Awkwardly Ever After by Marni Bates

himself a little bit more.
    Dylan didn’t react, though, not outwardly, with anything more than a speculative gleam in his eyes. Which only served to annoy me more. Was there some special guy class that I had missed where all the jocks were taught how to look skeptically at each other as some kind of demented means of intimidation ?
    I was willing to believe it.
    Instead of waiting for me to make a move, he snagged the empty bowl from my hands, turned on his heel, and headed right to the kitchen. I could have sat down and pretended nothing had happened, but with the mixture of confusion (Mackenzie), disapproval (Izzie), and disbelief (Logan and Spencer) coming at me from every side of the room, I hastened to make my exit.
    I trailed silently after Dylan and prepared myself to apologize for my rudeness. To end whatever it was between us that kept making me act like such a head case. To break whatever knotted thread appeared to be binding the two of us together.
    Case closed.
    â€œListen, Dylan . . .” I began, determined to say the words before I could chicken out again. “I’m sorry, I was way out of line. But I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. We’re friends, right? I think we’re friends. And I think we should, y’know . . . stay that way. So . . . no hard feelings?”
    â€œI’m just curious; how many classic breakup lines did you consider before settling for the I just want us to be friends approach?”
    I crossed my arms defensively. “This isn’t a breakup. You have to be together in order to be broken up.”
    There was a flash of pain in Dylan’s dark brown eyes and I instantly felt like crap. Correction: I felt like a dung beetle stuck on a pile of crap, even though I was the one trying to make the best out of a really shitty situation.
    Better that I hurt him a little now than to let him think that there could be something between us.
    â€œIf it’s not a breakup, then why the grand speech? The last time I checked, I hadn’t mailed a declaration of intentions or a love letter to your house. Not that I even know where you live since the one time I walked you home, I seriously doubt you let me come within two blocks of it.”
    Three blocks, actually.
    But that had nothing to do with Dylan. Not really. I just didn’t want to become evasive when we reached my doorstep. And I definitely didn’t want him coming inside.
    I’d learned early on that compartmentalizing my life was the key to surviving it.
    Dylan was part of the outside world. And I needed him to stay there.
    So I had walked the last three blocks by myself and hoped that he wouldn’t read too much into it. Apparently, he had.
    â€œLook, I just . . . I’m here with Spencer,” I blurted out. “So I thought we should clear the air.”
    The microwave beeped, but Dylan’s attention didn’t waver from me as I consigned myself to a lower level of hell for lying to him. Again.
    The scary part was that if Mackenzie got her way, I would be telling the truth.
    â€œInteresting,” Dylan said slowly. “I don’t see him with you now.”
    I curled my lip in disgust. “What does that mean? I’m not a fire hydrant that you can pee on to stake your claim over all the other dogs on the block.”
    He laughed and for a second I could almost believe that we were actually friends again, the way we had been right before that party. Right before we’d complicated things by flirting with each other for hours....
    â€œNice analogy there. And here I was going to unzip and—”
    There was a hesitant knock on the door that thankfully cut him off. There are some things that are better left unsaid, and I had a feeling that was one of them.
    Dylan glanced from the door back to me. “Are you expecting anyone else? There’s still time to give Spencer the let’s be friends talk so that you’ll be free to date whoever