Getting over your first crush seems impossible - especially when he's the star of the world's biggest movie franchise.
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Jess Wheeler is happily single and perfectly content with her simple life in Hemlock Landing, South Carolina, where all she kn...
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By the time I speed into the driveway in front of my house like a maniac in a ten-year-old's GTA server, it's a little after ten at night and Teresa is standing in the lawn doing the I Have to Pee dance. The sight is so unexpected that I burst into laughter that quickly turns into happy tears once we rush into a long-awaited embrace.
It feels so good to hug her again, to share a tearful laugh, that all of the unpleasantness from the B&B washes away. Suddenly, we're back in high school and she's over at my house for a study session that inevitably turns into us watching hilariously bad American Idol auditions on YouTube.
Teresa pushes me away and holds me by the arms, like she's observing a painting. "Girl, you look amazing!"
I know that she's lying, because I'm dressed in a ratty old t-shirt and sweatpants and I've been cleaning for the past four hours. But that's something that Teresa and I made a habit of doing back in high school: building each other up, even if the compliments were wildly off-base. So I grin and say, "Thank you. You too! Holy shit, your hair!"
When I compliment Teresa, it's not an exaggeration at all. Because what the hell: it's almost unfair how good she looks, seemingly without any effort. Her dark black hair that used to fall past her butt is now styled into a short, fringe pixie cut that of course looks perfect on her, and she doesn't need to use an ounce of makeup to accentuate the feminine slant of her eyes or the length of her lashes. Looking at my best, oldest friend, I feel my throat start to close up as tears leak into the corners of my eyes. I look away to hide them, but there's no fooling Teresa.
"I've missed you a lot."
"Awww, Jessy," she says, pulling me into another hug. "I've missed you too. I'm so glad to be here." She lowers her voice. "But I really do have to pee."
Leave it to my friend to shift the mood like that. I laugh and help her bring her luggage inside, flipping on the lights in the darkened house while she makes a bee-line for the bathroom. When Teresa rejoins me, visibly refreshed, we both fall into our old spots on the living room couch. We have a million questions to ask each other, and for nearly an hour we just swap inane gossip like old times.
I tell her about my work at the B&B and how my mother is slowly giving me more and more responsibilities when it comes to business decisions. She tells me all about college and med school, and how if she has to identify another human bone she might just snap one day and become a grave robber. She asks about Cody, my step-dad, and Kayley, and I assure her that Cody's doing well and my younger sister is as ridiculous and nerdy as ever.
"Aww, I love Kayley. She's so...unapologetic," Teresa says, criss-crossing her legs.
"Is that what they're calling it?" I tease, and she throws a pillow right at my face. Which means war. I grab the pillow and swing it right back at her, and then, for about five minutes, we become the kind of twenty-five year olds who still have pillow fights. It's kind of nice to let loose like this, and for the moment I forget about all of my worries. Finally, when we're both no longer breathless on the floor and doubled over in pain from laughing so hard, I ask Teresa what I've been wanting to know since she got here.
