Riley and Devin

Chapter Thirty-Nine

My eighteenth birthday is soon. In a couple of weeks. Days really. I'm excited. And nervous. I haven't spent much time with Devin, and I'll definitely be seeing him. "Your birthday's soon," Devin says. The fact that he remembers my birthday makes me feel even worse about forgetting his.

"Yeah," I say. I take a bite of my apple. I don't know what I'm going to do. Alex comes over with lunch and sits down next to me. It's nice having him as a friend.

"What's happening?" Alex asks.

"My birthday, it's in a couple of days," I tell Alex.

"You having a party?" Devin asks me. I smirk.

"Am I in middle school? No, I'm not having a party," I say.

"I'll throw you one," Devin says casually. I start to choke on my apple.

"Excuse me?" Alex pats my back as I continue to choke.

"I'll throw you a party. My brother and Theo got an apartment and they are going to be out of town, they leave early on Friday. You're birthday's on Friday, so I'll just have that night. I'll invite a couple of people, it makes sense," Devin explains.

"I'm assuming I get an invitation?" Alex asks. Devin mutters something.

"I think you're forgetting a tiny detail: I don't have any friends beside you and Alex," I say. Devin shrugs.

"I can take care of it," he says.

"Um, okay. But-" I start. Devin cuts me off.

"Riley, please let me do this for you." And that's all it takes for me to cave in.

"I hope that you know that this is a terrible idea. Have you ever seen a teen movie? Parties always end badly," I tell Devin. Alex smiles. I look at my watch and stand up. "I'll see you guys later."

I walk to my class even though I have it with Devin. I sit down and try not to worry.

When I get home I sit down on my bed. I get up and walk to my closet. I look around in my closet for something to wear to the party. I pull a particularly small and tight black dress. I never even worn it. I try it on and then take it off.

I'm not wearing that. Instead I opt for a pair of skinny jeans and a halter top. It's a silver that brings out my eyes. I put it back in my closet and fall back onto my bed. I put my arms under my head and stare at the cracks on my ceiling.

I'm going to be eighteen.

Eighteen and I've never gotten drunk, never been to a party. Eighteen and I've only ever kissed two boys; eighteen and I'm in love. In love with my best friend and pretending not to be. Eighteen and being tortured by my feelings. I love some one that will never love me back.

Every touch, every move, every breath. Every glance, every look, every conversation. I'm hyper aware of all of it. Noticing every little detail. Even the most insignificant. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, he might feel something.

Some tiny thing that won't make a difference. Just something.

But he won't.

And I'll be okay. It's not about me. It's about our friendship. I've known him forever and I'm not about to fuck everything up.

Good bye feelings.

It's the only way.