“You go on your date,” I said resolutely. “I’ll even help you choose a dress.”
“If you insist.” She smiled at me. “But you’ve got to give me a hand with this cooking.”
“Are you really going to cook those things?” I pointed to the mushrooms in her hand, my mortification probably written all over my face. I was standing a few feet away, yet I could still smell the unpleasant bouquet of hippie, old cheese, and gym socks. I hoped the stench would dissipate, because I wasn’t going to eat anything smelly. Besides, they looked so dark and wrinkled, I doubted they were edible at all.
Even Sylvie looked doubtful as she eyed the old mushrooms with the kind of disgusted expression she usually reserved for spiders or anything that had more than four legs, but she remained quiet.
“Not trying to say I don’t want you to do something nice for me, but maybe we could do Chinese another day? I’d kill for a pizza with cheese crust, pepperoni, onions, and black olives,” I said. “What do you think?”
“Thank God. Me too.” She looked genuinely relieved as she dropped the shriveled mushrooms. “I’d love ham and extra cheese. With lots of different toppings, right? I can wolf that stuff down like no other.”
I beamed at her. “Same as always.”
God, I loved Sylvie.
My gaze followed her as she got up and crossed the room. She was almost out the door when I called out, “Sylvie?”
She stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” I whispered. “You’re such a good friend. I have no idea what I’d do without you.”
A mysterious smile lit up her glossy lips. “I’m not a good friend.” I frowned and she let out a soft laugh. “A good friend knows about your best days, but a best friend has lived through all your worst. See the difference?” she whispered. “I’m your best friend, Brooke. Guys will come and go and break you in pieces, but I will always be here to mend you again.”
“Then you’re my Super Glue,” I said, laughing.
“Damn right I am.” She flashed another smile and picked up the phone to order our lunch.
The whole day passed in a blur. Sylvie tried to distract me with movies and food, but I constantly found myself checking my phone like an obsessive lunatic. Jett didn’t contact me. No calls. No messages. Nothing to indicate that he wanted to work things out. His indifference was a blessing and helped to put things in perspective, but even though I should have been thankful, it bothered me.
The more I pored over Sylvie’s words, the more I wondered what Jett had been doing at the club and what had stopped him from telling me the truth, and, of course, why my foolish brain couldn’t stop thinking about him. I cursed my weakness for him. Hour after hour, I wished my feelings for him far away, and they kept crawling back like ants to sweets.
I wanted to forget him, but at the same time, I wanted to hear from him. I wanted to see him in pain while wishing him nothing but the best. So many conflicting emotions twisted into an ever-present knot of contradiction and impatience.
I had to get a grip. And fast, before my life stopped belonging to me, and Jett became the sole focus of my attention.
At 6:45 p.m., Thalia picked me up from around the corner, the same place where she’d dropped me off before, and we made our way to Grayson’s studio. From the corner of my eyes, I glanced at her gorgeous, yellow, lacy dress, complete with stockings and black high heels. Her glossy, long hair was tied up in a complicated burlesque hairstyle, with beautifully defined curls and waves added to the sides and front, complementing her pretty face.
Something wafted from her, an air of confidence that brushed over me and made me feel different. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as I allowed her enthusiasm and congeniality to wash over me and make me feel at ease. Listening to her chatter, I actually looked forward to spending time with her.
Sylvie was the best friend who would always be there for me, and I usually loved her company, but at the moment, I welcomed the break. Sylvie was, simply put, a bit too much at the moment, with her constant probing and need for assurance that I was okay, especially when things couldn’t have been further from the truth. Thalia made conversation simple, and she had an easygoing attitude. She didn’t really know me, so she didn’t try see through the façade behind which I was hiding.
“How was your night with your special stranger?” she asked when we stopped to wait for a light to turn green. Her face turned briefly to regard me while her fingers kept tapping on the steering wheel to the music playing on the radio.