you would have tried to kiss me … hmm, let’s say two years ago or so, things would be going a lot different right about now."

"Why?"

"I might have kissed you back."

"Oh." My response is lackluster, but it's all I can manage.

"Rigbee, I have always cared for you. You know that, okay. But I didn't always know what I felt for you was so
brotherly
. There was a point when I thought about it. A lot. I would think to myself
what if
I had feelings for you."

"Enz, I—"

"No. Stop. Hear me out first. I never gave you any reason to suspect otherwise because I never even came close to doing anything about it. But, sometimes I … I wondered why? Why did I care so much about a random girl I had only recently met? Why the hell would I care whether or not she had anxiety attacks, or whatever? I didn't' know what it was drawing me to you initially. Once we became friends there were obvious reasons why I cared, you became my best friend. But a few years later I couldn't get the thought out of my head. Why did I care at first? I thought it had to be because I had feelings for you. I didn't have any other explanation."

"You never said anything."

"I know. I didn't want to ruin what we had." He folds his arms and grunts at the irony. "I let it go a long time ago. I met Marty and then I knew I was wrong."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. The way I felt about her and the way I felt about you were—
are
—too different. Then I saw how happy you were with Roman. I thought I would be jealous, but I wasn't. I felt … proud almost. I was happy for you."

"So now we're good?" I shrug and give him my most innocent cute face.

"Yeah, were good, Bee. But let me say, if what you did would have happened before, back when I was confused, I'm not so sure I could have kept being your friend. Let alone best friend. Do you understand the significance of the situation now?"

After a few more minutes of uncomfortable awkwardness, Enz and I had drank enough of our big gulps to basically forget anything weird happened.

"We're nothing like all of the movies we watch."

"No, we're definitely not." He chuckles under his breath.

"We are way better!" I exclaim.

"I don't know about all that," he says as he rolls his eyes.

"For real, we are. We broke the golden rule!"

"What rule?" he asks while looking genuinely confused.

"The rule about not being able to go back to the way things were," I remind him.

"Oh, that one. It's more like we disproved the theory. And I don't think we count anyway. We didn't let it get far enough. If we were in fact a movie, we would be one boring ass B-movie."

"Ha! A Bee-movie. Get it? Because I'm Bee and it's a movie about me!" I squeal in excitement.

I laugh at the thought, and Enz laughs at how excited I got before we start talking to ourselves like we're the voice over for our own movie, complete with narration and soundtrack. We commentate ourselves the entire time we walk around the mall. People look at us like we we're nuts.

"So one last thing and I will never bring the subject up again. Whoops, I mean,
Enzo allows Rigbee one last question before totally forgetting about the whole situation,
" I say the last part in a deep voice, pretending I'm a man narrator. I don't know why.

"Shoot."

"Why did you stay friends with me? Back when you thought you had feelings for me? I mean, I'm totally glad you did, but was it because you thought I needed your help? As if I couldn't take care of myself or something?"

"No," he says only.

I wait but it's like pulling teeth trying to get his answer.

"Well, then why?"

He ignores me for a long while. I think he is thinking about how to answer the question.

"I guess the only way I can think to answer you is by saying persistence beats resistance."

"Okay?" I stretch out the word letting him know I don't get what he's making a big deal about. "And?"

"I'm just embarrassed at how I've been handling the whole Marty thing. I'm not being persistent at all. I'm definitely being resistant."

"Yes, you have been. You should do something about that."

"I think I'm going to."

"It's about goddamn time!" I throw my hands up in an exhausted relief. 

"Persistence is better than resistance, persistence is better than resistance," I chant to myself as I walk up to the door of The Coney.

After our drunken mall talk I realized how hard his phrase struck. Along with the weight of a boulder still sitting in the bottom of my gut, it stuck with me. I was a hypocrite to think Enzo was the only one who needed to do some damage control. I am ready to give everything I've got into fixing our relationship.

I strut through the glass doors with purpose but my feet fumble when I see a girl I recognize from high school sitting at our table. I assume she must be with Lyle. A date. Good for him, but why did he have to choose her. He's already admitted to having an evil ex and how he would never go through the same thing again.

Shana was horrible to me. One of my many tormentors. A mean girl, relentlessly making me miserable every chance she got. I really hope she has grown up else I'll have to have a chat with Lyle. This is our usual Friday night coffee with the crew. Roman, Lyle, Thomas, Lawrence, Dirks, Malik, Willow, and I all show up almost every time. There are a few stragglers here and there, and sometimes even Enz, but for the most part it's the same, and I like the familiarity. I can't wait until Enzo hears about this. He will flip. He knows her and what she was like.

Regardless of our new table guest, it's now or never so I move toward our table. Lyle looks at me and then back. He leans in to ask Shana how she came to meet Roman. He makes his voice extra loud so I would hear him clearly.

Concerned and curious faces stare at me when they all slowly realize I'm standing here. The expressions my friends try to hide tell me all I need to know. She did not come with Lyle. My brain isn't ready to comprehend what is happening. A heavy haze washes over me, acting as my body's natural defense mechanism. My movements rival molasses as I slide out a chair opposite of Roman and Shana and slowly sit down. My senses are numb.

Pretending everything is as normal as any other night, I sit quiet and wide-eyed and listen to the small talk.

I myself am incapable of speaking. Once my brain comes to terms with the surreal situation maybe I'll be able to force out a full sentence or two.

If his intention was to give me the biggest slap in the face he had in his hand, he succeeded. That, however, is the lesser of the two evils. It hurts even worse to think he genuinely wanted to bring her with him tonight.

You know the feeling you get when you've swam too deep under water? Time passes slower as you hold your breath. Everything is heavy and you wait for the sweet relief that comes as you make your way to the top of this nightmare. Except the surface is so far away you don't know if you will ever make it. You start to panic and think that the air currently resting in your lungs will not be enough to hold you over, so you give in. You relax your body and float, giving yourself over to the water completely and let it decide your fate. Just when you think you can't possibly go any longer the stinging break of the outside air hits your face. The sharp waves crash against your ears and the sun's warmth heats your skin, screaming beautiful victory as you open your mouth and suck in as much air as your lungs will take in a single breath. The victory is short lived as your body regains feeling. Your senses are overwhelmed and running on high. The burning is everywhere and it won't stop. Every muscle shakes and every bone aches. Your thankfulness for being alive is overpowered by pain. That's what sitting here feels like.

"Isn't that right, Rigbee?"

"Huh?"

"See, even now your quirks astound me." She laughs at the state of my daydreaming self. "How cute, you're still so dorky. I love it."

No, she doesn't. My boyfriend may be fooled, but I can read between your lines of condescension you evil little twat.

"I was talking about how much fun we had in high school together."

"Right. Fun," I drawl out sarcastically, accidentally rolling my eyes.

"Remember the one time when we convinced you we were reading a different book in English class? Yeah, so then you spent the whole night before the test reading the wrong book. So hilarious"

The one she's referring to actually wasn't so bad. Sure, I was irritated at the time, but I ended up really liking the book. The point, though, is it was not funny and we were not friends, no matter how Shana Bane spins her storyweb of lies.

"Yep, I remember. Hilarious," I reply with as much indifference as possible, keeping my face completely neutral.

"Classic," she squeals before she segues the conversation into a new topic.

Out of pure pride, or maybe I'm just a closet masochist, but I went ahead and stayed for the remainder of the night. These are my friends and I'll be dammed if Shana ruins any part of my adult life. I paste on a fake smile and begin talking with Willow, avoiding any and all other eye contact. I've made my point.

I'm sitting in the same wooden chair I sit in every Friday. The group continues to talk amongst themselves, and my mind starts to wander. Their voices fade into the background, and I think about my chair. I find comfort in its familiarity. In knowing how one leg is missing its bottom piece, causing the chair to wobble a little to the left. It's stupid, but it's something I can count on. I shift my weight and the uneven chair doesn't disappoint, landing on its shorter side with a hard thud, making me smile my first real smile.

I drink my coffee and take dig after dig from Roman's passive aggressive, patronizing, bitch of a new toy. It takes everything I have to not turn around and give him a piece of my mind, but by some miracle I survive. When the night winds down, I grab my purse and force myself out the door, all the while pretending I still have the dignity to walk away with my chin up and that same smile on my face.