Page 5 of The Crafting Con

I try not to gag.

I fail, miserably.

“Whatever, Mr. Props Are My Life,” Bailey scoffs, a teasing smirk dancing across her black-stained lips. “Just wait until you have a girlfriend someday. You are going to eat those words so hard.”

“Um, excuse me?” I tear off a section of sandwich and wave it at her face. “I’ve had girlfriends.”

“Girlfriends?” Zeke’s smirk is scarily similar to Bailey’s as the pair of them stare me down. “Or girl friends? Because I’m pretty sure the ladies from your mom’s book club don’t count.”

The hunk of blindingly orange cheese and soggy bread flies from my fingertips. Its intended destination: Zeke’s stupid face. Unsurprisingly, given my lack of athletic prowess, it veers wide and smacks straight into the passing brick wall that is Tyler Denning.

The Greek-god-in-training stops, his blue-eyed gaze swinging to meet mine as he plucks the greasy blob from the shoulder of his lacrosse jersey. I cringe at the oily mark it leaves behind.

I am so dead.

“Sorry. I, um, was aiming for him.” I nod at Zeke while summoning my best apologetic grimace. Mentally, I begin flagging my possible exit routes should I need to make a break for it. Lo and behold, however, the golden boy jock merely laughs and tosses the offending sandwich glob onto my tray.

“No worries. Might wanna work on your aim, though.” He does that universal dude bro chin up gesture that popular guys are always giving each other before sauntering off without another word. No threats to my life, no complaints about his soiled clothing. Dude couldn’t have been more chill if he tried.

“Now that”—Bailey jabs a fry in his direction—“is a class act. Bet he doesn’t get weirded out by his friends’ extremely mild PDA.”

I frown, even as I silently agree with her. “Of course he doesn’t. He’s too busy juggling his own PDAs.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure he’s single,” Hiro interjects, plucking the now-infamous piece of grilled cheese off my tray and holding it up. “You gonna eat this?”

“Gross, dude. No.”

He shrugs and tosses it in his mouth.

I shudder. Apparently, all of my friends are out to make me nauseous today.

“Word on the street is he has his eye on someone, but they’ve yet to make it official,” Hiro continues, and something about the way he looks at me when he says this has the hair on the back of my neck prickling to attention. Like he’s watching to see how I’ll react. But why would I care who Golden Boy likes?

Bailey leans across the table, brows waggling. “Ooh, spill the tea, Hiro. Who among us has finally managed to snag the elusive, golden unicorn?”

“Okay, starting to get a little jealous here,” Zeke mutters, but Bailey shushes him, her focus never leaving Hiro’s face. Which is still turned toward me. Guarded. Calculating.

My chest tightens, and suddenly I really want him to just keep his mouth shut. Not to stir the pot. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it…

His mouth opens, but I can barely hear him over the rush of wind in my ears. It doesn’t matter. I can read the name as clearly as if it was announced over the PA system. It falls from his lips, settling in my stomach like a stone.

Ava Aimes.

Beautiful, laughing Ava Aimes, pink streaks dancing through her blonde waves as she swings beside me. Her freckled face lifted to the sun, lips curved in an infectious smile. A smile that melts into tears when the scene changes, the tiny playground growing dark and rainy. Her hair plastered to a pale, drawn face. Lip trembling as she twists the green-and-pink woven bracelet that matches the one hanging around my own wrist.

I’m sorry, Declan, but I… I can’t be your friend anymore.

Nine years of friendship flushed down the toilet with a simple I can’t be your friend anymore.

I taught that girl how to make fart noises with her armpit, for crying out loud. I deserved better than that. Surely it wasn’t all one-sided…

Was it?

“Dec?” Someone touches my shoulder, and I snap back to the present to find my friends staring at me with mixed degrees of concern. Hiro drops his hand, but his rounded face remains sympathetic. “You okay?”

I blink, wishing I could slap myself without being obvious. What the hell is wrong with me? I couldn’t care less who Ava goes out with. I mean, we’ve barely even looked at each other over the past five years. Her love life is of zero consequence. I paste a look of indifference on my face. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

My friends exchange silent glances, and a spike of irritation shoots through my system. It grows stronger when Bailey bites her lip and says, “Well, you know. Because… Ava.”