Page 35 of All That Glitters

“Is this what it feels like when I interrogate all of you?” I ask.

“Yes,” they all say in unison.

I groan. “Fine. I suppose it’s only right that I suffer this way.”

Jasmine laughs. “Sharing isn’t as bad as you think.”

“It’s worse,” Aurora says, making me snort.

“I don’t know why you all agonize over this sort of thing,” Saylor chimes in. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“That’s because you’re a chronic oversharer,” I reply.

“Only with you guys, because you’re my friends,” she defends. “And maybe sometimes other people, but only if they seem like they need me to share to feel less alone.”

“The guy who works at the smoothie counter did not need to know about your parents’ divorce,” Aurora says dryly.

“He was having a hard day, and I wanted him to know I’ve had those too,” Saylor says, like it’s perfectly reasonable.

“Then you tell him about a flat tire or a bad grade on an exam, not your family history,” I say with a laugh.

“Okay, enough talking about talking,” Jasmine interrupts. “Tell us what happened with Jameson.”

My friends quiet down. I stare at the ceiling, not wanting to see their reactions when I tell the story.

“It was a Friday night after a big exam,” I begin, going back to the day in my mind. “We used to get ice cream floats after exams and papers, really to celebrate almost anything. After we ate and had our floats, Jameson drove me to this spot by a lake that we loved. Neither of us wanted the night to end, I guess. It was always that way with us.”

My eyes fall shut. I can still smell the magnolias. Feel the late-spring breeze on my skin.

“We grabbed a blanket from his truck and lay down in the grass. Talked about the future, about all the things we wanted to do once we were in college together.” My eyes sting as I recall our bucket list. “I turned my head on the blanket, and Jameson was staring at me. There was something different in his eyes. It’s not as if I hadn’t thought of him in a romantic way before. He’s gorgeous—all the girls in our school thought so. But I thought he saw me as a sister.”

I blink open my eyes. A tear slides down my cheek.

“He brushed back my hair and I knew. I knew he wanted to kiss me but was afraid to. So, I kissed him.” I whisper the last part of my confession. “It was perfect in every way, until it wasn’t.”

Jasmine reaches out and grabs my hand for support.

“I freaked out afterward. I told him we shouldn’t have done that and that I didn’t want to talk about it ever again. I made him promise not to bring it up.”

My chest caves in as I remember how heartbroken he looked, yet resigned. Almost as if he’d expected it. Maybe that’s why he was scared. He knew it would end badly.

“A few weeks later, I thought we were close to getting back to normal. Then I went over to his house to find his mom making homemade chicken pot pie. She only ever makes it for special occasions, so I asked what we were celebrating.”

My throat tightens. Jasmine squeezes my hand.

“The internship,” Saylor finishes.

I nod, using my free hand to wipe beneath my eyes.

“He tried to explain, begged me to talk to him, but why would I bother? Everything was ruined the night we kissed, and this solidified that. You can’t kiss your best friend and move on. We were bound to separate at some point.”

“I’m sorry, Marigold. That must have been terrible to go through,” Saylor says. “Do you really think that even if the internship hadn’t happened you two would have ended?”

“It’s hard for me to believe any differently,” I answer. “But it doesn’t matter anyway, because he did betray me.”

I can feel my friends staring at me. I wonder if they’re questioning my logic. I’ve been questioning it some too lately, but it’s hard to look at the situation in a new light when it feels like everything is cast in shadows.

“So what about tonight?” Jasmine asks gently.