My Best Friend's Boyfriend | BxB

41. We Don't Talk Anymore

The end of the long second term was supposed to be the happiest time of the school year, second only to the end of the school year which came with a two month holiday on it's wake, but to Gale it was the worst time yet. And not just because the football season was getting into its home stretch, and they were stuck on an infuriating position on the table, fourth. If only they could get to second, they would have higher hopes of getting promoted.

Football aside, his life seemed to have become one long continuous joke, getting closer to the punch line each passing day.

He flipped his report form on one hand, the other pressed firmly on the steering wheel.

At least he wasn't going to get a school related lecture from his parents, he had aced each and every subject, even improving on his troublesome English grade.

Which was something he hadn't believed he could manage that term, because he had been distracted, stressed out, depressed half of the time and distracted all over again. Or maybe the fact that he had turned to books when he wasn't doing anything football related had helped.

He drove his truck into the driveway and parked it there. He got out and locked it, then shouldered his bag and walked towards the house. At the door he stopped and looked to his left, at the Blakes' house.

Emily.

He could remember, very well, the last time he had talked to her.

Two weeks ago.

He had skipped practice just so that he could get her at home before her mother could get back home, and he had. When he had let himself in, something he had comfortably done for years until a month ago, she had been in the kitchen, slicing up a water melon.

"What are you doing here?" She had asked, surprised, the knife cluttering to the counter.

Which had been an improvement from Leave me alone, or get out here, or worse, I don't want to see you.

He had stuck his hands into his pockets, his gaze falling all over the kitchen but on her. He hadn't taken a single step past the kitchen doorway.

"Please, can you..." He had paused, taken a deep breath. "Can you talk to Matt? Please?"

He had expected her volley of angry words, as had happened any time he had tried to as much as apologise. Instead she had acquired a pinched look on her brow.

"What? Again?"

He had looked at her then, frowning. "Again?"

"I talked to him. On Monday. Didn't he tell you?"

No, he hadn't.

Emily had talked to him, and he still hadn't changed his mind?

"Did you for...what did..."

He had trailed off, because he had been afraid he would say something offsetting.

Emily's eyes had dropped to her melon, and she had picked up the knife. She had shrugged. "It's fine, he couldn't have forced feelings for me when he didn't have them, he made a mistake not telling me earlier but I'm over it now, it's better to let it go and move on. Try to move on."

Standing there, Gale hadn't been sure what to do. Hell, he hadn't been sure he had heard her right. She had been so angry for long, so quiet, and still avoided him like a plague, he hadn't expected her to say she had forgiven Matt and let it go.

And he had been afraid of asking for his forgiveness, he wasn't sure he wanted it anymore. He had been a horrible friend, and if she never talked to him again, he would take it, however hard it was, because he deserved worse.