"Best Friends"

Chapter Three

“You don’t usually wear necklaces that long,” Jonah comments as I pull out the sofa bed in his room.

It’s still under my shirt, but the pendent is pressing against the fabric. “It’s new.”

“Birthday gift?”

I nod slowly, letting myself get really focused on the fitted sheet.

“From your parents? Oh gawd, please do not tell me it’s the letter ‘C’ is it? That’s so cheesy! No wonder you’re hiding it.”

“I’m not hiding it,” I snap before I can stop myself.

He c***s a sculpted brow. “Oh? Show me then,” and he holds out his hand.

Would he recognize it? Even if he did, would he say anything? Did he know Clark had had the necklace? Would he even know if it’s the same one? I can’t not show Jonah though, he is basically my personal stylist - never caring that he would wait the women’s changing room to see each and every piece we agreed on for me to try.

I come over and delicately pull the chain out from my shirt, but not taking it off. Jonah cups it in his palm and I can’t read him at all. Even if he did recognize it is clear he isn’t going to comment. He tilts his head a little and says “Cute… vintage… totally you. Maybe get a shorter chain though,” and drops the heart against my chest

“Maybe.”

Distant, he shrugs and leans back against his wall of pillows. “What time did we tell people to start coming over tomorrow?” he then yawns.

Medicine kicking-in like I am hit by a train, I almost fall into the pull-out bed. “Two?” I yawn back.

“Right. It’s almost one now… eight hours for you is nine, though let’s be real, you probably won’t get out of bed until eleven. Getting ready… yeah…” with an inhale, and then “two’s good,” through another yawn.

“Mhm,” I hum sleepily.

“Goodnight, Candi,” he laughs.

I shove my hands up in a heart.

More laughter but then I’m fast asleep.

Groaning, I throw my arm over my eyes. We’d totally forgotten…. “Jonah,” I wine.

I could hear him moving around already and there’s a shuffle of fabric and then the curtains closed.

I curl around my pillow. “Thank you.”

There’s a soft chuckle, and right before the click of the door I hear, “No problem, Candice.”

My eyes snap open and I stare at the door. But I am alone in Jonah’s room.

“You should probably take off the necklace. You don’t want to damage the metal,” Marie comments.

My fingers had been dragging the heart softly up and down the chain as I look unseeing across the patio, across the pool. “Yeah, totally.”

There’s a huff laugh, and she nudges my arm. “Candi, what’s going on?”

I blink and look at her. “What? Nothing.”

Her thin but fashionable eyebrows lift, and she purses her lips. “Uh-huh. If I didn’t know any better that was a gift from your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

She lifts a hand, “Ex-zact-lee,” she sings.

Everyone knows I’d had only one boyfriend, from the end of eighth grade to the start of ninth. Everything was fine until he didn’t show up to dinner before Freshman Homecoming, breaking up with me over text, and that had been that. I’d gone on two dates between then and now, but I guess my crush on Clark is so bad that no-one seems to be more significant. But then again, it had been Clark that showed up to Homecoming - even though he’d made a huge deal of how lame it was - and stayed by my side the whole time. He instantly filled that place in my heart and never left.

I take off the necklace and put it on my phone on the outdoor-kitchen’s bar. “You’re right; I don’t want to damage the metal.”

“It’s gold, isn’t it?”

“I think so.”

We walk towards the edge of the pool; she makes a face “They didn’t tell you?”

“Hm? They who?”

She rolls her eyes. “The person that gave it to you.”

“It’s antique…?”

“Oh! Cute. Probably gold then, yeah.” Then she starts smiling, her eyes over my shoulder. Before I could turn, though, I’m lifted off my feet.

I wriggle and push against the shoulder of the guy carrying me, “No, no, no!” I squeal.

Seeing the dirty-blonde hair though, I start laughing while faux-fighting. “Clark! Clark, please! Put me down!”

His chuckle rolls off his chest and he says “Alright, Candice!”

And down I go into the pool. Getting myself up right, I come out of the water gasping. So very thankful for Jonah French-braiding my hair, I wipe my face. “Clark!” I screech.

There’s a low voice behind me and his arms wrap around me, around my bare stomach. “Yes, Candice?”

Flustered now, heart beating too fast, mind racing, unable to breathe, I just sort of stutter, “Y-you’re going to pay!”

Thrashing against him again, trying to push away, I’m not strong enough and he lifts me over the water. “Oh, really?”

“Clark!” and I am tossed again, into the deep end.

Coming up again, I can’t help but start laughing after I find my breath. Swimming over to all the girls, I know they won’t throw me anywhere. All of them look either confused or shocked and when I pull myself up over the edge to sit, I lean forward, “What?”

Allie throws her hand forward, “How are you so cool with him?”

“Who?” I glance around, toweling the braid down my shoulder.

She huffs. “C.J., obviously.”

My eyes land on his smiling face as he chats with Erik and his other band mates. He glances at me, as if knew, and winks.

Allie’s arm swats my stomach. “Oh. My. God!”

I laugh to myself and lift from the poolside with grace, “I am going to get a drink.”

All the girls followed like a swarm, practically pushing their way through the crowd, trying to ask me questions. Thankfully, Jonah is sitting on the bar and lifts a cup. “Hey! Everyone!”

Most people turn.

He stands on the bar, solo cup high, “Food’s ready! We’ll bring out the cake and cupcakes in about twenty minutes.”

Jumping off the counter, he hands me my phone with the necklace on top. “We should go change.”

After the necklace is on, I raise my eyebrows, “A wardrobe change?”

“Of course! We need to get that cute blowing-out-the-candles Boomerang and pictures, obvi.”

I glance at him as he tugs me inside. “You didn’t even get in the pool!”

His laugh is a little wicked. “Do I ever?”

Stumbling through the freezing house, I shake my head. “I didn’t bring a dress or anything, though. I brought clothes for when everyone leaves.”

We’re into his bedroom now, “Well.”

The door closes and I cross my arms over my chest, borderline shivering. “Well what?”

“Don’t be mad. But, I thought Hades should probably be checked on anyway so… I sent C.J. over and texted him to pick out a dress for you.”

Abruptly still, I stared at him. “What?”

He shrugs and pushes me to the bathroom. “You smell like chlorine, go wash off.”

The door closed before I can even get another word out. Clark? Clark went over, into my room, into my closet, and picked out a dress? Surely Jonah had given him really specific instructions; he’d organized my closet after all. I wash off quickly, using the body wash I’d left in here for this exact reason - some fancy bull s**t Mom got me that smelled like magnolias. Wrapped in a towel with my white bikini strung over the curtain rod, I lean into the bedroom. “Jonah?”

“Candi?”

“Can I have my clothes?”

He comes over with green fabric draped over his arm, the underwear I needed over it. “Here.”

I squint. “You never pick green for me - you say it’s too cliché for a redhead.”

“I told you, I told C.J. to.”

My chest starts fluttering - shallow breaths and fast heart. “I thought you must have told him what to grab.”

His shoulders shimmy. “Go on then. I’m sure you’re going to want to do your brows and mascara before we go down.”

Clothes on quickly, I look at myself in the mirror. I’d worn the dress once… not that it isn’t beautiful, but I’d bought for a specific reason… a specific person. Clark.

It was his birthday after I started crushing and I branched out and got something that would actually show off my decent size chest and tiny waist. Emerald chiffon, v-neck, butterfly sleeves, fitted beltline, flared skirt. I’d worn a French-braid then, too. But Clark barely even looked at me that night, when he did his stare was too intense to handle.

The only comment he ever made was when we were alone in his kitchen, a “You look gorgeous,” but he was and is so sarchotic sometimes that I didn’t know how to react before he left the kitchen quickly.

I remember standing in the kitchen, alone, wanting to cry. I didn’t know what to do so I just went home and changed. I came back, after crying a bit, in jeans and a high-collar, long-sleeved shirt. I lied and said I’d spilled soda on my dress.

My hands lay on my stomach as I just stare in the mirror. The necklace he gave me falls softly on my chest, the heart falling just under the v-seam. I didn’t want to tuck it in… but I do feel like I’m going to start crying. Had he just picked the dress because it was the first he saw? Did he pick it ‘cause of the color? Or had he remembered? Had he honestly meant it when he called me gorgeous and when he saw it he wanted to see it again?

“Candi! Com’on! We gotta get downstairs.”

Steadying my breath, I turn and open the door. “Alright.”

“Everyone’s expect – what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Candi…”

I don’t look at him and spray some perfume. “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

I head for the door. “Com’on.”

“Candi, wait,” and he grabs my arm.

“What?” I utter in a surrendered voice.

“What’s wrong?”

I wave a hand down, “The dress.”

“Is it new or something? Were you saving it?”

My brows furrow, “You don’t remember it?”

He looks me over again and looks up with a confused face.

If he didn’t remember it, there’s no way Clark could. “Never mind then.”

*

Back in the dress, back in the kitchen, back in front of the fridge, looking for something to drink, Candice stands quietly. She’s reached the point she doesn’t want soda anymore but isn’t quite ready to ‘suffer’ through water. This had been the same thing that happened at my birthday… the first and only time I’d ever seen her wear that dress.

“Candice.”

She smiles without looking, her hand absentmindedly moving the locket back and forth on the chain. “Clark.”

I also know that even though she is looking between the normal and pink lemonade that she’s going to end up picking the pink. Which is why I always ask Pops to stock it. I reach over her shoulder and snatch it.

“You look gorgeous,” I repeat, hoping this time I wouldn’t freak her out to the point she changes.

Knowing the difference between pink from the Sun and pink from blushing, I smile to myself while I pour two cups. Coming next to me, I hand her a cup. She whispers a nervous, “Thank you” and takes a sip.

I turn against the counter and cross my arms over my chest, cold glass against my shoulder. “So, Miss Candice, having a good birthday?”

She nods and laughs. “Yes, Mister Clark, I am.”

She’d taken her braid out as her hair dried and her fluffy mane is back. I lean over and tussle the top. “Good.”

Cup down, she moves over to push me sideways, her usual response. I tuck her against me, hand tight on her waist. “Don’t make me throw you into the pool again!”

She laughs and tries to wiggle out of my arms. “No! It’ll ruin the dress!”

I twist her around so she’s facing me. So close now that I can see all the details in her eyes, lighter than the dress but still a lively green. I smile down at her. “It is a great dress,” I concur.

Her expression tightens. “Do you even remember it?”

My eyes don’t even leave hers. “Of course, I do.”

Her chest starts moving quickly. “Really?”

“I don’t know why you never wore it again, honestly. And I think you should forget what Jonah says, green really does look great on you.”

Her lips part slightly but then she shuts them tightly. She knows I may be sarcastic sometimes, sometimes a little harsh, but I never lie. I notice her eyes lower to my lips. Finally feeling like it was my chance; I move my hand up to her neck.

Right as I start The Lean there’s a call from the hall, “Candi!” and she turns away.

A long blink and I curse under my breath, letting my hand fall and brush back some of her hair. I don’t even care what girl is coming into the kitchen now, I keep holding on to Candice so that I can just f*****g kiss her after the girl leaves.

She fights against my arms, though, taking a step back, making some distance as the girl – Marie, I think her name is – comes into the kitchen. Of course, she’s not the only one, the whole gaggle of them behind her. They have that we-need-to-gossip look about them, so I squeeze Candice’s side, grab my drink and leave.

Hovering just beyond the arch from kitchen to dining room, though, I eavesdrop just a little. Of course, they are talking about me, talking about her with me, this is not new. I close my eyes to try and focus on the voices, weeding out Candice’s. The only important thing said is whatever she responds.

Something something, “you”, something, “C.J.” with a question mark.

I can hear the smile in her voice, “I don’t know… I mean, he’s one of my best friends!”

Eyes open, staring at the wood floor, my heart shrinks, my stomach drops, I can’t breathe. ‘Best friends’ rings in my ear as I made my way, not really seeing, up to my room. Closing the door behind me, I carefully place my drink on my desk.

Head hurting, stomach in knots, I sit on the edge of my bed. Candice is a smart girl, a pretty girl, an honest girl…. If she’d really felt something, surely, she would have told her friends, right?

But the more I stare at the ceiling fan and its methodical turning, I realized that wasn’t entirely a correct assumption. Girls could be mean, especially if they feel threatened. A lot of girls have crushes on me so if there is something between us – or she even felt something at all, telling them might get some bad reactions. No one could deny she and I were different than her with other guys or me with other girls. We were best friends, which isn’t a bad thing at all.

The problem is the only person she would ever admit her true feelings to is Jonah. But given that he’s the little brother in all this, that must be a little taboo, right? The last person, the very last person she could be honest with is me. So then, really, she doesn’t have anyone to talk about this at all….

Instantly, I wish Mom was here. She’d know exactly what to do. She’d known… all along, even if she’d never said it. That’s why she gave me the locket – I know it – because she knew I’d give it to Candice.

I remember all the late-night conversations I had with mom, when we found ourselves both looking for a midnight snack. Mom was the only person I didn’t feel weird talking to about Candice. She never assumed, she never joked, she never suggested anything… she’d just let me talk until I had nothing left to say.

Until I could look up at her and go “Candice is cool, I guess, is all I mean.”

Then she’d smile and reply “That she is.”

That she is, indeed.