You sat on the couch watching a movie with Brady, like the two of you always did. You had been best friends since he had moved to New York. You were there for college, and you both found some comfort in each other, instantly bonding from the fact that you were both from the midwest. At times the big city became overwhelming, and he always made you feel like home.
You were counting down the minutes until you could to leave. As you checked the clock on your cell phone, for the eighth time in the last ten minutes. You couldn't tell why, but you felt an unusual awkward tension between the two of you.
"Okay, I should get going." You sighed, getting up off the couch. Brady rolled his eyes, as he stopped the movie.
"Brady, what is wrong?" You asked, exasperated.
"Are you jealous?" You laughed, he glared at you.
"You're always ditching me for him." He was referring to your boyfriend. The two of you had been dating for a few weeks and had just become official. You were leaving Brady's to go meet him for dinner at a nearby restaurant.
"I am not always ditching you for him. Actually, I probably spend more time with you than with him." You said, packing up your things and putting up your jacket.
"Whatever, I still don't like him." He said focusing on the TV, refusing to make eye contact with you.
"You don't like anyone I date." You sighed, your arms flailing. It was true, with every guy you dated Brady found some problem with. They were either too quiet, they had bad taste in clothes, or they were too caught up with work. Those were just the excuses he gave for the last three guys you had introduced him to. Yes, sometimes he was right but the majority of the time it just felt like he was searching.
"I just don't think you have very good taste in guys." He said it so nonchalantly, once again, refusing to make eye contact with you.
"Excuse me?" You were crossing the room to grab your jacket but you stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. Your left eyebrow raising as you gave him a sardonic expression, crossing your arms.
"Well, you always end up heartbroken in the end." His fingers playing with the zipper on his sweatshirt.
"That's not my fault!" You exclaimed, your voice was raising.
"Maybe." He said calmly, still sitting on the couch. "And I always have to pick up the pieces in the end." Now you were mad. He had always offered to be there for you, never had you made you feel like it was a burden, and now he was throwing it in your face.
"Brady, are you kidding?"
This was weird. You and Brady never fought, never even really bickered. Your friendship was always light and easygoing.
"No, (Y/N), I'm not, and I'm not trying to be mean. I just want you to be careful with your heart. I'm not always going to be here to pick up the pieces for you." You rolled your eyes at what he was saying.
"Don't roll your eyes." He said. "You cannot be mad at me for caring about you."
"Yes. I. Can." You spoke from the doorway of Brady's apartment, before leaving.
