A Friend Like Me

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Mr. Brightside - The Killers

“Hey!” someone yelled as we arrived at the hotel.

It was Vanessa.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

I really need to pick up my conversational skill with her. And, well, with Joe, too.

“I'm the opening act,” she answered. “So, are you and Joe –”

“No, we're not dating,” I said.

We are actually stuck between the line separating best friends and dating, going around in circles.

Stupid circles. I never really did like them.

Vanessa shook her head. “Have you even told him yet?”

Remembering how she dragged me once, I avoided her gaze and mumbled, “Uh, no.”

“What?!”

“Well, I-I didn't want to just drag him into this. Besides, it is my first time in Europe, and I shall enjoy it without being pestered about confessing my feelings.”

{∞∞∞}

I dragged the luggage into the hotel room, exhausted.

“So, looks like we're gonna share a hotel room, huh?” said Joe as I laid down on my bed.

Luckily for me (I guess), Mr. and Mrs. Jonas thought of me as trustworthy enough to share a hotel room with Joe. Which is nice and all, but that's just another “YOU AND JOE ARE JUST FRIENDS” thing.

“Yeah, because someone forgot to book me a hotel room, when he said he had everything planned,” I retorted.

“I didn't exactly say that,” Joe said, grinning. “This is just like old times, isn't it?”

I flashed back to the “old times,” when we'd go from motel to motel, using one van.

I smiled, switching my position on the bed so that my arms and head were hanging down, like a bored child. “Oh yeah. Remember when that one woman followed us to the motel room?”

Joe nodded, laughing. “Yeah. That was so scary at the time, though…hey, wanna go out now?”

My head snapped up toward him. “What?”

Joe went pink. “Well – o-out-outside.”

I dropped my head back to where it was, pressing my face against the soft fabric of the blanket.

I wish I had a mattress like this at home. And the blanket, too. And I wish Joe and I would get over whatever speed bump this was on the road of our relationship.

“Oh,” I said, my voice slightly muffled, keeping my eyes on the plush, white carpet. I sighed, dragging my hands along it.

“So, you remember last week?” Joe asked haltingly.

No, Joseph, I don't. I just have a really bad memory.

“What about it?” I muttered.

“Do – do you still think that?” Joe asked, sitting down next to where I was laying.

Hey, Joe! You know, it would be extremely nice if you got to the point quickly, instead of making random general sentences.

“Joe, what are you talking about?” I questioned.

“I want – I want to talk to you about us,” said Joe.

Joe has got to be the most disagreeable person I know. I mean, why couldn't we have talked about it earlier, when I was pushing us to?

I looked up at him and propped my chin on my hands. “Alright.”

Joe looked at me, as if he expected me to start, even though he was the one who started this talk.

Not that I am actually expecting something from this talk.

“Do you still think that we wouldn't last?” Joe asked.

“Don't know,” I said. I thought of last week. “I mean, you could hurt me so much that I'd never talk to you –”

“It's always me, isn't it?” Joe asked suddenly, looking away from me, his voice having a sharp edge.

“Wh-what?” I stammered, taken aback. “What's up with you?”

“Even you believe these 'heartbreaker' rumors about me.”

“Joe –”

“I thought you were above believing that, but if even you believe that about me, then it has to be right, doesn't it?”

“Joe, you know that –”

“Can't you trust me enough that I won't do something that stupid to you?”

Actually, that's all you've pretty much been doing. Seriously, I don't even know how many times I've cried over him for the past couple of weeks.

“Demi wouldn't say anything like that,” Joe continued.

Here we go again with the Demi card and how she's ten times better than me.

“I didn't mean it like that,” I said quietly.

Joe scowled. “You never do.”

Getting up and strapping my SLR around my neck (touristy, I know, but I want my pictures), I headed for the door. “You know what? If you're going to be like that, I'm going to go off by myself.”

And I exited the door without another word.

{∞∞∞}

When I walked into the hotel room I shared with Joe, arms laden with shopping bags, he was nowhere to be found.

Oh. Shoot. Maybe I shouldn't have run off like that.

I marched into the room Nick had adjacent to ours.

“Where's Joe?” I demanded.

“He went to go looking for you,” Nick answered. “You should really do something with that running-off habit of yours. Now, if you don't mind, can you leave? I'm writing a song.”

And people call me a workaholic.

I switched my cellphone on, just as the door in my room creaked open.

“Nick?” Joe called. “Have you reached her yet? Her phone's off.” Joe walked into the room, his face flooding with relief when he saw me. “Oh. Av, you had me so worried.” He wrapped his arms around me.

Recalling how he compared me to Demi (again), I pulled away. “Whatever.” I walked into my room.

I opened my luggage and rummaged through it, looking for something less casual to wear.

“What's wrong?” Joe asked, being his oblivious self.

“Nothing,” I said abruptly.

Choosing a grey cardigan over a navy dress, I walked to the bathroom to change.

“Where are you going?” Joe asked, blocking my way.

“Out of my way,” I barked.

“What's wrong?” Joe tried again. “Is it about what I said earlier?”

“Move!”

“Ava, I –”

“JOE, MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!”

“Such a lovely, sweet-tempered girl,” Joe said under his breath as he stepped to the side.

I stopped. “You know, if you'd really rather me be Demi, why didn't you ask her to come here instead of me?”

Joe stared at me, his mouth agape as he searched for something to say to me.

“Listen,” I continued bitterly, “I'm SICK of you comparing me to her. I get it, okay, that I'll never be anything like her. You don't see me comparing you to James, Joe, even though – even though he's sweeter, more – more agreeable than you.”

Joe looked down and looked back up at me. “Av, I didn't mean it like that.”

“You never do,” I mocked. I opened the bathroom door and slammed it.

{∞∞∞}

“Av,” Joe badgered, “where are you going?”

I ignored him and adjusted my headband. My cell phone rang.

I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Ava,” said James. “I'm at the lobby if you're ready, but you don't have to hurry.”

“Oh,” I said. “Okay. I'll be right down.”

“Who was that?” Joe asked after I hung up. “Where are you going?”

“I'm going to meet with James,” I said dismissively. “We're going to go look at museums and grab some dinner.”

Surprisingly, Joe said, “Oh,” instead of going on about how James wasn't right for me.

But, you know, at least he's matured?

{∞∞∞}

“Ava,” James said as we walked through the streets of Milan, arriving at my hotel. “For the past few weeks, I-I've grown quite attached to you and I – well, what I'm trying to say is…will you be my girlfriend?”

“What?” I said before I could stop myself.

James scratched the back of his neck nervously. “…Will you be my girlfriend?”

See, the thing is, nobody's really actually asked me to be their girlfriend. That thing with Connor? Yeah. Just a date or two and a kiss or two. We were never “legit.”

The truth was, as corny as this sounds, I wanted Joe to be my first boyfriend.

But, you know, seeing as he keeps comparing me to other girls…

“Yeah,” I said. “Okay – I mean, yes.”

James smiled. “I'll see you in London?”

I nodded.

By the way he was smiling, I could tell that he really did like me. I felt horrible for bringing him into this. I mean, a guy finally comes along in my life that actually likes me – and didn't take seventeen years to.

James tilted my chin towards his and pressed his lips again mine. “Goodnight,” he said when he pulled away.

“Goodnight,” I echoed back and turned around to go back inside the hotel.

See…it's just that I felt more of a – well, more of a spark with Joe, even if all he did was touch me briefly. I felt awful for it, but it was true. I was in too deep with Joe, but what could I expect? I've been falling for five years.

In what seemed like no time at all, I faced the door leading to my hotel room.

“Hey,” I said nervously as I entered, not sure if Joe was even in the room.

Except he was. I could hear the sounds of the TV.

I walked down the hallway and saw Joe, arms wrapped tightly around a pillow, sitting lazily on the couch, his eyes transfixed on the TV in front of him.

“Hey Joe,” I said.

Joe looked at me as I sat down next to him. “Hey. How did it go?”

I swallowed. “Uh…James asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“What?!”

“And I said yes.”

Joe didn't say anything. Setting down his pillow, he folded his arms across his chest, squinting at the TV, even though he had his glasses on. His eyebrows were furrowed and he bit his lower lip. He was looking away from me, staring resolutely at the TV.

This silence was worrying me. I mean, if he snapped right now, at least I'd know what he was thinking. But no, he was silent, keeping me out.

“Joe?” I asked hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

He ignored me.

“Joe?” I repeated.

“Yeah, fine,” he said quickly, monotone and through clenched teeth. “I'm fine. Don't worry.”

“You…you don't really look like you are….”

“What makes you say that?” Joe asked, still abrupt and monotone.

I knew I was treading on eggshells now. Any wrong word would make him explode.

“The way you're talking,” I listed, “the way you're sitting, and –”

“Well, why wouldn't I be?” Joe snapped, facing me. “Ava, that guy, he – he doesn't deserve you. He doesn't know you. He's not right for you.”

“Okay, Joe. So, who exactly is this perfect guy for me? I want to meet him.”

Joe ignored this. “Well, I don't approve of him.”

I stood up. “I don't need your approval. Who do you think you are?!”

Joe stood up, too. “You can't date him, Ava! He's – he really isn't right for you. And he's too old for you.”

“He's only a year older!”

“Why did you say yes to him?!”

“He asked me, Joe! Isn't that what people do when they like someone? They tell them?”

Which, you know, is kinda hypocritical of me to say…but still.

“What if they're keeping quiet because they don't want to ruin anything?” Joe yelled, his voice breaking. “What if they don't want to screw up what they have?!”

“What are you talking about?!” I cried.

“Have you thought about how maybe – just maybe – there's someone who won't say anything about his feelings because he's afraid he's going to destroy everything?”

“If you're going to be like this, then I'm sleeping in Nick's room,” I retorted pitifully. Stomping to the bed, I grabbed my pajamas and toothbrush.

Joe grabbed my wrist, spinning me around. “See what I mean? Maybe, if you just look, you'll see that there is a guy who – who likes you more than him, but every time I – he gets close to telling you that he's falling in love, you just run away.”

“I'm not running away,” I said roughly. “I just don't want to be with someone so disagreeable.”

Joe still held my wrist, looking into my eyes. “Did you think about how someone wouldn't say anything because he likes you?”

Of course I do. I've been stuck in that position for five years, mind you.

But instead I shook my wrist out of his grip and said, “That makes no sense, Joseph.”