The Real Scömìche

Kirstin

"We broke up."

Scott pulled on a top on over his bare chest as I tried to tear my eyes away from his broad frame. Mitch winked at me and I managed a watery smile as he reached for something behind the door. He held up a bottle of Chianti. Scott slung a muscular arm round my shoulder, stealing the mint chocolate chip pint of ice cream from the bundle of frozen cartons in my hands. Mitch grabbed a goldfish bowl sized glass for each of us and we sat simultaneously on the sofa, me nestled between the two guys, the cold smooth ice cream melting on my tongue. Mitch grabbed his super soft make up cleanser and wiped off my smudged eyeliner and mascara tear tracks, and Scott poured the alcohol in to the huge glasses.

"Honey, what happened? I thought you and Jeremy were in paradise?" Scott placed the glass in my other hand and took my hand in his. It sent an unexpected tingle down my spine.

"Well, the honeymoon period is definitely over. Like, super over... Like, caught him shagging another girl over." I stared at my manicured hands. Mitch scooped some cookie dough ice cream onto a spoon and into my mouth, throwing his head back laughing at the pathetic expression I was inevitably wearing. My head was whirling with words we both said in the argument but I couldn't focus on anything with Scott sitting there, his hand entwined, his fingers laced in mine. Mitch was dithering with the carton of ice cream, obviously oblivious, or not caring about my hand in Scott's. His bright blue eyes twinkled in the dim light and his blonde hair was perfectly styled, complimenting the shape of his pale face perfectly. His broad, chiseled frame was spread over the arm of the couch, the patterns of his abs and biceps reflected in his tee, and his left hand beneath his blonde chin. How does anyone look good slouched over with their face being squished by their giant paws? Aaaaarrrrrggggggghhhhh! What am I doing? This is Scott. Mitch's boyfriend. My best friend. Scott, who's involved very heavily with my best bitch. Scott, who I've known since I was a teenager. Scott, who was unknowingly and shamelessly flirting with me. Scott, who I'd dated at seventeen. Scott, who was in LOVE with Mitch. I couldn't betray Mitch. I couldn't act on anything I felt for Scott. Not as long as he and Mitch were dating.

******

"Hey, can I talk to you?" Scott asked me the next morning, shaking my shoulder to wake me. I rubbed my eyes, ignoring the black dust that came from yesterday's mascara, and shifted on the bed. I was in his old room. He sat down on the mattress next to me, his blue eyes avoiding mine. He took a deep breath and began to speak.