Not a Best Friend Thing

Chapter Three: The Email

Chapter 3

Jacey brushed Sloane’s hair away from her ear. Girls always liked that—it made them feel special, adored even. That was his talent, after all. He knew how to make them feel wanted, how to act like he was in love during the day, only to move on by tomorrow. He couldn’t help it. He was a man, wasn’t he? And men were meant to charm women, to make them feel like they were doing him a favor.

Sloane was his favorite this week—aside from Carrie, of course, whom he had conveniently ditched for the girl in front of him. He hadn’t paid much attention to her face. It was her long, sinewy legs that caught his eye.

She let out a soft moan as he nibbled her lower lip. The sound sent a rush of heat through him, intensifying the tension already building in his body. Then it happened again—that maddening itch. A sharp, irritating sting crawled across his skin, striking right at the worst possible moment.

Not now. Not this time.

But the itch wouldn't stop. His frustration spiked, and without thinking, he pulled away.

“I gotta go,” he muttered, standing abruptly.

Sloane blinked up at him, confusion flickering across her face.

“What?”

“Something came up.” He was already moving toward the exit of the dimly lit theater, barely managing to throw a half-hearted excuse over his shoulder. “I’ll catch you later.”

By the time he reached the restroom, he knew he was already late. His last class had ended at eight, and despite all his efforts to avoid them, girls always found a way to take up his time. Sloane had been relentless, practically seducing him in class. Not that he could blame her. He could have ignored it—should have—but his body had other ideas.

As he maneuvered his bike toward the garage, Klay crossed his mind. Hadn’t she mentioned something about an assignment? Was it about his time as a quarterback? Or geometry? He wasn’t sure. Her house lights were still on, though, so she was probably awake.

Inside, he found his dinner waiting in the microwave. His mom had gotten used to him being out late, always leaving food for him. He had a damn good mother. He shoved aside the thought of his father. Not tonight.

With his plate in hand, he sprinted upstairs, nudging his bedroom door closed with his foot. Across the hall, Klay’s room was dark. Guess she hadn’t waited up for him.

---

Klay scanned the student publication office, searching for a familiar scraggly-haired head. Tara wasn’t here.

She had checked the library earlier, but her friend’s usual spot was empty. Tara, a volunteer junior staffer in the librarian’s office, was working toward Latin honors. She was always racking up extra credits. But today, she was nowhere to be found.

With a glance at her watch, Klay sighed and gave up the search, heading to her first class.

Literature had a lousy reputation—unless, of course, you actually liked it. For most, it meant drowning in endless reading assignments and memorizing authors across historical timelines. Every single one.

For Klay, though, it was different. She loved reading, loved the minds behind the words, the brilliance of it all. But even passion needed the right teacher.

And Dr. Victor Hamster was that kind of professor.

Leaning against the whiteboard with effortless ease, he had one hand stuffed into the pocket of his worn-out jeans. The other rested just above his elbow, a wristwatch peeking from beneath the folded sleeves of his denim jacket. He looked less like a professor and more like a model straight off the cover of a magazine.

Klay wasn’t the only one who noticed. The whole class was drawn in, watching as he coolly observed the last student slipping into their seat.

When the door finally shut, he cleared his throat.

“So, this is Literature 103,” he announced. “First regular class today.”

He didn’t even have to try—everyone was already paying attention.

“I assume you all did your assignments.” His gaze swept the room. “Who was Homer’s contemporary? Anyone?”

Silence.

Klay frowned. She hadn’t reviewed it last night, but she remembered learning about it in high school. Without hesitation, she raised her hand.

“Yes?” Dr. Hamster nodded in her direction.

“Virgil,” she answered. “Homer’s most famous work was The Iliad, but there’s debate about whether all of his compositions were truly his. Some scholars believe Virgil could have been responsible for some of them.”

The professor gave an approving nod. “That’s right.”

He clapped his hands once. “Greek mythology under Homer’s perspective—let’s dive in.”

---

"Hang out at the cafeteria for lunch?"

Klay stared at the text on her phone, shaking her head. Too little, too late, Jace.

He had bailed on her interview, and to make matters worse, she’d ended up doing their homework alone. She had even answered his damn questions in class just so they’d both pass.

Still, despite her irritation, she found herself heading to the cafeteria anyway.

When she arrived, Jace was already there, tapping his fingers impatiently against the table. Klay smirked. She had intentionally arrived late, just for a little payback.

The sunlight outside cast a glow over him, making his dark, shaggy hair appear even messier than usual. As she approached, he shot up from his seat, smiling awkwardly.

She kept her face neutral, her arms crossed.

Jace immediately lifted his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright,” he started. “I know you’re mad because I ditched you—”

Klay raised a brow.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I promised… and I broke it.”

She let her brow drop, her expression softening slightly. At least he knew why she was pissed. A best friend’s promise wasn’t something you just threw away.

“This was about your women, wasn’t it?” she accused.

Jace hesitated, and that was answer enough.

“You’re breaking promises for them now?” she added, her voice quieter this time.

His stomach twisted. He hadn’t realized how much this had hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it.

A beat of silence passed before he tried to lighten the mood. “But hey, I’ve got news for you.”

She arched a brow, unimpressed.

“I’ll treat you for our month-end thing.”

Klay’s lips twitched slightly. Then she narrowed her eyes.

“Every single penny?”

Jace grinned. “Every single penny.”

And just like that, the tension lifted. They never stayed mad at each other for long. Their friendship was one in a million, Klay thought.

Later that evening, she took the bus home, still waiting for Tara to show up. But she never did.

When she got home, she tossed her bag onto her bed and let out a sigh. What a frustrating day. And now, she had to figure out who the mysterious author was. Why had Tara given her that book?

She flopped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.

Was Tara… kind of a psycho?

Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, expecting another meaningless notification—but froze when she saw the email.

It was from the editor of a webinar she had attended last week. Something clicked in her mind. The mysterious author—maybe they left some contact info.

Rushing to her desk, she grabbed the book and flipped to the back page. Her eyes immediately landed on an email address: ECWard.123@g*******m.

She typed out a message, hesitating only briefly before hitting send.

"Hey, hope you had a good day. This is Klay Harren Jules—yes, like the character in Five Ways to Fall. I have some questions. Is this your address?"

The moment she stood up, her laptop dinged with a reply.

Her mouth fell open.

"Finally, you’ve noticed me. 😉"

Holly mockery!