Tell Me You'll Miss Me | ✓

25. splinter

The whole rest of the week, I tried to pretend things were normal.

You know, like I hadn't recently realised I was head over heels for my best friend.

It was low-key terrifying, because Summer was still seeing David, and David wasn't a bad guy, so I couldn't even hate him for potentially getting in the way of what Summer and I could be. What if she never broke up with him? Was I supposed to be maid of honor at her wedding?

And worse: what if he broke up with her? Or if she broke up with him? And I said something stupid, and she had to tell me we were just friends?

God, this was a total nightmare to navigate. My head was constantly running through all of these icky scenarios, and I realised the odds of us having a happy ending were growing ever slimmer.

I should've just found a way to make it work with Nora.

Nora, actually, had become my biggest cheerleader. Well, that was a lie, because Summer was still way ahead in that regard, but she was definitely championing the idea that Summer and I could totally end up together somehow, and that was what was keeping me going.

"She called you the hottest thing on Earth yesterday," Nora said, while she made us coffees from the machine in their kitchen that Summer had fixed. "What platonic bestie says that about their gal pal?" Nora scoffed, smirking over at me.

"Sure, but you know her. She's like, Broadway levels of drama."

It was true that Summer had always been super complimentary of me, but she'd been saying stuff like that since I'd met her. From day one, I'd been the cutest this, the hottest that, the superlativest everything.

"You're not wrong," Nora chuckled. "But like, I don't say that shit to my friends. I'm sure they look handsome or pretty or whatev, but... I'm not trying to get in their pants, you know?"

She shot me a shameless grin that said she knew exactly what she was implying. I doubted it was true - no way had Summer been trying to drop hints this whole time.

I mean, it was Summer. She would've just said it. She was a storm, not a drizzle.

I smacked Nora's upper arm lightly and turned my back to her, shaking my head disparagingly at her words. I settled back at the table before she did, my chair scraping noisily against the kitchen hardwood, and stared down at my laptop screen. Revision was hell, and Nora was almost as bad a distraction as The Summer Situation.

Nora tried to organize a follow-up revision session, and included Summer and David in the group chat. As my eyes skimmed the message, I panicked, but then David saved the day.

uhhhh not that night, sorry! i was thinking of throwing a party, actually, bc everyone's so stressed... so... byob! 10pm? you two better be there.

How could I be upset with this guy? He was my hero and he had no idea. It was almost sad that his house was about to get wrecked, but not so sad that I wouldn't absolutely 1) be there to see it and 2) partake.

A blur of studying, coffee, headaches, breakdowns and the looming promise of final exams passed by in the following days, and everyone was so on edge that the pressure was well and truly on for this party to be a success. David had confided in us that originally he'd just wanted it to be "casual brews and bros," a phrase I made him promise to never use again, but now he was worried that everyone was going to go crazy.

And, holy hell, did they ever.

I tried to get there early, thinking I could probably help out in some capacity, but picking out a look had been a nightmare. I'd tried on everything in my closet and wound up hating every single outfit I could put together. I'd ended up relying on a staple: an old tee of my Dad's that I'd refashioned into a crop top, with my yellow plaid shirt open over it. I teamed that with a cute mini skirt and my boots.

I wound up getting there a little after eleven, and everything seemed to be in full swing. The bass wasn't visibly shaking the house, obviously, but-- wait, was it? This was already too much. Cups littered the porch of the house, and when I went to knock on the door (as if anyone inside could've heard) I found it was already open.

David was atop the shoulders of two guys I didn't think I'd ever seen before, brandishing his cup and sloshing it messily down around him.

"David!" I yelled, trying to get his attention to say hi.

"J-Dog!" David's face lit up, and he gestured to be put down as I pushed past three girls who were blocking the way.

"Nope," I said, smirking at him as he wrapped me in a big hug, "just Jess is fine."

"Yeah, she is!" David raised his eyebrows at me jokingly, and I started to crack up.

"Where's Summer at?" I asked, my eyes scanning the halls. I wondered for a flicker of a second if it was weird of me to ask, but really that was the common link between us - and she was my best friend, still. David didn't know about all the bizarre feelingsy emotions that had been swimming around in my brain lately.

"Oh, uhhh--" David looked around, pulling a face. "I gotta talk to you about her, actually," he said, pulling me aside. "She was saying all this stuff about going to her parents' vacation home for summer break and, uh. That's... that's kinda... wow?"

I nodded, feeling like a tiny splinter of wood had just been driven into my heart. It wasn't a big, catastrophic revelation, but shit, that little annoying splinter really hurt. Summer didn't invite just anyone to meet or hang out with her family, let alone go on vacation with them.

"That's really great, David," I said, hoping it sounded like there was some real enthusiasm in my voice.

"No-- I mean... that freaked me the hell out," he clarified, tone dropping to a hush as he swayed closer, his eyes bugging out. "It's been-- a month? Two? Maybe less? Shit. What's her deal?"

"Her deal?" I replied, starting to feel nervous about what had gone down.

"Yeah, I mean, is she crazy or what?"

"She just likes you," I almost spat.

"Right, but is she the type of girl who's gonna be annoying me about engagement rings every day for the rest of my life or nah? I'm not looking for something serious," he shrugged, scrunching his face up.

"I don't-- this is stupid. You don't get her," I said, exasperated. "She's being nice. If you don't want to go, she's not going to break up with you."

"Cool, cool." David took a gulp of whatever it was he was drinking. It smelled potent, even from where I stood. "She kinda seems high-maintenance, that's all. I don't know if I need that drama."

I punched David in the face.

Hands wrapped around my waist and pulled back on my shoulders before I even knew what was happening, and they tugged me back, away from David. He was staring after me, stunned, with a hand pressed up to what I hoped would be a nastily bruised cheekbone.

Everyone was yelling, including me. It was the boldest I'd ever felt in my life as I thrashed my way out of the grip of several strangers and at least two or three people I shared a class with. I huffed and shook everyone off, straightening out my plaid and pulling it back up onto my shoulders.

"I'm going," I said, to calm the continuing, incessant yelling. "He was talking shit, okay? I'm going," I repeated, turning around and holding my hands up in surrender.

My right hand, actually, stung like hell. I felt a little proud of that, because I was certain David's face felt worse. Dad had taught me how to throw a decent punch. I'd never thought it'd come in handy - that he was being overprotective and needlessly cautious, and, well... maybe I hadn't used what he'd taught me for self-defence or an especially noble cause, but a drunken dude talking shit about my best friend when he was supposed to be a (boy)friend of hers and be on her side? No thanks.