By the time I return from my run the following day, the decision is made that the girls and the guys are to hang out separately. I’m not sure who exactly made this decision, all I know is that I’m against it. Tyler, Snake, and Dean head off to some vintage car show just outside of the city, while the rest of us head out to Times Square. Again, I have no say in the matter, and when I try to object to the plans that have been arranged for me, I get absolutely nowhere. Even Emily is hesitant about spending the afternoon with Rachael and Tiffani.
And so, for the several hours that we spend making our way around Times Square, Emily and I linger at the back. I can’t even look at Tiffani, let alone talk to her, so I keep my distance at all times. Sometimes when she and Rachael dart into stores, Emily and I don’t even join them. We stand outside, musing to each other, hoping that neither of them will notice our absence. Besides, I’ve visited Times Square a lot over the past four weeks, so the novelty has worn off by now, and it has for Emily, too. After all, she’s lived in New York for over a year. For Rachael and Tiffani, however, Times Square is as fascinating and as mesmerizing to them as it was to me the very first time Tyler took me here. For that sole reason, I don’t mind when they stop every so often to take pictures.
“Does she seriously walk like that or do you think she does it on purpose?” Emily asks under her breath as we follow our two companions along Forty-third Street. The gap between us and them is slowly increasing, and Emily tilts her head to one side as she studies the way Tiffani walks. She struts like she’s on a mission.
“On purpose. She never used to walk like that,” I murmur back, careful not to be heard. I don’t think it’s possible that they could hear our conversation even if they tried to, because Times Square is as loud and as buzzing as ever. “You know, she was actually nice when I first met her, and then it all went to hell.”
“What happened?”
“Long story,” I say. I don’t think I could explain it even I tried to. So, Emily, Tyler broke up with her for me! Yeah, right. As if I could say that. “And don’t say you have time, because I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“I wasn’t going to push it anyway,” Emily says, and when I glance sideways at her, it suddenly occurs to me that I’m choosing to be with her instead of Rachael, my best friend. I feel guilty for disliking Emily to begin with, but that was before I knew there was nothing going on between her and Tyler. Now I’m starting to consider her a friend, and our mutual dislike of Tiffani is a surprisingly great way to bond.
Only minutes later, Tiffani disappears into the Brooklyn Diner while Rachael lingers at the door, waiting for us. It’s almost three now and we haven’t had lunch yet, so we don’t mind stopping. It gives us a break from dashing between stores.
We’re given a booth over in the far corner, right by the windows, but Tiffani’s shopping bags take up half the space on their side. I sit by Emily, of course, and I ensure that I’m opposite Rachael. Tiffani’s diagonal to me, which helps because the only way I can see her is if I look out the corner of my eye, which I don’t. I set my eyes on the table and nothing else, fumbling anxiously with my hands in my lap.
All three of them take a while to study the menu, yet I don’t bother to pick one up. Rachael notices after a couple minutes, and her eyes narrow at me over the rim of the menu in her hands and she nudges me under the table with her foot. I promptly ignore it, shifting my gaze to the window to watch the flow of Times Square instead. The locals weave their way through the slow-paced tourists. The tourists don’t even seem to notice that they’re blocking the sidewalks as they come to a halt to study maps, to take pictures, to most likely ask their partners which direction they should head in next. Even from inside, I can feel the locals’ frustration.
“So you’re from England?” I hear Tiffani ask Emily. I prop my elbow up on the table and rest my chin in my hand, still staring out onto Forty-third Street. I do, however, keep listening.
“Yeah,” Emily says, voice wary. “Just outside of London.”
“Were you living here before or did you move over just to take part in the awareness tour thing?”
“I came over for it,” Emily says quietly, keeping her replies as short as possible. I don’t think she’s particularly in the mood for a conversation with Tiffani. I can’t blame her.
“So you were abused?”
My jaw falls open the moment the words leave Tiffani’s lips. I’m so shocked that it’s enough to make me spin my head around to look at her in disbelief. She’s blinking at Emily, lips pressed firmly together as she awaits an answer.
“Tiffani!” Rachael gasps, horrified. “That’s so insensitive.”
“It was just a question,” Tiffani says as she throws Rachael a sideways glance. Her eyes settle back on Emily, and she shrugs. “So? Were you?”
“She doesn’t have to answer that,” I say stiffly, narrowing my eyes across the table straight at Tiffani. I don’t want to draw her attention, but she’s crossing the line.
Tiffani’s gaze flashes to mine. “Shouldn’t you be choosing everything you’re gonna eat instead of butting into conversations?”