Will You Keep Me Alive?

My attention span was very thin for the next few days. I couldn’t focus on anything for more than five minutes, and then my mind would replay the picture that Camille showed me in my room in the other day. Sure, I could try refocusing back on the subject I should be paying attention on, but then my brain would get distracted again.

There were two possibilities from the picture: either that John was cheating on me or the angle of the picture made it seem like it. I really wanted to believe in the second choice, but my mind was pulling me back.

“Daphne.”

I snapped out of my little thinking spot and back to the reality. “Yes?”

“You’ve been playing with the edge of my blanket for fifteen minutes now,” John said from across his room, sitting on his chair. I looked down and indeed I had his Power Ranger blanket pulled to my lap, my fingers holding its edge.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“I thought you were just watching me writing a poem, but you were just spazzing out,” he laughed, but turned back serious a second later. “Is something bothering you?”

I pursed my lips. “Nope.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve been your best friend for thirteen years, you think I don’t know it when you have something in mind?”

“I can try to fool you.”

“Yeah, but you’re not fooling me right now. At all.” He moved from the chair to the bed, sitting next to me, locking his eyes on mine. “Tell me,” he whispered.

I looked back down to my lap, my fingers fidgeting with the blanket again. In my mind, I was battling whether or not I should ask him about the truth. I could just keep quiet or just let my mouth blurt it out. “The other day...” Okay, so my body just decided. “Camille showed me a picture. It was a picture of you and a girl . . . at Starbucks . . . at the night of my birthday when you came home earlier . . . and you guys were kissing. Or at least the angle made it seem like it.”

He was silent for a while, so I chose to look up to see his reaction. He was looking at my fingers, not making even the slightest sound.

“John?”

“Alright, so I lied about running errands for my mom,” he finally said, looking at me. “BUT I wasn’t cheating on you, I swear,” he quickly added before I could react, “She’s a friend I met through Halvo. I was helping her with something.”

“Why did you lie, then?”

“I didn’t want to make you upset, and she really needed me that time.” His eye bored at me with an apologetic stare. “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t do it again.”

I tore my gaze away from his, searching for something, anything that could bring me out from this situation. I wanted to believe him, but I had doubts.

- - -

Later that afternoon from John’s house, I went out with Neyla to grab some ice cream and just to hang out. I told her what happened earlier.

“And you just forgive him like that?” she said, licking her cone of vanilla ice cream.

“Yeah, I mean, what else was I supposed to do?”

“Daph, he lied to you. The reason seems pretty fucking legit – and I, of course, am being sarcastic. We both know him so well.”

“And we both know that he’s a man of his words.”

“But now he’s famous, Daphne.”

I stopped walking, making her a few steps ahead from me. She noticed this, stopped as well, and turned around. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

She hesitated. For a few moments we were just standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at each other. “We know a few cases: a person gets famous, he forgets who he was, and he changes.”

“John is not like that.”

“What if he is?” She took a few steps closer to me. “What if he actually changes but he covers it up?”

“I’ve known him all my life, Neyla, he’s not that easy to change.”

“Well, fame does crazy stuff to people.”

“What are you trying to imply here?”

She hesitated again, thinking of a response. “Look, I don’t want us to fight again.”

“Neither do I.” I smiled, and she smiled back. “Let’s just drop it,” I said as we continued walking and I saw her nodding from the corner of my eye. “How do you feel about Garrett nowadays?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s not a dick to me anymore, but that’s just because we don’t talk.”

“Do you want to, though?”

“Well, I’d love to patch things up with him again, but considering how he feels about me that’s quite impossible doesn’t it?”

“Patch things up, as in getting back together or...”

“No, no,” she smiled, wiping off some ice cream from her cheek. “Just friends. I really miss hanging out with him.”

“How if I say Garrett wants to patch things up with you as well, but he’s afraid to talk to you?”

She laughed. “He does?”

“I’m serious. He said so during my birthday. Well he didn’t exactly say that he was afraid to talk to you, it’s just reflexes that turns him into a douchebag whenever he speaks because the memories just come rushing back. Maybe if you try talking to him and be patient, he’ll soften up.”

She nodded, pursing her lips as if she was thinking. “I’ll try.”