Willa & the Extraordinary Internship

CH. 32

Midway through editing chapter five of her novel, Willa gave in. Her phone, idly sitting next to her, had been taunting her all throughout the day. She clicked the Instagram app on her phone and peered through the never-ending, steady stream of colorful, sharp images that flooded her screen. Girls with perfect hair with small chests and even smaller waists; girls and their dogs; girls and their boyfriends; children playing; makeup hauls and eyeliner tutorials. Instagram had everything.

Including her best friend.

Near the top of the notification screen was a picture of Maryam and Cyn, cups of frozen yogurt in their hands. Cyn's hand was extended, because she was taking the picture, and Maryam's hand was digging to her yogurt with the teensy, 3-inch plastic spade-spoon. Both girls were looking right at the camera, their eyes shiny and happy.

Like they didn't miss her at all.

Loss slammed into Willa, sinking through her bones and into her belly, settling like a hollow pit in her abdomen. They didn't even look bothered that she wasn't there. Ordinarily, Maryam would have been in the middle, Cyn and Willa flanking her on either side. Cyn would have been quibbling about which was the best angle, Maryam would have stolen a gummy worm off the top of Willa's yogurt, and Willa would have been trying hard to get her smile in place before Cyn took the picture.

She sighed. Things were different now. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel. Some days it hurt and other days it didn't. Willa drummed her thumb against the screen, unable to tear her eyes away from Cyn's stupid, stupid face. As usual, she had coated every inch of her skin with makeup, but there was no denying that the blonde was gorgeous.

"Who's that?" Nate had popped up behind her, a mug of steaming tea cradled against his chest.

"Oh, um," Willa began to say, shielding the phone from view, but it was too late.

"Insta-stalking?" Nate teased, sinking down onto the chair next to her. He used his pinky to point at her phone. "Your friends?"

"Yeah." With a chagrined smile, Willa turned the phone to face him.

"Cute," he acknowledged, his eyes flicking over the girls' faces with interest. "So what's up? Why didn't you go with them to get"—he squinted at the name printed on the cup—"froyo?"

"That would have required an invite," Willa replied dryly, turning her phone off. Immediately, the screen went black.

"Who needs an invite?" Nate was incredulous. "Just show up."

"I can't do that!" Willa said, hiding her unease with a laugh. "No one does that. That's so creepy."

Nate took a deep swallow of his tea, sputtering when the liquid was too hot. "Needs to cool," he muttered, pushing the mug away from himself. "People totally do that," he continued, "that's why people use social media. So everyone knows what they're doing and who they're doing it with."

"Yeah, so they can show off, not so that people who stalk their social can go find them," Willa said, punctuating the sentence with an eye roll. "Anyway, who said I even wanted to go?"

Nate smiled, and it was a smile that reached his eyes and tugged at Willa's heart. "Because we're still having this conversation," he said, voice gentle.

Willa clamped her lips shut. Ugh. She hated it when he was so observant. Not really, though, because it was actually pretty sweet of him to notice.

"Is everything okay with you guys?"

She didn't know how to answer that. Telling him anything more than what she'd already divulged would mean explaining about Cyn. About Hanna. About the book. About how it had all come apart right when Willa thought her life was coming together. "Not really," she said, opting for the most truthful answer.