See Dot Smile

Lilliana

"I'm going to send the first essay."

Lilliana's back is turned, but her ability to detect the presence of someone entering her perimeter is something of a superpower. She grew up with four older brothers who were really into pranks. She's learned to keep her senses finely tuned.

"Okay," I say, taking a seat in the library cubicle next to her. "What changed your mind?"

"I don't want to say it," she says, running her pencil over her math homework, scanning for errors. There won't be any.

"I won't tell him you took his advice," I tease. "If that makes it any easier."

She laughs a little and I revel in the small crack it makes in her hard exterior. 

Lilliana is an astounding person. Strong, dependable, and determined as hell. But she's hard to befriend. We've never had a girlfriend type relationship. Sometimes I wish we did. After the fallout with Ali, my trust in gal pals plummeted to an all-time low. But Lilliana always seems so far above everything. Like she knows what's worth getting upset about and what isn't. I wonder if having her in my ear about Joshua all these years might have been useful. She probably would have told me to kick him to the curb ages ago.

Maybe that's why I've never tried to be girlfriends with her. Because that's not the truth I want to hear. But I'm glad she's around. If for no other reason than to keep Kendall's testosterone level in check.

"God, he's such an ass sometimes," she groans.

"Sometimes?"

Another laugh. Making progress. "Maybe I shouldn't have dumped my coffee on him."

"No, that was the right move," I say. "A guy that big needs to get knocked down a peg or two once in a while. It keeps him sweet."

"He is big, isn't he?" she says, gazing over the top of her cubicle. Her mouth shifts into a knowing smile that make me blush.

"And sweet," I say. Her smile fades.

"Hm." She drops her eyes back to her worksheet. But her pencil doesn't move.

"Think you guys can play nice long enough to help Tom out on Saturday?" I ask.

"I can do that," she says like she's agreeing to a menial task at the office. "I'm dropping my application in the mail this afternoon. Then I'm turning my brain off about it until December."

We both know she'll never be able to do that. But it's good that she wants to try.

"He's going to try to apologize," I say. "You know it's not going to seem like it, right?"

"I know," she says, not looking up from her paper.

"And you know he really cares about you ... right?"

She exhales loudly and clears her throat. "I know."

I leave her alone after that. I'm not trying to play creepy matchmaker with them or anything. I think they're really over. But it's hard not to miss the people they were when they were together. They were brighter, less weighed down. Happier? I don't know. A lot goes on behind closed doors in a relationship like theirs.

I only hope they don't lose the spark between them. I think they both need it.

To stay sweet.

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