Friend Is a Four Letter Word Read online

  “What have you been up to?”

  I take a long drink from the thick shake before answering. When I’ve decided I’ve waited as long as politeness—and the impending brain freeze will allow I clear my throat and give Nolan a vague rundown of my touristy activities.

  “Okay, so you’re here visiting your friend Quinn,” he says after I’ve painted a beautiful, albeit slightly fabricated picture of lazy days on the beach and delicious, home cooked meals.

  “Yes,” I say. “I just felt like I didn’t really take a break after school and wanted to see a few things before I…” What? Settled down? Turned into a real adult?

  “It’s okay,” Nolan says. He reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. “It’s okay to not have it all figured out right now, Shayna. You’re still so young.”

  “Don’t patronize me, I’m not a child,” I snap. I have no idea where the anger comes from, but it’s there, front and center.

  Nolan yanks his hand off of mine. “That’ not what I meant. I just meant that I’ve been there… I am there.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Nolan links his hands behind his head and leans into them. “I know how it is to be the kid of a pastor. To grow up having this set of rules and expectations laid out for you that you feel like you can never deviate from, or the kingdom of God will reign down disappointment on you.” He laughs to keep things light, but I know what he means, and it’s the truth. “To never feel like you have any choices of your own. I’ve done my time, but man—when that feeling hits you that you’re living the life someone else planned for you—it hits hard.”

  A few awkward moments pass where neither of us says a word. Finally Nolan tosses his empty straw paper onto the tabletop, smiles and says, “I mean, am I right?”

  “Yes.” It comes out sadder than I expect.

  The waiter comes to take our order and suddenly, I regret picking such a public place. I feel like Nolan understands, and that his confessions and this conversation deserved better.

  “What are you going to do then?” I ask. Like it’s that easy.

  “What am I going to do? To what? Break out of it? I’ve already done it in some respects. You were my adventure,” he says with a sheepish smile.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I started feeling like this a couple of years ago. Probably around the time I graduated from high school. My college was already chosen for me. My dad really wanted me to go into the ministry. I at least got him to back off of that a little. But once he eased up on that topic, my mom became obsessed with finding me a match. I swear the last two years have felt like they are arranging a marriage for me.”

  I almost choke on the ice in my water. I set the glass back down and blot at my mouth politely.

  “Are you serious?”

  Nolan laughs and shakes his head. “I mean, to an extent yeah. I hadn’t picked a date in years until… you.”

  “But our parents set us up,” I say.

  He shakes his head, locking eyes with me.

  “I met you at that coat drive and knew I had to at least take a shot at a date with you. I went to your dad and asked if it’d be alright if I asked you out. He told me he’d take care of it.”

  “He what?” I swallow hard. I feel like there is an entire strawberry lodged in my throat.

  “He said he would take care of setting something up for you and I to spend some time together.”

  “He didn’t trust me enough to make the right decision.” He thought I’d turn Nolan down, so he took the choice away from me. Unbelievable.

  “Look, I know that’s not ideal, but it worked. I got a date with you—”

  “You got bowling,” I laugh.

  “I took it happily.”

  “Wait, you said I was your adventure. What was it about me that made you want to go out with me?” I lean forward and lower my voice, remembering the rumors about me sleeping with older men, married men, anyone. Some of it was true—most of it was just lies that I refused to deny. Let them think whatever they want. I didn’t give a shit. Not until recently. “I know some of the stuff that’s gone around—”

  “I wanted to go out with you because of the way you were with those kids at the coat drive. How you bent down and interacted with them. How you smiled and helped them pick the very best coat you could. How you made sure every single one of them walked away smiling.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  “I mean, I’m a man. Don’t get me wrong. You’re unbelievably sexy, Shayna.”

  I feel fire on my cheeks. Nolan has never talked to me like that. Like he—desired me.

  “That’s—thank you.”

  He shrugs. “I get it though, you either feel it or you don’t. You didn’t, but you’re going to make some man very, very happy, Shay.”

  Our food arrives and I pick around at the fries and burger, uninterested in food and trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject I most want to talk about.

  “Listen,” I finally say. “Have you… have you talked to my parents at all since I’ve been gone?”

  He lets out a low whistle and smirks. “Are you kidding? You decided to up and leave within hours of going out with me. Who do you think your mama’s first phone call was?”

  “Sorry about that,” I say, cringing a little.

  “No harm done. It did take me a while to calm her down and convince her that I didn’t do something awful to you to make you pack up your clothes and jump in your car, but mostly she was just worried about you. I understood that, I was worried too.”

  “I’m okay,” I say.

  “I see that.” He tips his chin to acknowledge it.

  “Is my Mom? Okay?”

  “I think so. She misses you. I imagine you miss her, too.”

  “I do.”

  “You could try calling her. I bet that’d mean a lot to her, Shayna.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. There’s some other things going on between my parents and I that I have to sort out in my own head first.”

  Nolan nods.

  “When was the last time you saw them?”

  Nolan’s look is a little too earnest when he says, “Last week. I was checking out in front of them at the store and we sort of got to talking. They asked if I’d heard from you. I told them I hadn’t, but that I would look you up while I was on this end for the interview.”

  “That was nice of you,” I say. It’s not nearly enough info. I want more. I want to know what my mom’s eyes looked like when they talked. Did she fiddle with her bracelets like she does when she’s nervous? Did Dad hold an impromptu prayer session in the middle of the checkout line like he’s prone to doing?

  “But now that I see that you’re just fine, I can report back to them.” he winks. “Though I don’t know how thorough my report will be, you haven’t given me a whole lot to go on.”

  His question is leading. I’m not ready to give in.

  “How was it?” I ask, changing the subject. “The interview.”

  Nolan rolls his neck like the thought of it is bringing back stress.

  “It was good. My father is furious, so that’s always a plus, but I think I’ve got a real shot at it.”

  “And London, wow. I just came a few states over. You’re talking about jumping over oceans. I think you win.” I laugh, and it feels good.

  “Maybe,” he says. His eyes fill with a little regret. “Maybe when you lose something you really want, you win other things. Maybe it’s all about balance, you know?”

  I do.

  “I’m sorry about how things were left with us, Nolan. I wasn’t in the greatest place.”

  “It’s fine, Shay, no worries.”

  “No, I mean it. I feel badly about how I led you to believe… I led you on, Nolan. There’s no way around what it was.”

  “I believed what I wanted to. There was never any false hope on your end. I wanted to believe that if we spent enough time together, things would change. That s
omeday I’d see that spark in your eye when you looked at me.” Nolan laughs a little, but it’s tinged with sadness. “It’s my fault for being presumptuous. And stubborn. You hold no blame here.”

  “That’s very kind of you to say. I’m so glad that you made it out here.”

  We make small talk the rest of the meal until we’ve overstayed our welcome in the crowded restaurant.

  “I’d better get going,” I say. “I promised Quinn I’d check out this new market downtown later on. I’m not sure what time she had in mind, so…”

  “I understand,” Nolan says. He tosses a tip down on the table and stands behind me, placing his hand protectively on the small of my back as we weave through the restaurant and out onto the pier.

  The sun is going down and the temperature is dropping quickly. I can’t help but shiver. I stop walking to say goodbye and Nolan pulls me in closer to him, rubbing his palms up and down my arms to warm me up.

  “Didn’t realize we’d be here so long or I would’ve brought a sweater,” I say. Someday I’ll learn to do that here. If I end up staying…

  “Sorry to keep you.”

  I shake my head and say, “No, I’m so glad you called. You didn’t keep me at all.”

  “Well, if the interview went well, you may see a little more of me. Second interviews will be conducted in LA as well.”

  “That’s fantastic news!” I say.

  “So you’ll be around? Here I mean? You’re staying for a while.”

  I have no idea. I came out here to figure out what would make Shayna happy and I’ve done next to none of that.

  “I have something for you,” Nolan says. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small box. “When I said inside that I hadn’t seen your mom in a couple of weeks, that wasn’t the truth. She came by my apartment three days ago and gave me this to give to you.”

  I take the white box from him, running my finger over the soft ribbon that holds it closed.

  “She said your birthday is coming up and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get this to you otherwise.”

  I open my mouth to speak but Nolan cuts me off.

  “That’s not why I called you though! I wanted to see you, too.”

  “Thank you,” is all I can say.

  “Anything for you, Shayna.”

  I shake the box gently and say, “Thank you for this. And for understanding. And for being the friend that I don’t really deserve.”

  This time, his face doesn’t wrinkle when I say friend.

  “I hope to see you again, Shayna. Take care.”

  “Hey, Nolan?” I call, just as he’s about to turn away. “So I was your adventure, huh”

  “For then.” He shrugs. “There’ll be others.”

  I press my palms to each side of his face and pull his mouth to mine. I kiss him. I kiss him like he always deserved, but I never let myself. I kiss him to let him know how much him he means to me. I kiss him with the tiniest, selfish hope that I’ll feel something for him that I never did before.

  “There’s something to carry with you till your next adventure. Please keep in touch, Nolan.”

  “Of course,” he says, trying to regain his proper composure. “That’s what friends do.”

  Friend no longer seemed like a dirty word. Nolan and I had come to a place of understanding. A place of true friendship.

  I walk back to my car, and for the first time all afternoon, I let myself think about Carter.

  Part of me feels guilty that I tucked thoughts of him away to go to lunch with Nolan, even if it doesn’t make sense. But I can’t keep my mind locked for long. It makes me feel like maybe I’m tied to him deeper than I ever thought. That maybe having a life without him in it isn’t something I can do—or even want to try to do.

  He’s been in my life in some capacity for almost a year now—I’ve told him some of the most personal things under the security of night. Confessions and admissions that felt safe because they were cloaked in darkness. And now that we’re here—in the same place, it’s like the darkness was a blanket that’s been pulled off of us. We’re acutely aware of all of the flaws we hid for so long, trying to be the person that we thought the other needed, but all the while, hiding our true selves.

  We can see everything clearly and it’s scary as hell for the both of us.

  But maybe that’s okay.

  Once I find my car, I sit for a moment, wondering what my Mom could have sent with Nolan, but also, a little apprehensive about finding out. What if it’s the world’s tiniest hate mail crammed inside of this delicate box? What do I do with it if it’s an impersonal gift, like a keychain—proving how far the distance really is between me and my parents now.

  I open my glove box and shut it inside, deciding that I’ll open it tomorrow, or another day that I don’t feel so conflicted. As I’m slamming the glove compartment shut, I see a familiar face.

  Carter.

  Carter sitting on the curb… outside of a bar.

  I feel like I’ve been awake for days. Maybe I have.

  Everything since I left Tracey’s office has been a complete blur.

  I’ve been sitting on this damn curb for thirty minutes trying to decide if I should go in and get a drink or not. God knows I want one. Or eight. And what the hell does it matter if I do? Clearly I did my job better. According to my boss, I had more to show for my work day when I came in buzzed or hung over. Dream big, right?

  I close my eyes and try to remember the last time I slept. The memory hits me like a sucker punch to the gut—lying in bed with Shayna before everything went to hell. The warmth of her next to me. Feeling her legs wrapped around mine.

  I was so close. So damn close to having it all.

  If she just would have shown up on my doorstep a year from now when maybe I wouldn’t be right smack in the middle of figuring my own shit out. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so scared to screw things up with her and could have let her in from the beginning.

  “Carter?” she says. “Carter what are you doing? Are you okay?”

  I open my eyes and Shayna is standing next to me. Her face is pale and her lip trembles a little when she says, “Carter? Answer me!”

  Her eyes are frantic and searching mine.

  My throat feels thick. I try to swallow the guilt bubbling up.

  “Carter, are you drunk?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Not yet. Thinking about it though.”

  “What. The. Hell?” She clips each word in total disbelief. I can’t be sure but I swear she stomps her damn foot when she says it. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be hanging out outside of a bar, Carter. What the hell are you thinking?”

  “Shayna, I obviously didn’t expect you to be out here. Just go home.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Carter, I’m not leaving you here,” she slumps down beside me on the curb. “What the hell are you doing?”

  I work my jaw back and forth. “It’s been a pretty shit day.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I think I heard you wrong,” she says, her tone biting with sarcasm. “You’re having a bad day so you’re going to go in and drink away your sadness? How has that worked out for you in the past?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah? You look it.”

  “I didn’t go inside,” I say, feeling defensive.

  “Good. And you’re not going to. Let’s go.” Shayna tugs at my arm, but I don’t budge. “Don’t be an asshole, Carter, I said lets go.”

  “I said I haven’t had anything to drink. I can drive myself.”

  Shayna shakes her head and laughs.

  “Not a chance. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Get your ass up and let’s go.”

  I finally look up at her. Her tiny frame shouldn’t be intimidating at all, but the way she is glaring at me, her hands planted firmly on her hips, I figure I should listen before she causes a scene. Plus that, I may be in a bad place right now, but the thought of making her worry makes me feel like a total dick.


  “What about my Jeep?” I ask, following her to her car.

  “We’ll grab it later.”

  “Alright,” I say. I slide into the passenger seat of her tiny hybrid, remembering the first time I was inside her car. All I could think about back then was how badly I wanted to touch her, but legal or not, she was in high school—the timing wasn’t right. Guess that’s a reoccurring theme between her and I.

  Shayna backs out of the parking place and heads toward the freeway.

  “Where’re we going?” I ask.

  “Meetings held at the same place tonight?” she asks.

  “Meeting?” I repeat, like it wasn’t obvious.

  “Yeah, I’m taking you to a meeting, Carter. What’d you think, we were going to go to Olive Garden and talk about your day over all you can eat salad and breadsticks?”

  “That sounds delicious,” I mutter. The last time I ate was almost as long ago as the last time I got a decent night’s sleep.

  “Don’t be an idiot. This isn’t a joke.”

  It isn’t, and I know that because of the strong pull telling me there may still be a flask with booze in Shayna’s glove box. It’s an ache so strong I almost have to hold own arm down so that I don’t pop it open to find out.

  “Sorry to put you out like this,” I say.

  “You’re not putting me out,” she says. The panic in her voice that was there outside the bar has smoothed. “Besides, you helped me when I needed it. That’s what friends do, right?”

  “Friends,” I repeat back.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  I run my hand through my hair and think about where to begin, but all I really want to do is focus on how I don’t want to fucking be friends with this girl.

  “Shit went down at work. I may be let go.”

  “Ouch,” Shayna says, pulling off the exit toward the school the meetings are held at. “Anything you can do to fix it?”

  I shake my head. “Not sure. I don’t really know how to. I can put in more time, I guess. But really, I think I just sort of have to wait and see.”

  “Does—did you—”

  “Nah,” I say. “I wasn’t drinking at work or anything. Basically, I just should have kept better tabs on a flakey clients file than I did. It was my job to.”