Betting on You

As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, my phone buzzed.

I almost ignored it for multiple reasons. First, I knew it would be my mom, and I was too tired to deal with her. Clark was in her ear all the time with parental advice, so it’d become commonplace for her to text me about ways I could be a better son, a more thoughtful brother, and a fucking productive tenant.

Thanks but no thanks.

Second, my shift started in two minutes, so just answering the text was guaranteed to make me late, and I didn’t feel like being late on day two.

Still, I took out my phone and checked the display.

Becca: Can I call you?Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

“Fuck,” I said under my breath, leaning my head back on the driver’s seat and trying to figure out how to answer that question when my pulse was out of control. It was idiocy, but just seeing Bec’s name pop up on my phone sent my vitals spiraling every time.

No. What do you need? That would be the intelligent response, the way to avoid getting sucked back into the Becca vortex, but I wasn’t intelligent.

No, when it came to Bec, I was the world’s biggest dumbass.

I hit the call button and waited for her to answer, wondering what she wanted to talk about. We’d broken up a few months ago, but she still randomly texted me when I was “on her mind” or something reminded her of me. So even though we weren’t anything anymore, and last I’d heard she was talking to Kyle Hart, I found myself having hours-long random text exchanges with her every couple weeks.

“Hey, you,” she answered, her voice quiet. She wasn’t allowed to do anything on Sundays because her parents called it a family day, so I imagined she was still in bed. “I was dying to talk to you. I’m so glad you called.”

I looked through the windshield and watched a group of Red Dwarfs walking into the building together. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat and said, “I don’t want this to sound weird because it’s obviously no big deal at all, but you haven’t told anyone that we still talk sometimes, right?”

Fuck. I dragged a hand through my hair and said, “Right.”

“Good,” she said, relief in her voice. “Kyle said something last night that made me realize that people might get the wrong idea. You know, if they knew we still text.”

“Ah,” I said, unable to come up with anything else.

“No one understands that a guy and a girl can be friends and that’s it—just friends,” she said, sounding entirely happy as she rambled in that way I’d always found adorable. “Why can’t we normalize guys and girls having platonic friendships with each other?”

Because they don’t exist.

“Listen, Bec, my shift starts in a minute so I have to go,” I said, taking the keys out of my ignition and feeling like a fool. I knew—I fucking knew—that relationships and love were sinking ships of bullshit, but for some reason, that knowledge went out the goddamn window every time I engaged with Becca.

“Oh, okay,” she said. “Well, have fun at work.”

“Sure,” I said, opening my door.

“And please don’t tell anyone about—”

“Bec.” I said it through gritted teeth, less upset than just… done. Just fucking done and exhausted with motherfucking emotions. “Got it.”

I shook my head as I disconnected the call, because it sucked being right all the time. Bailey thought I was a cynical asshole, but the truth was that she was just further behind me in line. Eventually she’d get to the front and see it all, and I kind of envied that she wasn’t there yet.

I kind of wished she could stay back there forever, blinking fast and clinging to her blissful notions.

I popped a TUM as I headed for the building, counting on the sheer idiocy of my new job to make me forget about life.