The Worst Best Friend: A Small Town Romance

“No clue...”

“A cornfield! Gotcha.”

That makes me sort of smile and wag a finger. “Dude, you’re way too young for dad jokes.”

“What did the right eye say to the left?”

I’m pinching my lips tight because I already know this is gonna be bad.

“What?”

He leans closer and whispers slowly, “Between us, something smells.”

Okay, I have to laugh at that. Best of all, he’s not done.

“Why didn’t the teddy bear want any cookies?” he asks.

“Why?”

“Because he was already stuffed!” He ribs me playfully in the side.

It makes me double over, kicking my feet at the ground.

“Guess what, I’m not stuffed with cotton or whatever,” he says. “Are you?”

“Nope,” I tell him, wiping my eyes.

“Well, come on then.” He stands up, holding out his hand to me. “Let’s go have some cookies.”

I hesitate, totally thrown by how easy it is to interact with this boy when he notices me.

“I’ll tell you more jokes if you do,” he promises, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh, man. You have more like that?”

“Yep, but I only share ’em with friends. Only people smart enough not to waste a good cookie.”

I’ve heard enough. I take his hand and lace my fingers around his.

Being called his friend makes me beam like the sun.

He holds my hand all the way to the house, and for some weird reason, that makes me giddy, banishing the sad thoughts like morning fog.

* * *

Present

My chest heaves with an achy sigh as the memory fades.

The feelings don’t go so easily, especially when I think, deep down, that was the day I started falling for Weston McKnight.

That was the day the die was cast, a silly crush setting me up for a comic tragedy of heartbreak.

Oh, there were times when he drove me batshit crazy, along with Marty. But that never changed how I felt about him. How the first flutter of butterflies at twelve turned into watching him like he hung the stars by sixteen.

The day after Marty said Weston was leaving, I knew I’d find him in the barn one more time. Somehow, it felt worse that he could give the cars a formal goodbye, but not me.

I couldn’t let him go without a final word.