Eleven

The rest of the week flew by after dinner with Devon. I wound up giving him my number, and we'd been texting all week. The only time we ever really sat down to talk was at night before bed, but throughout the day, we'd respond whenever we had a moment to. I looked forward to receiving texts from him. No matter what I was doing (besides drumming) or who I was with, if I could respond, I quickly would to keep the conversation rolling.

I didn't see him for the rest of the week. I wouldn't see him until Monday when Buddy and I met with Devon and his cousins at the batting range. I didn't care so much, but Buddy was relieved since there were a lot of rumors circulating about what I'd been doing with Devon. I never confirmed anything because it was all wrong, but I never tried to deny it either. Yes, I went out with Devon. Yes, we went out to dinner. No, it did not end with sex or anything remotely sexual. But did that stop people from thinking about it? No.

The looks Buddy gave me whenever Devon was brought up were getting worse, to the point where I was worried about how jealous he was. Nothing was going on between Devon and I, so he didn't have to worry about being replaced by a boyfriend or anything, but he also didn't have to worry about being replaced as my best friend, because no matter what happens in life, he would always be my number one best friend.

I hoped going to the concert would be a good way to get his mind off Devon. It would just be the two of us at a folk rock concert for a band I knew nothing about and didn't entirely care to learn about. But because Buddy loved them, I would go to the Golden Crows concert with him.

I dressed up in a Ghost t-shirt, a black skirt with white crosses on it, and a chunky belt with a crescent moon buckle. I pulled on my black nylons and tied up my maroon creepers before grabbing my black purse with a baby doll's face on it and metal band pins and patches. I knew it was the completely wrong look for a folk rock concert, but if I was going to be dragged along to it, I wanted to have a little fun. I was hoping to at least embarrass Buddy a little. It wasn't much, but it was our jobs to annoy each other whenever we had the chance. He had his video games, and I had my wardrobe.

"Going to a graveyard tonight?" Rick quipped as he flipped a burger on the stove.

"Going to a folk rock concert," I groaned.

"Oh, tell Buddy I said hi."

A car honked outside, and I said goodbye before leaving. As I approached the car, Buddy rolled down his window and said through a smile, "Really, Mel? Are you hoping to scare someone?"

"Why not? Maybe we can get closer to the stage this way," I joked as I sat in the passenger seat.

Buddy laughed. "You still look beautiful," he gently said before driving down the road.

That wasn't what I was expecting to hear. If anything, I was hoping for another crack. Now, he's called me beautiful before, but there was something different this time. Gentler. Sweeter. Was it supposed to be flirtatious? He was not the flirting type, or at least he wasn't supposed to be. Especially not towards me. Not unless he was joking around and being an ass. That was the only acceptable time to flirt.

But I knew he wasn't joking this time. No, he was being serious. There was something different about his tone that made it seem wrong. Not in an uncomfortable or unsettling way, but just in a way that didn't make sense for the relationship we had. It was too sweet. Too gentle. He needed to make a joke about me being the embodiment of an Edgar Allan Poe poem fast or else.

By the time we made it to the venue, it was obvious I was not dressed right for the concert. Buddy had to make some joke about me 'embarrassing' him or something, or how I'm going to be his bodyguard for the night to keep the unwanted away. Instead, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and walked into the building before paying for both our tickets.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing. Tickets are cheap here. It's on me."

"Really, I can pay." Or else it would feel like a date.

Oh, God, was this supposed to be a date? Was that why he said I looked beautiful? Why he was paying for tickets and keepings his arm wrapped around me? It couldn't have been. We weren't dating. We never would date. It wasn't something I could see in our future. Buddy lived up to his name for me. He was my buddy, and that was it.

"It's ten bucks. You paid that for lunch the other day. I've got this," he chuckled as he led us towards the middle of the room.

Tables were placed against the walls and near the bar, but the middle had a dip that was half a foot shorter and empty. Anyone could stand there and dance and talk. It wasn't packed yet, but once the show would begin, it'd be full.

I stood close to Buddy, listening to the music playing over the speaks, waiting. I didn't know how long the show would last for, but I was sure I'd be standing for the next two hours. Thank God I didn't wear heels.

I didn't care about the show, but a part of me wished that Devon could have been there with us. Not because it would impose on whatever date Buddy thought we were on, but because it was a normal thing for teenagers to go out to concerts in our town, and he needed to do more normal things. He deserved to go anywhere without people staring at him, waiting for him to snap and hurt someone. He should have been able to go out and enjoy live music. At least if he was into that sort of thing.

Then again, as I looked at Buddy, I wondered if I wanted Devon there to impose on this date. I didn't think of it as a date. This was just an outing with Buddy for me, but could he have been hoping this was? Dates were supposed to be enjoyable for both people, so he wouldn't have taken me to see Golden Crow. Unless he wanted me to experience something he enjoyed. I made him go to movies and concerts that I enjoyed. This was his turn to choose. If anything, this had to have just been his choice for an activity. I couldn't choose everything all the time, so I would force myself through the concert and keep a cheerful mind. Who knew, maybe I'd actually enjoy the music and become a fan like him?

"Did someone perform a seance in the bathroom?" a girl quipped behind me. I didn't look back, but I knew she was talking about me.

"Who actually leaves the house like that?" another added.

"And look at the poor guy she's with."

My heart pounded.

"There's no way someone like him would actually go out in public with her. He can't seriously be dating her."

And then his hand slipped into mine. Jerking my head to him, he smiled at me and squeezed my hand. No doubt he heard what the girls were saying, but which part was he responding to? The going out in public with me part? Or the dating me part? As far as I knew, he had no preference for a woman's style. As long as he liked her personality, he didn't care about looks. Goth, bohemian, preppy, it didn't matter. And it wasn't supposed to matter when it came to me. We were friends. He had no issue being seen in public with me. But if he was responding to dating me, I didn't like it. No matter how much I loved him, I had no feelings for him except the platonic kind.

Buddy leaned in close to my ear, whispering, "Ignore them. They aren't worth ruining the night over. Let's have a good time."

Smirking, I said, "I don't care what they think." Glancing back to meet their indifferent eyes, I added, "Even if it's true."

Though they may have rolled their eyes, there was still a bit of fear in them. It was that fear that was supposed to help me enjoy the concert and make it through a night of music that, I could admit, wasn't as bad as I thought it would be (the power of negative thinking; it always set the bar really low). But so long as Buddy held my hand, it was difficult to enjoy myself.

His hand burned into mine. I could feel it growing increasingly sweaty, but that didn't prompt him to pull away. Even if it was just for a second to wipe it off on his pant leg. He just held on tighter, singing along with a few songs. I could have pulled my hand away, but with such a cramped crowd, I knew I would instantly lose him. As much as I wanted to believe that was why he continued to hold on, I knew it wasn't true. He held onto my hand because he wanted to. Because he could.

The moment the concert ended, and we were outside, away from the crowd, I let go. I dried my hand off on my skirt, prompting Buddy to chuckle to himself. "Sorry. I thought I was going to lose you in there."

Sure. "Right."

He frowned. "Are you okay, Mel?"

No. I wanted to believe him, believe that he was just holding my hand for convenience, but I knew that was a big fat lie. He held my hand because he liked me. Buddy liked me. Did he think this was supposed to be a date? That thought alone made me ten times more anxious than I was on the way over, and I wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep.

"I'm fine. Can we go, please?" I asked, as I slammed the passenger door shut.

Buddy didn't say a word the whole drive home. When he pulled up in my driveway, he finally looked at me, and I finally looked at him. He fumbled with his fingers on the steering wheel as he figured out what he was going to tell me. Knowing it wasn't something I was ready to hear, I told him, "Goodnight," before opening the door.

"I love you," he quickly said, the same goodbye we told each other every day. This time, I couldn't say it back.

"Goodnight," I repeated before closing the car door and walking up to my front door, not once looking back at him.

I heard him pull out of the driveway as I locked the door, and I let out a loud groan before quickly shutting up. If Jeanie was recording, I didn't want to disrupt her.

"What's got you feeling melodramatic?" she asked.

I spun around, jumping when I noticed her sitting on the couch coolly as she drank some hot chocolate.

"You're out."

"I need a break. I close my eyes, and all I can see are people commenting." She sighed. "But it's all for a good cause."

"You are one of the top League of Legend players in the world," I said as I dropped next to her. "What are the asshats saying now?"

"The usual. 'Go in the kitchen and make me a sandwich', to which I reply, 'Go in the backyard and chop some lumber'. But then there are people who want to forfeit the game the moment the moment they hear me speak. People who judge me before we even begin the game. I'm the reason we win ninety percent of the time, but does that matter? No. Not when you're a woman."

"At least there are more female gamers playing who look up to you. So do a lot of professionals. We're glad to have you in the gaming world."

She chuckled as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder. "Thanks, babe. How was the concert?"

I groaned dramatically again and planted my face in her shoulder.

She laughed, "Okay, I won't ask."

"Jeanie?"

"Yes, Mel?"

"What do you do when you think your best friend might have feelings for you?"

She hummed, her grip tightening around me. "Well, I guess it depends on how you feel about him?"

"I don't want to be with him. I don't have feelings like that for him."

"Okay," she nodded. "Well, I don't know how much help I'll be. After all, I fell in love with my best friend. But I knew things would never work between us. I mean, he liked someone else. So whenever he did something that made me feel all giggly inside, I tried to play it off as cool. That way he would never know that I love him, and things would never become awkward between us.

"You could just ignore it and wait until he falls out of love with you. Or you can just be honest with him and let him know that you're not interested. There is nothing wrong with not being interested in someone who likes you. Him liking you does not automatically mean you have to like him back. And if he's an actual friend, he will understand that and respect your feelings."

I really wanted to tell her that Rick was also in love with her. Really, really wanted to tell her. But I knew that the two would eventually get over themselves and realize it. One of them would accidentally make a move, and then they'd have an awkward conversation about it and finally admit to their feelings. And as scared as I was to see them making out on the kitchen table, I knew it was inevitable.

But I also knew that Jeanie was right. If Buddy respected me and our friendship, he would understand that I did not feel the same way and respect my feelings.