Chapter 4
Wendell
Four Years Ago
“Hey,” a light knock sounds at the door, “can we talk?”
I swipe off the image of Peyton in a bikini before answering, “Uh, ya. Give me a second.” I shove the semi down in my sweats and pad over to the door.
Some might call me a sick kind of fuck for getting off to my roommate, AKA my best friend’s girl.
I’d call myself worse. But for better or worse, everyone just knows me as the nice guy.
“What’s up, Peyton?” Swinging the door open, I find her blinking hard.
For an arrogant second, I let myself believe it’s because of my shirtlessness, but then I see the red strain in her eyes.
“Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on?” With great effort, I resist the urge to pull her into my arms and instead, gesture for her to come in.
And like an idiot, I close the door behind us.
She sits on my bed and I bite back a groan.
Knowing there’s no decent place for me, I squat in front of her. Some distance is required.
“Um…” She rolls her bottom lip into her mouth. “I think Mike’s going to propose.”
For years into the future, I still will have no concept as to how I stayed grounded at her announcement.
“Uh, that’s great. I’m happy for you.” Fuck that. My heart just ripped into thirds. One for me. Two for her.
“Right?” She looks at me like she’s pleading for something.
“Great news. Just great.”
I find myself standing up. Pacing.
“You’re the only one I can talk to about this.”
“Hmm?” My mind definitely wandered somewhere dark and lonely, perhaps even dangerous—like a bear care—while she talked.
“Um…can you sit? You’re making me more nervous.”
Shit.
“Ya.” I misjudge the distance when I plop down beside her and my thigh rubs against hers.
“It’s just…I don’t know if I’m ready. What do you think?”
What do I think? I fucking think she chose the wrong guy, that’s what I think.
“I don’t know.” I scratch my head like an idiot. “What do you need to be ready for?”
And she confirms it. She looks at me like I just said the dumbest thing. “
“Mike’s been…kind of…distracted lately. He’s really been into penny stocks, now that he knows he’s not going to be drafted.”
I have no clue what the fuck penny stocks are but that guy has been glued to his phone researching them. “That’s a good kind of distracted, right? He’s building a future for you guys.”
“Ya. That’s true. I know you’re right. I’m just feeling…”
My every heartbeat hangs onto how she’s about to finish that sentence, but all I get is her eyes searching mine. And then her face crumples.
“I’m sorry. I’m a terrible person.”
I have no clue what’s going on in her head, and my arms don’t wait for instructions.
They just pull her in. “You’re the furthest thing from a terrible person that I know.
You’re an awesome person. Probably the awesomest person that I know.
” Truth. That elicits a chuckle though, as if I’m humoring her.
“Seriously, Peyton. You’re kind. Selfless. Caring. You’re dedicated to your schoolwork. People love being around you.” Especially me.
Her head was on my chest, but somehow it snuck up to my neck, and I can feel her warm breath tickling my skin. This is the closest, and most alone, I’ve ever allowed us to get.
“You’re good. Really good.” I squeeze her shoulder.
“Thanks. You too.”
“Ha. Ha. I’m not looking for compliments.”
“I’m serious, Wendell. You’re….you.”
The self-conscious chuckle that gurgles out of me has me cringing. “Thanks, so about you—”
“That came out wrong. I just mean that there’s only one you.”
My arm still hangs around her shoulder and I pray to God that she can’t hear the thumping of my heartbeat or feel the heat swelling inside of me. Her words mean too much to me.
“The world is a better place for having you in it.”
She can’t possibly know what she’s saying to me. How she’s assuaging years of guilt. Mountainous piles of guilt.
“Wendell, I hope it’s okay to say this, but” —her eyes that inspire the ocean’s blueness lock me into place— “I love you so much.”
Rushing waves thrash through my mind. My legs struggle to find purchase on the ground solidly below my feet.
What the—
“As a friend. I really love you.”
Eye of the storm? I see you.
I clear my throat. “Ya. Me too.” Before I give her a soft kiss on the temple, I send her a smirk and speak words I’ve never before nor since uttered to any girl. “I love you too.”
Her eyes widen for a fraction of a hair of a second, assumedly because I don’t tack on, as a friend. Then, for the most bizarre and terrifying moment of my life, with her head titled up, I think she might be inviting me in for more than that chaste temple kiss.
As much as my body aches for more with her, I could never betray my friend.
“And that’s why I’m so happy for you and Mike.”
“Right. Mike.”
I know there was a pause between those two words, but it seems symbolic. “You picked the right guy, Peyton.”
She gives me a weird look that makes me fear I said too much, but then her expression changes. “Thanks for being my friend, Wendell.”
And like I’m condemning myself to the state rather than welcoming it, I say, “Always.”