THE EMPTY CANDY DRAWER felt like the last straw—the insult to top all insults—and it made me want to swear at something. So I screamed, “CRACKER JACKS!” at the top of my lungs and kicked the drawer repeatedly until it slammed shut again.
It had been a bad day; a bad day mounting a bad week and an even worse month.
Gavin Porter kept my emergency candy in the bottom drawer of his nightstand, and it was always stocked. Always, always, always. But today there were no Skittles, no Snickers, no Twizzlers or Jolly Ranchers or Tootsie Pops. There weren’t even any freaking candy corn, and that was just a travesty against God and all the baby angels in heaven because who the HELL would be desperate enough to eat a bag of candy corn? Me, apparently, a week ago when that was all that was left in there.
It wasn’t right. This couldn’t be happening.
It seemed like a small thing—the empty candy drawer—but it wasn’t. It was a symptom, not the diagnosis. The prognosis, really, because I could see that the end result was terminal for us. Gavin and I had been teetering on this point for what felt like a while now—felt like all my life sometimes—but we had only been wobbling before this. The empty drawer seemed like the final unbalancing act, somehow, like he’d just shoved me off the cliff.
And my God, did plummeting suck.
“Ah, baby,” Gavin came to an abrupt halt just inside his room, where I was still squared off with the nightstand even though it was clear that it was the victor. His regret painted the lines of his face in vibrant, precise colors. I could see the instant when he realized that he was in big trouble.
“I fucked up.” He proclaimed, completely unnecessarily. We were currently engaged in a Defcon-7 style meltdown, so I really didn’t need the benefit of his added confession as ammunition.
“I’m sorry, Elle. It’s on my to-do list, I swear,” and he actually floundered through his jean’s pockets until he produced a tiny square of paper that I had no doubt was said list. Not that I cared. “I just…”
“Haven’t gotten around to it,” I supplied, slowly nodding my head. Slowly accepting the sad, cold truth. “I get it.” Gavin Porter had forgotten about me.
For the first time in twelve solid years of friendship, he’d managed to shove me down to the bottom of his to-do list. And then forget. I had become an afterthought.
It was just some stupid candy… But it wasn’t. Not really. It was more than that—bigger than that.
“Well!” He perked up when I refused to say anything else, and just kept standing there with that dumbfounded look on my face. The shell-shocked, broken look, I’m sure. “Let’s go to the fucking grocery store or some shit. Fuck. ShopMart is practically crying my fucking name right now!” He smiled that Gavin smile that made my heart slip sideways every single time, and—darn it!—it still did it. My heart was a turn-coat.
I rolled my eyes at him. “I think I’ll just go home.”
“What the fuck! It’s movie night!” It was ridiculous how quickly his smile fell, how thoroughly the light dimmed from his eyes, and his whole demeanor dampened without anything about his stance even changing. And so frustrating that I couldn’t stop my chest from squeezing tight when it happened.
“Come on, baby, don’t leave! It took for fucking ever to get rid of Clay and Violet, and I haven’t really seen you all fucking week.”
The “f” word was Gavin’s thing. Avoiding it like the plague was mine. Well, that and candy.
I shook my head at him, annoyed with the reminder that we hadn’t spent any time together lately. It was his own fault. Just because he happened to get his roommates out of the house for a couple of hours to watch a movie with me did not suddenly make me beholden to his every whim. I didn’t owe him this movie night thing, even if it was a routine with us. He’d broken our routines enough that he had no room to complain.
“I queued a fucking Disney movie just for you,” he pleaded.
Before I could stop myself, I heard my mouth saying, “Well, maybe you should call Tyler.” And I kind of sneered her name as I said it. Which… oops. Yeah, Tyler was a girl. Tyler was Gavin’s girl, to be exact. And the sick, sad truth of it was that there was always a Tyler, even when she was named something else. The “f” word was Gavin’s thing and so were girls. Every fucking girl in town, it seemed, except me.
Not that, you know, I wanted that. Because we were friends, and had always been friends, and I’d thought we’d always be friends. But… Yeah.
Okay. I wanted more.
But mostly I just wanted him not to forget to refill my candy drawer whenever he got caught up with the next Tyler. Because I was his forever girl, not part of the revolving door of women that he dated, and I was not supposed to be the one that he forgot about. Not ever.
“Come on, Elle,” Gavin sighed. “She doesn’t want to watch this shit.” If it hadn’t been Gavin saying it, I might have stormed off without even responding. But it was Gavin, and I knew just what he meant. And he wasn’t insulting the kind of movies that I liked, not really, even though what he’d said seemed kind of harsh. For most people, swear words were a show of anger, but for Gavin they were a way of life. He was rarely angry, ever, over anything. That was just the way he talked, and this was just the thing we did.
He pretended not to like the girly stuff that I was into, and I let him get away with it because I thought that it was cute. Only, I was low on sugar and there weren’t any freaking Starbursts in the stupid candy drawer, and it wasn’t so cute without the glucose high.
I glared at him.
“Fucking fuck-cake, Elle!” Gavin exploded, catching my look with all the intended shade thrown. “For fuck’s sake! Let’s go to the fucking store and come back with the fucking candy and watch this fucking movie!”
That was a lot in a few seconds, even for him. I took it as an indication that he actually did feel bad. Which was good, because he should have.
“I don’t want to hang out with Tyler,” he explained, calmer, his shoulders easing as he spoke. “I want to hang out with you. You know I miss you. And I’ll be fucking miserable if you leave. So… Please?”
And just like that I melted. It was so easy for him, and stupid of me, I knew it. But I couldn’t deny him anything when he asked me like that, looked at me like that—his beautiful blue eyes all soft, and sad, and sweet. Besides, the thought that my absence could make him miserable assuaged a wound that I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge existed.
“Fine. But I get to eat as much candy as I want tonight. And you’re not allowed to complain if I hog the covers!” Yeah, I was such a tough negotiator.
“Hey!” Gavin still found a reason to protest, his forehead creasing in challenge. “Last time you pushed me off the fucking bed. That’s not the best wake-up call! You’re not just a cover hog, you’re a whole fucking mattress hog!”
I tsk’ed at him. “No complaining, Mister.”
Movie night always turned into a sleepover. It was a thing that we did… A very stupid thing, I guess, considering I couldn’t stop glaring at the idea of Gavin’s girlfriend also sometimes spending the night at his place. Much less innocently and much more naked… But hey, maybe I was a sucker for feeling miserable over my love life—or lack thereof. It certainly seemed that way sometimes.
“Fine.” Gavin heaved the weightiest sigh in the entire universe and even rolled his eyes, but I could see the little bit of amusement lingering in his expression as he slung an arm over my shoulders and dragged me away from my confrontation with his night stand. “I won’t complain.”
“And,” I hedged, inspiration suddenly striking me. “You’re not allowed to say fuck for the rest of the night!”
He tensed when I said it—the way he always did—and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, a trickle of satisfaction sliding down my spine as I looked at him. Here was a dirty little secret that Gavin didn’t think I knew: It totally turned him on when girls said swear words.
He cleared his throat. “How the fuck am I—” Gavin stopped himself with a quick shake of his head. “I mean… How am I supposed to go an entire night… Elle. You’re not fighting fair.”
“Nothing’s fair in love and war, cupcake.” I teased, regaining the perk to my step as we headed for the front door.
Gavin lived in a little off-campus house with his two roommates, Clay and Violet. Clay was one of the guitarists in Gavin’s band and Violet was just a girl who’d answered a roommate ad. Not a girl that Gavin was interested in, thankfully. Probably because Vi was a little bit on the crazy side, but probably mostly because Violet and Clay sometimes hooked up while pretending that they hated each other. And Gavin was too loyal of a friend to ever be interested in his friends’ girls.
“Well, is this love or war?” Gavin asked, just as his arm went from around my shoulders to around my waist, his hand resting against my hip like it was no big deal. Ugh.
It didn’t seem possible that he couldn’t hear the way my heart was slamming against my chest, or feel how tight my entire body had squeezed from the move. “It’s both, Gavin. Definitely both.”
If he only knew.
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