Chapter Ten
At my first-ever sleepover—which was held at the embarrassing age of seventeen—Delia warned me about Tyler’s tendency to retreat into himself.
“You don’t feel weird that I’m practically poaching your best friend?” I’d asked Tyler earlier that afternoon, when Delia texted me to hang out and I decided to take the leap and extend the sleepover invitation. Tyler, however, wasn’t bothered in the slightest.
“Of course not,” he’d said, kissing the back of my hand that was threaded in his while we drove back from a slushy run. “It makes me happy to see my two favorite girls hanging out together.”
I wonder if he’d say the same knowing that we were gossiping about him during said hangout, but alas.
“I guess that’s true,” I’d finally replied into my bowl of buttery goodness, unable to keep the frown from slipping into my expression.
While things with Tyler had been generally great up until that point, he’d gotten into a particularly rough argument with his parents about college choices earlier that day and had been spotty over our text thread ever since.
Even the slushy run didn’t do much, other than give him a sugar high and me anxiety when I’d notice the strained way he smiled on the drive.
“I’m serious,” Delia emphasized, leaning down until the indigo tendrils of her hair were brushing the edges of my popcorn bowl, her piercings glinting in the lamplight as she met my gaze.
“It’s nothing to take personally, Olive.
When Tyler has something that he needs to work out, he just wants to slink off and do it in his own head.
It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you—it just means that he needs a second to process things. ”
And while I knew, deep down, that she was right, it was still such a relief to hear it come out of her mouth.
The relief must’ve been evident on my face, because in that moment, Delia Franklin did the one thing I’d never seen her do before.
While I’d seen her break her wrist on a skateboard and get up laughing, or give herself a stick-and-poke tattoo in her cramped bathroom, or drive with only her knees, I’d never seen her give anyone a hug.
But that’s exactly what she did—she placed her bowl of popcorn to the side and reached over to wrap her arms around my neck and squeeze me tight.
After squeaking out a surprised little oof, I’d recognized the moment for the monumental occurrence that it was and squeezed back, breathing in the tangy scent of her perfume and feeling the tight pressure of her embrace.
I can’t wait to text Tyler about this, I remember thinking. He’s going to go berserk when he finds out that Delia voluntarily gave someone a hug.
When we pulled apart, Delia looked at me strangely.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, running my tongue over my teeth to catch any stray popcorn kernels, suddenly self-conscious that I was making myself look like an idiot somehow at my first-ever sleepover.
This is why the “first sleepover” milestone was meant to be for literal children with teddy bears and socially acceptable homesickness levels for their age, and yet here I was, almost a senior in high school and completely unaware of the social etiquette involved in having a friend stay over.
“Nothing,” Delia replied slowly, chewing on her lip as she fell deeper in thought. “It’s just…I think I just realized that you’re kind of one of my closest friends now, and that’s kind of weird, because I don’t really make new friends.”
“Oh my god.” I clasped my hands to my chest in dramatic shock. “For real? I made the cut? Are we closer than you and Tyler?”
Delia blushed and threw a handful of popcorn in her mouth in a weak attempt to end the conversation. “Well, I never had a sleepover with Tyler, so.”
“I knew it!” I squealed, tossing a few extra kernels in the air, buttery confetti raining back down on us.
“I knew you were only pretending to have a cold, dead heart. It’s all squishy and warm just like everyone else’s.
” While Delia always tried to play the role of the tough, impenetrable fortress, it was becoming more and more clear that she was really anything but.
She was actually a fantastic friend, and that night just proved it all the more.
This revelation gets a stray piece of popcorn-slash-confetti thrown back at me. “Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and accept the fact that we’re besties, okay?”
I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I continued to chant all throughout the movie, always at the most gory parts, just to make Delia laugh.
And after two hours of needling her about admitting our best friendship, it wasn’t until the credits were rolling and we were both dozing off on our respective pillows that I heard her speak.
“You’re right,” she sighed into the dark room. “Maybe you aren’t half bad after all, Olive.”
Thank you, I think I whispered back, or maybe I just thought it as sleep began to pull me under.
But regardless, I distinctly remember the sweet glow in my heart at the thought of finally having another girl as a friend who wasn’t forced to hang out with me because we happened to choose the same club or be on the same team.
Delia liked me for me, outside of knowing me through my relationship with Tyler.
That was one of the first moments where I felt like I was really starting to belong.
Which makes me wonder why I thought it would ever be a good idea to torch it all.