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Oh.
Oh crap.
I might be the one to bring him up.
If I can find my closure through her without needing to confront him…well, I might just live happily ever after. With only minimal crying.
It’s too tempting to pass up.
“These are perfect. I love blackmail.” Her eyes sparkle, radiating such innocent joy I’m certain I misheard what she just said.
“He’s a cutie,” I say.
“Oh, the cutest.”
“Your kitty is cute, too. What’s his name?”
“Zylus.”
My brow furrows. “Zylus? Like the guy you were with before?”
She taps around, and I vaguely register her sending herself some pictures. “Yeah, exactly.”
There are weirder things than naming your pet after the guy you’re living with…I think.
Stuffing a bite of lettuce and feta in my mouth, I chew casually. “So…speaking about…guys.” Not my best segway. I get a D for transitions. My English teacher would be so disappointed in me. Then again, she’d already be disappointed in me for the fanfiction. So…
“Ollie,” Willow states.
My heart leaps, and I swallow the entire leaf too soon. Sputtering, I snatch a napkin and gracelessly hack half a lung into it.
Willow doesn’t even look up from my phone. “No, he doesn’t hate you.”
Is she a witch? I know I shouldn’t judge people based purely on what they wear, but now she’s reading my mind. Add in the fact her cat is trained, and it’s honestly not judgment at this point. It’s scientific deduction.
Her gaze lifts, calculatingly cool, in control, self-aware. Everything I wish I could be. “He doesn’t know what to do with himself right now, but that has everything to do with him, and nothing to do with you. Okay?”
“I…” My throat still feels raw from all the coughing, so I reach for my lemonade and try to wash down enough in order to speak normally. “I think maybe I came on too strong.”
“You didn’t.”
“I talked a lot. We talked a lot. About a lot of things. Stuff got personal, and I’m worried that maybe he thinks I’m trying to get between him and the girl he likes or something?” I stare at the ice in my weeping glass, wonder when it got so hot in here. “I’m not. I wouldn’t try to do that.” A pitiful laugh escapes. “I mean, really? How could anyone do that? I’m sure you’ve heard how he talks about her. No one could compete.” It hurts to swallow; I have no idea why. “I thought we could be friends and maybe I could help him work up the courage to confess to her. That’s all. I promise. But he hasn’t texted me back since we saw each other four days ago, and I’m scared that I’ve messed up.” I bite my tongue the moment I realize I’m doing it again. I’ve found someone who seems willing to listen, so I’m dumping all my problems on them.
Willow touches my hand, and inexplicable peace swells over me, keeping irrational tears at bay. “Brit. Listen to me. You haven’t messed up.” For two seconds, she’s incredibly sincere. Then she removes her hand, picks up her sandwich, and snips, “He’s messed up. Bad. Like a crazy straw.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah.” She takes a bite, munches, swallows, and licks her lips. “If you play bingo with insecurities, he’s got coverall on every card.”
“I know he’s got some self-esteem problems, but who doesn’t?”
Willow laughs. “It’s not that simple.” Sighing, she tears off a piece of bread and dips it in her salad dressing. “I wish it were that simple. Ollie’s not lacking in hubris. His insecurities don’t help the situation, but there is logic behind this madness of keeping his distance.” Her eyes roll toward me as she pops the bread in her mouth. “Being with him comes at a price.”
“The whole celebrity baggage thing?”
She watches me. “Sureee. Let’s put it this way: he loves the girl so dreadfully he simply cannot bear the idea that any harm might come to her through him.” She draws her finger down the table between us. “He doesn’t believe he compares to what she would have to give up in order to stay with him. This girl is where the years he’s spent finding his way into a lifestyle he feels comfortable in crumble.”
Air swarms into my chest, too warm still. “Then he needs a different girl.”
