Page 48 of Scream For Me
She shoots me a look. “He would be so lucky.”
“Okay, maybe he’s just pretending he’s dead.”
“Worse.”
I love my best friend in every single way, but there’s something about this vulnerable side to her that warms my heart.
“I thought he’d call last night,” Harper says eventually. “And then I was hoping for this morning. And then I thought he’ddefinitelycall on his lunch break.”
“Yeah, but did you specifywhichlunch break? Are you sure you meant today’s and not lunchtime in fifty years when he’s on his deathbed, realizing how he fucked up by letting you go?”
Harper huffs out a laugh and rests her head against my shoulder. “You’re the worst.”
I listen to her breath. It hitches slightly. Harper is the strong one in the group, she always has a smile and makes sure others have theirs. She will run herself into the ground before admitting she needs help—it’s her best and worst quality. Seeing her like this, obviously in pain, hurts.
“Have you tried calling him again?” I ask with concern.
“Obviously.”
“And?”
“He didn’t answer.” She sighs. “I feel insane, because I don’t want to be that bitch who double-texts, but I also don’t want to be the chill girlfriend who pretends she doesn’t care while he’s obviously fucking someone else.”
“Ah, yes,” I say, leaning back on my hands again. “The ancient paradox.”
Harper leans back on her hands and stares out at the parking lot. “I swear, if he’s just playing video games with the boys, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” I ask, playfully shoving her shoulder.
“I’ll be really annoying about it.”
We laugh together and stare out in comfortable silence. The air shifts as the sun dips lower on the horizon. The light turns warmer and the air turns colder.
“I think I want to dye my hair,” Harper says suddenly.
“Okay…” I blink.
“Like. Now.”
“Define now.”
“Tonight.”
I turn to look at her properly. There’s a glint in her eye that I recognize immediately. This girl needs a change, something that is within her control.
“What color?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Dark red? Purple? Something unhinged.”
“A bold move, Miss Milano.”
She grins, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I just need to do something. I feel stupid sitting around and waiting for him to remember I exist.”
I hum softly in agreement. I reach up and tug a strand of my own hair forward, inspecting the color out of habit. My roots are definitely due. I’ve been meaning to touch them up for days but keep putting it off with everything going on.
“Honestly,” I say, “I need to do mine anyway.”
Harper perks up immediately. “You do?”
