“
He wants to meet you—her,” Alex says. “Holy shit.”
Ed straightens, turning around to tug on his hair. “If I don’t say much it’s because I’m screaming inside.”
“Okay, this doesn’t have to be that big a deal.” Alex looks up at Ed, confused.
Sweet, breezy Alex.
But sweet, emotional Ed drops into a chair and wipes his palms on his robe-covered thighs. “It is a big deal, though, Alex, since these are our best friends, and one of them has been lying to another. Not to mention the tiny fact that both of us knew. We’re aiders and abettors.”
“Not helping.” I whimper and sink deeper into the cushion. The beads in Ed’s cheap beanbag choose this moment to shift underneath me, folding me in half and causing me to roll awkwardly to the floor. I land on my face with a groan. And remain there.
“Oh, that’s just sad.” Alex lasts about five seconds before bursting out laughing.
At least Ed takes pity on me. “Come on,” he says, and offers me a hand. “Let’s get you up.”
“Leave me,” I mumble from the floor. “This is where I belong.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” Ed bends one knee to kneel near me, and I squeeze my eyes closed as I get an eyeful of vague dickness up his robe.
“You mean, I’m being too dramatic about Reid having feelings for a version of me who doesn’t exist? Or am I being too dramatic about the reality that he thinks I’m emotionally barren? I mean, let’s not forget I basically catfished my best friend.” I push to sit up. “Who does that? I didn’t even really know what that was a few months ago. I thought it was just a show on MTV.”
Ed, thankfully, moves to drag a milk crate across the floor to use as a seat. “Please take this the way it’s intended, because you know that I love you, but what did you expect to happen?”
When I whimper instead of answering, Alex has no problem hopping in: “This. This is what happens. Secrets are cancerous.”
“Thanks, Alex.”
He shrugs. “Someone’s got to be straight with you, and who else would do it?. We’re your only friends.”
“I have other friends,” I say, indignant.
“Who?” Ed asks, quickly adding, “Baristas don’t count.”
“What, you want names?” I try to laugh but it comes out wheezy. “I have lots of names. Like, all my friends at work. And my sister.”
“A sister we’ve never met, and who you never talk about,” Ed reminds me.
I open my mouth to argue, but there’s nothing but dead air.
”
”