Page 11 of Ruin The Friendship
After getting ready to sleep, a weary sense of exhaustion settles through my body as I climb into my bed. The bed Fletcher bought me after college.
Everything that I have, I owe to him. He gave me a place to live, and he’s charging me way less than he should. He furnished this place, but he let me pick out things I liked, too, so we could make itourplace.
My parents wanted me to move back to my hometown after college, but I wasn’t ready to leave Minnesota. Fletcher is the closest friend I’ve ever had, and sure, people always assume we’re together, but it’s never been like that between us. He’s my person. Relationships come and go, but he’s always there for me, through good times and bad.
Will he be here for me now as I take on the next challenge in my life? I don’t doubt it for a second. He’ll be the cool uncle, the one to teach them how to skate, shout their name at hockey games, and be there to support me, too. I can’t ask more than that.
He needs to focus on his career, on his own life. I needto focus on mine, however that life may look in the near future.
My alarm blares,waking me from a deep and heavy sleep. I groan and rub my eyes, rolling over to shut it off. Why didn’t I take the whole day off again? Oh, right, probably because I didn’t think I’d get life-changing news the night before and have to rot in bed to process it all.
Work is the last thing I want to do right now, but at least it’s only a half day. I can make it through that. I sit on the edge of my bed, swallowing thickly as a bout of nausea hits me.
I take a few deep breaths until the sick feeling in my stomach passes. The clanging sound of pots and pans in the kitchen lets me know Fletcher is awake. They have an afternoon practice today, so he will be up and out the door shortly, and then off to Vegas tonight for his game tomorrow.
I head into the kitchen, where Fletcher has his headphones in, bobbing his head to the music. Sitting down on one of the stools at the countertop, I watch him. He’s always been so calm and collected. So confident in everything he does. It’s something I love about him.
Fletcher flips a pancake, drinks from the giant glass of milk on the countertop, and uses the spatula in his hand as a microphone. He mouths the words to whatever song is playing, swaying his hips to the beat. When he spins around and sees me watching him, his eyes bug out, and the highest-pitched screech I’ve heard from him pierces my eardrums.
“Lydia!” He rips out his headphones and takes deep, calming breaths. “What thefuckare you doing?”
I laugh, striding over to him. Music still blares from his headphones. “Just wanted to make sure you were awake. You know, it’s bad for your ears to listen to music that loud.”
“Yes, because my headphones are what will cause damage to my ears, not the extremely loud horn or cheering crowds every night for eight months of the year.” He narrows his eyes, pinching my arm.
“Hey,” I shriek, swatting him away. “Stop that!”
Fletcher reaches for me, spatula in hand.
“Don’t you dare.” I hold out my finger, pointing at him as I skirt away.
“Or what?” he taunts, taking another step toward me.
“Fletcher…”
“Lydi…” He launches toward me, but I dart out of his grasp.
“No!” I laugh, racing into the living room, laughing hysterically as he chases me. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of the black plastic spatula as it flies past me and hits the living room wall.
I rest my hands on my knees to catch my breath. “You know, it’s a good thing you don’t play baseball with a throw like that.”
“Oh, you’ve done it now.” Fletcher’s voice grows low and dark as he continues to saunter toward me.
I try to flee around him, but he catches me, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me.
We both laugh as Fletcher spins us in a circle until a clammy feeling breaks out on my brow, and a sick feeling rises in my gut. The dizziness is way too much, too fast.
“Put me down,” I yelp.
He sets me on my feet, resting his hands on my shouldersas I catch my breath. I cup my mouth, and the nausea intensifies.
“Are you okay?” Fletcher asks in a high-pitched voice.
I tip my head down in a nod, keeping my hand firmly over my mouth.
“What’s going on? Are you sick?”
I shake my head, taking slow, deep breaths. Once the worst of it has passed, I drop my hand. “I’m fine. The spinning made me dizzy, that’s all.”
