But then a further thought crosses my mind. It reminds me of why I left Portland in the first place, why I finally gave in to coming here for eight weeks. It’s because some people in Portland aren’t worth missing. I take a short breath before quietly murmuring, “Alyssa and Holly…were they there?”
“Yeah.” Silence ensues until I hear Amelia exhale, and when she speaks again, her voice is soft and quiet. “Don’t make it awkward for me, Eden. All three of you are my best friends, but it feels like I’m supporting both sides of the war fronts. It feels like I’m committing treason whenever I talk to one of you.”
I try to ignore the pain in my chest by ignoring her. “So were the fireworks good?” The enthusiasm in my voice sounds fake as I force a smile upon my lips.
“They were amazing!” Amelia squeals. She’s always been hyperactive, always getting excited over the simplest of things. “We had a bonfire after it. We were out all night, making s’mores and drinking beer and listening to music. I’m half asleep right now, so I don’t know if I’m making sense.” She pauses. “I hope I am.”
“You are,” I confirm as I press my back harder against the wall. I try to keep my thoughts from wandering. “The bonfire sounded fun.”
“It was!” More squeaks, more squeals, more heavy breathing. “Landon Silverman took me home.”
My eyes widen slightly. Landon Silverman is pretty damn hot. “The senior?”
“Yeah,” she sheepishly admits. I can picture her blushing, blinking repeatedly like she always does when she’s embarrassed or shy. But the shyness disintegrates as quickly as it arrived, and she nonchalantly says, “We got to third base in the back of his truck.”
I almost choke. If this is a joke, it isn’t funny. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I was,” she murmurs. “His package isn’t much of a package. And I had such high expectations. It’s a tragedy.”
“Sounds horrific, Amelia,” I say, stifling a laugh. She reminds me of Rachael. They have similar humor and similar hobbies involving males.
“What about you?” she pries, the curiosity dripping from her voice. “Canoodled with any Californian boys yet?”
“I did make out with this guy…” Off goes my pulse again, speeding up and beating rapidly beneath my skin. I take a deep breath. “Last night.”
Amelia almost bursts with excitement. “Oh my God, who?”
I hit a mental standstill. Do I tell her? Do I tell my best friend, the best friend who I tell everything to, about what happened with Tyler? I feel like I should fill her in so that I can hear her advice, but I just can’t force the words out of my mouth. This complication with Tyler feels too scandalous, too wrong. And I know that Amelia must surely feel my apprehension over the line, so I quickly blurt, “Some guy called Jake.” Nice save.
“Is he hot?”
I shrug to myself as I pull Jake’s face into my mind, analyzing his features and tilting my head while I decide. “Yeah. He’s blond.”
“Blond?” Amelia gasps in horror. “You’re canoodling with a blond guy?”
“Stop using that word,” I order through giggles. It is impossible to have a conversation with her without cracking a smile.
She takes a deep breath before yelling, “But you are literally canoodling with a blond guy!”
“How shocking,” I remark.
“Is that Californian water beginning to affect you? You hate blond guys,” she states as though I’m not already aware of that. She’s the one who prefers blond hair. “Do you want me to call your mom, because I honestly think you need medical assistance. What happened to ‘dark-haired guys are better’?”
I roll my eyes. “Are you still drunk?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Probably.”
And with that, I tell her to go get some sleep before bidding her farewell. She promises to drop by my house later to check on my mom, and I’m thankful. Mom’s probably feeling pretty lonely lately.
When I get off the phone, I decide to go for a run to clear my head. The weekend’s events with Tyler have left my head all over the place, and I feel an overwhelming sense of doubt. I don’t know what I’m doing and I really don’t know what I’m getting myself into. All I know is that it’s not simple.
I get myself dressed and tell Ella that I’m heading out, and I begin my jog south across the city for a change, instead of west to the coastline. The weather is gorgeous and the city is busy, but I don’t pay too much attention to the details. Normally I steal glances at people’s faces as I pass; I read license plates; I notice small independent stores that look interesting. But not today. Today, my thoughts are all about Tyler.
So while my mind processes one hundred and one fleeting thoughts at once, I somehow manage to conclude some specific facts about him:
(1) Tyler is a jerk; there is no doubt about that one.
(2) He is a jerk who has serious anger issues alongside possible behavioral issues.
(3) He’s only a jerk because he wants to be a jerk, because
(4) he’s definitely hiding something.
(5) His favorite hobbies include getting wasted and getting high.
(6) He has nice abs and I like the color of his eyes.