Page 23 of More For Me

Alex waves her off. “It’s fine. You’ve been handling all the customers while I’ve been in back. Take a longer break. I’m fine. Totally.”

Everly studies her friend. “Are you feeling okay? You’re seriously acting weird.”

I’m torn between wanting to groan and laugh helplessly. Alex is comically bad at this. Obviously, she thinks the park, fresh flowers and all, will be a more romantic place for us to share a coffee—which is something we do approximately seven times a week. We live in the same house, for God’s sake.

“Let’s just go,” I tell Everly. Alex is starting to turn red and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she suddenly blurted out the entire stupid plan. Girl is not good under pressure. “Don’t argue with a longer break.”

Everly shrugs, but she’s still eyeing Alex strangely as I guide her toward the door. I look over my shoulder as Everly passes me to go outside and glare at Alex. She shrugs then gives me an encouraging thumbs up.

God, I hate my life.

“So, how’s the day been?” I ask as soon as we’re outside, hoping to distract her from Alex’s weirdness.

“Really good,” she says, slipping her arm through mine. “I got a call about a custom gown for an engagement party.”

“That’s awesome.”

She grins up at me. “I didn’t even tell you the best part. The gown is for Juniper Cain.”

“Holyshit.” Juniper Cain is a member of one of the most influential families in the film industry. The Cains are Hollywood royalty. Unlike her twin brother, James, Juniper skipped the acting as a kid, but she released a movie last year. She was nominated for a freaking Golden Globe for her first role. All the tabloids are saying she’s going to be the next big thing, just like the rest of her family. “Juniper Cain? Really? That’shuge.”

“I know,” Everly squeals happily. “Do you know how many celebrities are going to be at this party?”

I chuckle. This is one of the things I love about this girl—she’s completely incapable of getting jaded. It doesn’t matter that her dad and uncles are some of the most famous musicians in the world. She’s been to award shows and industry parties. She’s met more celebrities over the years than I can even count.

But she still gets this excited, every time. Particularly when she has the opportunity to meet them through her own efforts, and not just because of who her dad is.

I can’t exactly be mad at Alex as we enter the park. It’s a perfect southern California day, the sky-blue overhead, the sun warm on our shoulders. Everly takes off her jacket before we take our seats on a bench and I studiously ignore the exposed skin revealed by her silky tank top.

“Okay, Alex was right. This is gorgeous.”

“Agreed.” I hand over her coffee then pull out napkins to spread on our laps. The cupcakes from this place are huge and always messy.

“So how was your day?” she asks. “How were the hellions?”

“Even more hellish than normal. I had to break up a brawl today.”

She gasps. “Really?”

“Okay, maybe that’s overstating it. But I did have to get in between two eighth grade girls about to throw punches over Ricky Morenz.”

She tsks. “It’s always so sad when girls fight over boys. I should come in and teach a seminar on the importance of banding together against the patriarchy. Chicks before dicks.”

“I’ll run that by the administration. And I’ll be sure to use that exact terminology. I’m sure they’ll love it for middle-schoolers.”

It’s a pretty typical day for us—food, laughing, and talking about utter nonsense. Basically the three things our friendship is based on. I always figured I could be happy with this. That I didn’t need more.

But lately it’s feeling harder and harder to keep from touching her the way I want to. She’s got a chocolate crumb near the side of her mouth and I feel like I’m going to lose my mind, I want to brush it away so badly. But then I would want to rub my finger over her lips and then—

Yeah. It’s getting more difficult.

I’m just about finished with my cupcake when my phone rings. “Your mom?” Everly asks, peering over my shoulder.

I nod, already bringing the phone to my ear, a tiny kernel of worry growing in my gut. “I need to get this.”

“Of course. Tell her I say hi.”

“Hey Mom. How’s it going?”

Her voice is gentle on the other end of the line. “I’m well, beta. How’s my boy?”

But the kernel of worry doesn’t dissipate. I’m pretty sure I’m picking up a note of sadness in her voice, try as she might to hide it. Or maybe I’m just projecting because I know what date is coming up soon.

It’s like this every spring, as my older brother’s birthdate looms closer on the calendar. The worst day of the year, as far as I’m concerned. But sitting here and feeling shitty isn’t going to keep the date from approaching. And it definitely isn’t going to help my mother.

What she needs is someone to cheer her up, someone who cares enough to try to make the heartbreak of this time of year just a little bit better. And that’s always been one job I’m more than happy to fill. So I take a deep breath, paste a smile on my face, and start talking.