Always Never

Chapter 2

Five years ago

"Aaaaah!" Felicia screeches in her high-pitched voice. "He viewed it! He viewed it! Just wait, he'll check yours soon. Did you post the stories like I asked, right?"

I want to run as far away from my ever-present friend as possible. She had already frayed all my nerves with her obsessive idea of setting me up with someone. Just because she's married, she thinks everyone else should be like her, as if marriage and children are vital necessities, and without them, people are deformed.

It all got to the point where she made a list of her friends who I might like.

And what is she doing now?

Of course. She decides it would be just amazing to post old videos of me awkwardly dancing on her stories.

I feel like banging my head against the wall just to avoid participating in this absurdity. But I'm not one of those people who can control Felicia. If anyone can control her at all.

"Hey! Earth to Elizabeth. Are you in touch with the cosmos or what?" she shakes my shoulder insistently.

"Yes, I posted it!" I roll my eyes, turning onto my back.

Felicia jumps up, shaking the mattress of the bed we're both sitting on. My studio apartment is too small for the both of us. I can't wait for her to go home. When is her son coming back from school?

I love the moments when Felicia is busy with her household chores. Then she doesn't bother me, doesn't call me every five minutes, and doesn't pester me with her obsessive ideas for our shared book. And I hate when she complains about how much time she spends in the kitchen feeding two pigs. By her definition, those are her husband and son.

She also mops the floors by hand every day and avoids manicures because she's afraid of nail files. To me, these are red flags that should make anyone run far away from her.

Unfortunately, I don't recognize these signs earlier, and now I have to endure her company until we finish the book. I won't let down our readers who eagerly await new chapters every day.

Honestly, if it weren't for them, I would have already run away from Felicia.

"Just open that damn Instagram and check!" she grumbles, poking me in the ribs.

I clench my fists, telling myself it won't be long before I can distance myself from her without any drama.

I run my hand over the blanket covering the bed, searching for my phone. Finally, I find it and bring it to my face.

"Well, what's there?!" Felicia demands impatiently.

"I haven't even opened the app yet. Calm down, please," I say in a fairly calm voice, though my eye twitches with every breath she takes.

Felicia just huffs and tries to peek at my phone screen.

"Who am I supposed to look for?" I ask, showing her the list of people who viewed my stories.

She scans the names carefully, and then her expression changes so rapidly that I fear she might be having a stroke.

"I knew it would work!!!" she screams, jumping up and down and clapping her hands.

I notice an unfamiliar name on the list and click on the account. Immediately, I see photos that Felicia had previously sent me for approval. A handsome man with short, sandy hair, incredibly beautiful hands, blue eyes, and a cute button nose. Most of the photos are taken in and around San Francisco. Yes, I remember Felicia mentioning that he lives there.

I scroll further and notice pictures from Burning Man.

Damn, I envy you, Tyler. That's my dream.

Without thinking, I like a photo and freeze. I feel like slapping myself. It's as embarrassing as accidentally liking a photo of your ex's new girlfriend.

Ah, to hell with it! After all, I don't let Felicia's efforts go in vain.

I like a few more of his oldest photos.

"Do you like him?" Felicia chirps, batting her eyes and tossing her dyed blonde hair.

"If I didn't like him, I wouldn't have liked his photos," I roll my eyes, looking at her cunning fox face.

From her reactions and stories about college, I get the strong feeling that she's had a thing for him for a long time. But Felicia has been with her husband since she was sixteen. Still, she talks about Tyler with such enthusiasm... Maybe my suspicions are groundless. In any case, Felicia would never admit the truth to me. According to her, she has loved only her husband all her life and has never been interested in anyone else.

I give her a scrutinizing look. Why on earth did I get involved with her in the first place?

"Well, lovebirds, the ball's in your court now. I've played my role as Cupid," Felicia says smugly, adjusting her t-shirt. "Now I need to head home. The pests will be back soon. I need to feed them."

"Don't forget your arrows, you half-baked Cupid," I smirk, escorting her to the door.

"Remember, we're writing a chapter tomorrow, right?" she turns before opening the door. "We need to post as frequently as possible before the readers lose interest."

I have a different opinion. It's fine if people wait a day. It will only increase their anticipation.

"I remember," I give her a strained smile.

"Good," she kisses me on both cheeks. "I'll call you later today."

Please, don't! I silently plead.

"Yeah, yeah," I point to the door. "Go on, or the pests will be starving and eat you alive."

"They've already sucked all the blood out of me," Felicia sighs, but then she pulls herself together and smiles the widest, most unnatural smile. "But I love them. They're the best! My son is so smart for his age."

Oh god, here she goes again. Will she ever leave my home?

I nod and murmur in agreement.

"And my husband is a beast in bed! You should see!" she continues.

I hope not a sloth...

"Thanks, but no thanks!" I finally shove Felicia out of my apartment. "Bye-bye!"

I lock the door behind her and rub my face with my hands, exhausted.

Writing a book with Felicia drains all my energy. It's time to admit that this experiment has been a failure. Yes, our collaboration has brought us many subscribers, and I've had the chance to try a new genre. But it's definitely not worth my sanity.

I return to the room and think about what is better to do: write a new chapter or drink herbal tea to restore nerve cells? But my attention turns to something completely different.

The phone screen lights up with a notification. Cautiously, I approach it and check who it might be. Hopefully, it's not an irate reader for whom waiting a day for a new chapter is too much.

To my surprise, the notifications inform me of new messages on Instagram. I open the chat window and see the first lines of a newly started conversation.

Tyler: "Hi :) Nice to meet you."

Followed by another message.

Tyler: "I haven't read books in a long time, but you've got me interested."

I burst into loud laughter, rereading the last message several times. Sure, let's pretend you're here just because of the books.

Quickly, before I change my mind, I type a response with swift fingers.

Elizabeth: "Hi :) Nice to meet you too. Want to be my test reader?"

I grin stupidly, rereading the messages. Let's see where this goes. My gut tells me it's going to be a hell of a lot of fun.