rested her forehead against it too.
What a weekend! Boston tried to calm her frazzled nerves as she thought about what a chaotic whirlwind she’d endured at work the day before—how an evening at Danielle’s that was supposed to be her respite after a long week ended up with her and Stephanie at odds—with Danielle’s brother, a complete stranger, reading her like an open book. Sleep deprived and anxious, she’d somehow managed to have a great time in Logan’s company. But now—now Steph had vamped her again. Boston felt tears begin to well in her eyes. Why had she waited so long to move out? There was being nice, and there was being used—and Boston had certainly been used. She felt stupid and embarrassed and experienced a self-loathing and disgust she’d never known before.
As she inhaled a deep breath and backed out of her parking space, a tear escaped her eye and traveled over one cheek. Boston was “too nice”—Stephanie herself had always told her that. But how could someone be too nice? And what was wrong with being nice? Nothing! But why did it seem—of late, anyway—that nice people always finished last?
Yet as Boston drove toward Danielle’s—hoping Danielle wouldn’t mind her hanging out until late again—she shook her head. No! Stephanie was just mean, that was all. Danielle’s brother was right: Stephanie Crittendon was a poisonous friend, a poisonous person in many ways. She liked the term—poisonous friend. It was so perfectly descriptive. Poison was often something that killed people slowly. Sure, it could be quick and painless, but most of the time, being poisoned was a slow, tedious process—a process the victim was often unaware of until it was too late. That’s exactly what Stephanie had been to Boston—she could see it clearly. As, in an instant, her entire experience and friendship with Stephanie flashed through her mind, Boston could see that the relationship had been poisonous.
“She ought to have one of those yuck-face poison stickers glued to her forehead,” Boston grumbled. Of course, being too nice as Boston was, she immediately scolded herself for even thinking such a thing. Stephanie had baggage and issues just like everyone else on the face of the earth. It’s just that Boston had begun to realize Steph’s baggage and issues weren’t the kind she could healthily deal with any longer.
“But I’ve got a plan now,” she said, pulling the sucker out of her mouth for a moment. “Or, at least, I’ve got part of a plan.”
She could move in with Danielle in a month. It was like being lost in the desert and seeing a waiting oasis just ahead in the distance. Yet Steph had demanded Boston be out of the apartment in two weeks. Compound that with the fact Boston wasn’t sure she could even last two weeks in the apartment with Steph—she’d had to escape two nights in a row already—and her plan hit a brick wall.
She was sure Halle would let her bunk in with her until Danielle’s brother was in his own place, but Halle had three other roommates. Though Halle would welcome Boston with open arms, Boston wasn’t sure Halle’s roommates would. Kara would probably beg her to move in with her family too—she still lived at home. Kara’s parents would be hospitable enough, but Kara’s six other siblings were still living there. It would be a profound imposition on Kara’s family. Boston briefly wondered if Max had proposed to Kara while she’d been out golfing with Logan. Still, there had been no text or missed call from Kara on her cell, so she guessed not.
Other than Dempsey—and that was totally inappropriate and thus out of the question—Boston couldn’t think of one person she could impose on for two weeks to a month. As she often did, but for different reasons than she did now, Boston wished her parents hadn’t moved to Kansas. She wished they still lived in Oklahoma City, and not just because she needed a place to live for a while. She hadn’t told
What a weekend! Boston tried to calm her frazzled nerves as she thought about what a chaotic whirlwind she’d endured at work the day before—how an evening at Danielle’s that was supposed to be her respite after a long week ended up with her and Stephanie at odds—with Danielle’s brother, a complete stranger, reading her like an open book. Sleep deprived and anxious, she’d somehow managed to have a great time in Logan’s company. But now—now Steph had vamped her again. Boston felt tears begin to well in her eyes. Why had she waited so long to move out? There was being nice, and there was being used—and Boston had certainly been used. She felt stupid and embarrassed and experienced a self-loathing and disgust she’d never known before.
As she inhaled a deep breath and backed out of her parking space, a tear escaped her eye and traveled over one cheek. Boston was “too nice”—Stephanie herself had always told her that. But how could someone be too nice? And what was wrong with being nice? Nothing! But why did it seem—of late, anyway—that nice people always finished last?
Yet as Boston drove toward Danielle’s—hoping Danielle wouldn’t mind her hanging out until late again—she shook her head. No! Stephanie was just mean, that was all. Danielle’s brother was right: Stephanie Crittendon was a poisonous friend, a poisonous person in many ways. She liked the term—poisonous friend. It was so perfectly descriptive. Poison was often something that killed people slowly. Sure, it could be quick and painless, but most of the time, being poisoned was a slow, tedious process—a process the victim was often unaware of until it was too late. That’s exactly what Stephanie had been to Boston—she could see it clearly. As, in an instant, her entire experience and friendship with Stephanie flashed through her mind, Boston could see that the relationship had been poisonous.
“She ought to have one of those yuck-face poison stickers glued to her forehead,” Boston grumbled. Of course, being too nice as Boston was, she immediately scolded herself for even thinking such a thing. Stephanie had baggage and issues just like everyone else on the face of the earth. It’s just that Boston had begun to realize Steph’s baggage and issues weren’t the kind she could healthily deal with any longer.
“But I’ve got a plan now,” she said, pulling the sucker out of her mouth for a moment. “Or, at least, I’ve got part of a plan.”
She could move in with Danielle in a month. It was like being lost in the desert and seeing a waiting oasis just ahead in the distance. Yet Steph had demanded Boston be out of the apartment in two weeks. Compound that with the fact Boston wasn’t sure she could even last two weeks in the apartment with Steph—she’d had to escape two nights in a row already—and her plan hit a brick wall.
She was sure Halle would let her bunk in with her until Danielle’s brother was in his own place, but Halle had three other roommates. Though Halle would welcome Boston with open arms, Boston wasn’t sure Halle’s roommates would. Kara would probably beg her to move in with her family too—she still lived at home. Kara’s parents would be hospitable enough, but Kara’s six other siblings were still living there. It would be a profound imposition on Kara’s family. Boston briefly wondered if Max had proposed to Kara while she’d been out golfing with Logan. Still, there had been no text or missed call from Kara on her cell, so she guessed not.
Other than Dempsey—and that was totally inappropriate and thus out of the question—Boston couldn’t think of one person she could impose on for two weeks to a month. As she often did, but for different reasons than she did now, Boston wished her parents hadn’t moved to Kansas. She wished they still lived in Oklahoma City, and not just because she needed a place to live for a while. She hadn’t told
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