“Don’t call him that,” I scoff.
She gives me a patronizing look. “You might be blind to it, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you. nbsp;I don’t know what kind of freaky voodoo love spell you’ve put him under but it must be strong as hell.”
“You know I haven’t put him under a love spell,” I grumble.
She lifts a brow. “You barely know the guy and yet you both act like you’ve been in love for ages.”
“We’re not in love,” I defend. “But …”
“But what?” she prompts.
“He’s different.”
“Ugh.” She rolls onto her back and sits up. “How would you know? He’s the first guy you’ve ever taken interest in.”
My cheeks heat at her condescending tone. Like somehow because I haven’t been around a few times I don’t know what I’m talking about.
“That’s not fair and you know it,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “Besides, I’d hardly count you as qualified. Losing your virginity to our junior year fill-in math teacher doesn’t mean you know any more than me. In fact, I think it means less, because you’re always looking for love in the wrong places.”
She breathes out heavily, her eyes brimming with hurt.nbsp;
“Meredith,” I breathe out, instantly feeling bad for all the words that spilled out of my mouth. Words that have hurt and cut her deeper than any others, words that I cannot take back now that they’re out there. “I’m so sorry.”
She stands. “I’m going to get ice cream.”
Her hair swishes over her shoulders as she walks away from us.
Harlow lets out a low whistle. “That was harsh.”
“I know.” I frown, hurting as deeply as my friend. I can’t believe I said that to her. She’d gotten under my ski and the venom had come spewing out. Why is it that the ones we love the most are the ones we invariably hurt the most?nbsp;
“She’ll get over it,” Harlow promises.
“I know,” I say again.
As best friends we fight, we make up, we move on. It’s what we do. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less when we’re on the outs.nbsp;
“I’m going to go walk for a bit,” I tell Harlow, standing and brushing sand off my shorts. Even with a towel spread out, it still manages to get on my butt.
“Okay,” she agrees, knowing I want to be alone.nbsp;
I head toward the ocean and then walk along it, watching how my shoes get stuck in the wet sand. My long blonde hair swirls around my shoulders from the breeze. I bat it away like it’s a nuisance. My stomach feels like a heavy pit as I play over what I said to Meredith. I could smack myself in the head for my stupidity. Meredith might not readily air her insecurities, but as her best friend, I’ve taken notice. And when it comes to guys, she always picks the wrong, most unavailable guy, like she’s purposely looking for heartbreak. I know she sees what she does to herself, but she also seems helpless to stop it. I know I’m not in love with Jasper, not yet at least, but I wish Meredith could find someone she connects with like I do with him. I wish she’d realize that’s more special than someone showering you with gifts so they can get in your pants.
But some things you just can’t tell a person and they have to eventually learn it for themselves.nbsp;
I’ve been walking for at least ten minutes when a voice calls out to me.
“Willa! Hey, Willa!” I look around wildly expecting to see Jasper and instead my eyes land on Spencer, waving as he jogs toward me.
“Hey,” he says, falling into step beside me, not a bit out of breath.nbsp;
“Hi,” I say, my voice rather glum.
“Are you okay?” he inquires, picking up on my tone.
“Fight with Meredith,” I supply with a shrug that says whatcha gonna do?
“Ah, I see.” He nods, his shaggy hair blowing away from his forehead. “I was looking for Harlow,” he admits.nbsp;