6
‘Lacy’
— Olivia Rodrigo
Lara
Lunch rolls around, I shoot Emma a quick text to see if her boyfriend is here today or if I should go to the library.
She responds immediately. He is sadly not here today.
I take that as my sign to head over to the cafeteria.
Part of me deep down knows Emma isn’t a true friend.
She isn’t a person I can rely on; I’d rather tell a dog my feelings rather than her.
My current book is in my hand. As I step into the cafeteria, it’s very noisy, the cold air of the room hitting my face.
My eyes scan around the room, looking for her caramel hair.
I spot her sitting in the corner of the lunch room, her back turned, and she’s scrolling through social media on her phone.
“Hey,” I say as I sit down. She looks up from her phone, her face contorts into an annoyed expression, but she quickly masks it. I can tell she isn’t happy to see me.
It’s weird how when Emma’s boyfriend is here, I can’t sit with her, but Jenna can. I don’t understand why, but it’s just how things have been.
“Hi, Lara,” Emma says, fake enthusiastically. When Jenna walks over, her whole face lights up, like really lights up. It’s not a fake expression; it's a genuine I’m happy to see you. It makes my stomach feel queasy.
“Jen! I missed you.” My heart clenches, wow.
She’s known Jenna for a year, and she’s known me for 5.
I wonder what changed. Maybe I’m not as pretty as the perfect pompous cheerleader Jenna.
Maybe I’m not as funny, or maybe I’m just very replaceable.
All the possibilities run through my head.
I really need better friends. Those are the words I tell myself almost every day. I feel alone most of the time.
“Hey, girl.” Jenna sits down next to Emma, and she takes out her compact mirror and applies more lip gloss.
I stare at Jenna, with long, sleek black hair that’s always paper straight, and pretty green eyes. Not as pretty as Scotty’s. His are like an emerald, glowing inside the darkest cave. Everyone likes her; she’s on the cheer team. Perfect hair, perfect smile. Nothing like me.
I watch the way they laugh together, how Emma and I used to do. Tears sting the back of my eyes. I’ll never be good enough to deserve a true friendship. I just take the scraps.
“What are you wearing?” Jenna makes a disgusted face, scrunching her nose, looking down at my jacket. It’s not even in a teasing way; it’s in a ‘your outfit is genuinely the ugliest thing ever’ way.
“Clothes?” I say, my answer turning into a question.
“Your puffer is hideous.” Emma laughs, she laughs.
My best friend of 5 years laughed at a joke Jenna made about my outfit to put me down.
I hate Jenna, and right now I hate Emma too.
Jenna whispers something I can’t hear into Emma’s ear, and they both laugh while looking at me.
Emma covers her face while she laughs, trying to hide her smile, but I can still see her eyes creased.
“I’m sorry!” Emma says, her laugh breaking through her words.
I stand up, rushing out of the room. Tears begin streaming down my face. I need to get out of here. It was just one rude comment, yet I’m taking it like they set my house on fire. I’m so pathetic sometimes it hurts.
Scott
“Jenna has a huge crush on you, man,” Danny whispers to me, except he whispers like a dying lawn mower.
Half the cafeteria probably heard him. I’m looking in their direction, but I’m not looking at Jenna at all.
I’m watching Lara. She’s sitting there with them, her stupid leg bouncing, her face tight like she wants to crawl out of her skin.
I can see Jenna staring at me, her neck craned like an owl.
As soon as I make eye contact, she snaps her attention away and starts giggling with her other friend.
God, that pisses me off. I hate when girls act like a little crush on someone they’ve never spoken to is the most important thing on earth.
I have more important things to focus on than girls.
“I am not interested in her,” I say, picking my fries up like they offended me, because thinking I would like Jenna back is very offensive.
“Then why are you looking at her?” Ashton asks, taking the sloppiest bite out of his burger, sauce dripping from the other end. I may be a guy, but I don’t eat like a pig. He looks like a toddler learning how to eat solids. It’s disgusting.
“Then who are you looking at?” Danny asks, turning back to look at the table Jenna’s sitting at.
I don’t answer because it should be obvious Jenna isn’t the one I’m looking at.
It’s the pretty girl in the pink puffer jacket that looks hideous, but she’s still adorable.
What am I thinking? I can’t be thinking about my enemy like this.
Yet she is more of a frenemy than an enemy.
We get along well, but not well enough to put a title on it.
“Oh my goodness!” Ashton says. “You like Lara.” I make a disgusted face. A fake disgusted face, to be honest. Liking Lara isn’t as offensive as liking Jenna. I don’t find anything offensive about it at all, actually.
“1) Who on earth says “Oh my goodness” 2) I don’t like Lara.” I take a bite of my French fry. Ashton drops his burger like he’s allergic to it. He wipes his face with a napkin.
“Good luck with that. She acts like she hates you.” Danny says, giving me a pat on the back. I groan, I DON’T LIKE LARA.
“I do not like Lara. Our families are friends, and I just have a class with her.” I rub my forehead, sighing to myself.
“Yeah, sure,” Danny says with a smirk plastered on his stupid face.
“I hate her.” I snap, which is a lie. A huge lie.
“Mm-hmmm.” Danny says, “Sure.” I throw a fry at his head.
He dodges it and grins. “Love is in the air, boys.”
“I swear to god,” I mutter, dragging my hand down my face. The noise starts to drown out when I look back at Lara’s table. She’s not there. I scan the room for her just to see her rushing out of the cafeteria, covering her face. I stand up.
“Where are you going?” I ignore Ashton's question and follow Lara out of the room.
I watch her walk into the girls' bathroom, I pause outside. I can’t go in, but listening to her soft sobs makes my heart clench.
“Lara?” I call out, the crying pauses. She doesn’t answer.
“I’m coming in.” Once again no answer, so I walk inside to see her wiping her eyes with a paper towel. Her mascara running down her face.
“What happened?” I ask, my eyes looking into hers, the pain in her eyes clear.
“Nothing,” she replies softly. Tears are still falling down her face, so I can tell that it’s not nothing. I may hate her, but I wouldn’t let her be this upset alone. I’m not a monster. Seeing her cry makes my chest hurt.
“This isn’t nothing, Butterfly.” I pull her into a soft hug, she gasps softly in surprise, like me ever comforting her is the craziest thing. It’s not for me, I’d comfort her any day.
“I’m not telling you,” she says. I run my hands through her soft hair, and oh god, that was a mistake because now I want to feel the soft, silky strands against my fingers forever.
Last time I saw Lara cry, it was over bullying in middle school. I didn’t comfort her then, so I’m comforting her now. I mostly just stood there and watched her cry, unaware of what to do in that situation. I mean, in middle school, I didn't even know how to interact with girls.
“You don’t have to,” I say softly. She pulls back from my chest, wiping the mascara from under her eyes, but it just smudges even more.
I chuckle softly and grab a paper towel, wetting it and squeezing out the excess. I wipe the makeup off her face. Lara just watches me.
“I still hate you,” she whispers.
“I do too,” I answer, yet I’m not entirely sure.
5 years later
‘Promise’
— Laufey
Scott
“Dammit, Lara!” I cup my cheek, the slap stinging my face, and she stares at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears, making me immediately feel bad.
I remember comforting her because she was sad about her fake friends, but now she’s about to cry, and it’s my fault.
How could I ever make Lara cry? All my life, my goal was to make her laugh. My goal was never to make her cry.
I grab her arm, trying to calm her down, but she yanks her arm away from me. “Can we just talk?” I beg.
“We could’ve talked 5 years ago before you left without saying anything!” she yells at me. I know I messed up. I messed up so bad, I just want to fix it.
“Lara I-”
“I still hate you.” ‘It’s not possible to hate someone than love them, because if you end up loving them, deep down you always did.’
Lara’s grandpa's words ring in my ear, the conversation we had on Christmas.
He never gave me advice on how to make her love me again.
I mean, I can’t ask now. He probably hates me for what I did to her.
“I don’t.” Usually in the past I’d say, ‘I do too,’ but I really don't.
“Then why the hell did you leave?” I don’t have an answer for that, so I stay silent, biting the inside of my cheek.
“See, exactly.” I can tell she’s about to leave, so I grab her, pulling her into a tight hug.
I feel her body tense around mine. She doesn’t move for a few seconds before she pushes back.
“Can we be friends again? Restart?” I need her to need me back.
“Restarting won’t change anything that happened.” She’s right, she’s so very right, even though I want her to be wrong. I’ve never wanted anyone to be so wrong.
“I’ll do anything to be your friend again.”
I’ll do anything to see her again. I look like a fool, I’m a crazy man because I’m insane about her, even though she’s only ever been crazy about me.
I went on a few dates to try and get her out of my head, but every day on the way home, I started singing along to ‘Pushing it Down and Praying’ by Lizzy McAlpine, the whole damn way.
“You should’ve thought about that before you left me.” I watch her turn around and walk away. I follow closely behind her as she grabs the hand of the other blonde-haired girl.
“You should probably leave her alone.” The girl was glaring at me.
“I will beat your ass, Scott.” I’ve seen this girl all over Lara’s Instagram.
I’m guessing it’s her best friend. I’m so glad Lara has made friends instead of her stupid high school group.
My friends stand off to the side, watching the exchange between us.
They just stare, not knowing what to do to help because they have always been team Lara.
“Can I at least get your number, Lara?” I watch her hesitate for a moment, then nod. She holds out her phone and makes me put my number in it. I handed her phone back.
“I’ll text you when I feel like it.” Then I let her leave this time.
“I’m sorry, man.” Danny pats me on the back, Ashton pulls me into a hug, and I begin sobbing into his shoulder. Not very manly of me, but anyone would feel like this if that was the woman they love. I just hope the media doesn’t get pictures of me like this.