I don't know why but watching movies has always been our thing. For some reason watching movies together always made us feel better, no matter what had happened. Hopefully it can help her tonight. Technically it's my turn to pick the movie but I feel like she deserves a break from my Bond movies right now, so Charlie St. Cloud is playing on the television in my bedroom but it's only background noise compared to the weeping pile of blankets and ice cream that is Blake Carroll.
"I can't believe it, Carter," she sobs into my shoulder. "I don't know how I didn't see this coming! It was so obvious!"
Blake is my best friend; she has been since middle school. I would do anything to help her, but this time, I'm at a loss. I don't know how to make her feel better. I always knew that Andrew was a jerk but even I never expected this one. I still can't believe he would cheat on her. I mean, it's her. Sure there may have been clues, but if we're being honest, Andy wasn't the smartest so I didn't think much of it... Actually, he was an idiot; I don't know how he kept it hidden for almost 2 years.
"Why was I not good enough? What is wrong with me? What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong with you, B," I start, weakly. "He is an idiot, a complete idiot. He has to be! Why else would anyone cheat on you? You're as close to perfect as I've ever seen."
When she first told me she was seeing Andy I tried to stop her. I tried. I told her that he was a bad idea; she wouldn't listen. But that's not important right now. Right now I have a responsibility to my best friend. Five years ago, when I broke her heart, I made a promise that I would never let anyone break it ever again. Even now, after all these years, I haven't settled whether I was making that promise to her or to myself. Either way, this falls under the conditions of that promise and I'm not going to break it, not this time.
"Carter?" She whimpers into my neck, finally out of breath and tears, in between sleep and awake, the exhaustion in her voice threatening to overtake the pain.
"Yeah?" I ask, glancing at the cup of ice cream in her hand; she's almost out of that too.
"Why did you break up with me?" I'm taken aback and she can tell, too. She doesn't stop, though, and her weary voice has something more to it now; I can't tell exactly what.
"When we were together," She starts again, "what made you suddenly decide you didn't love me 'like that' anymore?"
