Page 78 of A Little Jaded
“You sure you’ll even remember the story at that point?” I tease.
She smiles around her straw. “I don’t drink, so I think I’ll be fine.”
My brows jump. “You don’t drink?”
“Nope.”
“Good for you.”
“Meh. Don’t be too impressed,” she teases, heading toward one of the open booths as we trail behind. Once we’re all settled, she adds, “I have epilepsy, and alcohol can be a trigger, so…yay me.”
Tilting my head, I look at her again with newfound curiosity. The way she threw it out there so casually. Like we’re talking about the weather instead of a pretty serious neurological disease. I’ve never known anyone with epilepsy. To be honest, I don’t know much about it, in general. Seizures and…sensitivity to light? Yeah. That’s about as deep as my knowledge goes.
“You have epilepsy?” I ask.
With a syrupy sweet smile, she says, “Yup.”
“I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t.” She shrugs and takes another sip of her Diet Coke. “Usually, it’s not a big deal, but if I decide to drop to the ground and start convulsing, maybe call my brother.”
A surprised laugh slips out of me, and I shake my head, blown away by the girl’s nonchalance over the whole thing. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
She grins back at me. “You’re a peach.”
Looking at Ophelia, I hook my thumb toward her best friend and ask, “Does she always talk this candidly?”
Ophelia leans closer and drops her voice as if we’re discussing conspiracy theories. “You have no idea. Speaking of which,”—she clears her throat and palms her glass, giving Finley a pointed look—“I’m ready for all the reasons why we hate Drew.”
“Only I’m allowed to hate Drew,” Finley defends. “Because on the off-chance I don’t rip his balls off and, instead, decide to marry him, I still need you ladies to be my bridesmaids one day.”
“We’ll be your bridesmaids regardless of who the groom is,” Dylan chimes in. “Now, what happened?”
Digging through her purse, she pulls out her phone, unlocks the screen, then slaps it on the table. “A girl tagged him on Instagram.”
I lean closer to look at the photo. They’re at a bar. Her arms are looped around his neck, and his hand is on her waist as they smile at the camera. It isn’t completely incriminating, but it’s enough to make a person pause, especially a girlfriend who’s across the country from her boyfriend starring in said picture. And if I had to guess? That’s the problem.
Ophelia and Dylan share a grimace and push the phone back to Finley.
“Did you ask him about it?” Dylan questions.
“Yes,” Finley huffs. “He swears they’re only friends, and maybe they are, but…”
“But something feels wrong,” I finish for her.
Swirling the straw in her drink, she nods slowly. “Yeah. And I don’t know if it’s in my head or if it’s real, but when I asked if he wants to take a break, he got pissed at me for even mentioning it, promising he loves me and only me, and he’s been nothing but loyal the entire time we’ve been together, and it would be nice if I could show some trust instead of freaking out over nothing.”
Ophelia gasps. “He said all that?”
“Yup.” She pops the ‘p’ at the end and leans in for another long drink of Diet Coke.
Lia’s lips bunch as she watches her best friend from across the table while I ask, “Do you believe him?”
“Iwantto believe him. I mean, he’s been busy, but I’ve been busy, too, you know? I’m not stupid. I know a relationship goes both ways.” She hesitates as if she’s replaying her conversation with Drew for the hundredth time. After a minute, her face scrunches. “God, and then he accused me of having feelings for Griffin. Can you believe it? He said if I can post pictures of me and Griff, he should be able to post pictures of him and his”—she lifts her hands and does air quotes—“friendwithout feeling like I’ll jump down his throat.” Her eyes go hazy, and she sucks her lips between her teeth. “And then, I’m like…yeah. He’s got a point, you know? I hate when he gets all weird and jealous whenever I talk about me and Griff, but we’ve been friends for forever, so it’s not like I can just…cut him out.”
“Is Drew asking you to cut my brother out of your life?” Dylan demands.
Finley’s expression falls, and she twirls the straw in her glass again, unable to meet Dylan’s gaze, and I swear I canfeel the shift in the air. The heaviness of it. The resignation. “Maybe.”