We Know Better

Fingers

The next day, during lunch, as I sit next to Mads at the lunch table talking to her, Brendon moseys over to the table. He stands at the end of the table with Cal and them as they immediately envelope him into a conversation. On the other end of the table is where Mads and I are, but across the space of the table length Brendon and I catch each other's gazes. They hold as we work to make our respective conversations work. I am the first to break it, because Mads gently nudges me.

"When did that happen? Have you two just always been secret friends or is this a recent development?" Her eyes flick to Brendon.

My teeth find my lip for a moment before I answer, "A little bit of both, I guess," I tell her honestly.

She wiggles her eyebrows at me, but does not say anything else because Brendon is making his way down the table to me. When he reaches me, he plops down to sit beside me and slings his arm around me in a fluid motion. Gently, he squeezes me in a silent hello topped off with a bright smile.

I smile over at him and say hello.

"Hey," he replies. "How are you feeling today?"

My heart thumps as warmth spreads through my chest. The fact that he cares makes me happy and the way that he keeps letting me know is overwhelming.

"I am doing better today, really. Thank you," I reassure him and my voice comes out soft and low.

"Good," he says and he keeps his eyes on mine. It is a few moments of nothing else but me and him, like we are the last two people in the world.

We are knocked out of our little world when Alessa plops down across from me at the table. As she greets everyone, Brendon considerately removes his arm from my shoulders, somehow sensing that I had become uncomfortable with it there. He does not leave though, he stays next to me with our shoulders pressed together.

When she gets settled, she launches into a story about the class she just came from. Everyone's focus is on her and I watch as she thrives under the spotlight. I am happy that she is getting the attention that I know she craves, but part of me wonders why she can do it so well and I cannot manage to get more than barely a few moments. It makes no sense for me to feel this way; I hate being in the spotlight. Having everyone paying attention to me is a terrifying thought, and yet I still feel the insidious jealousy seep through my veins.

Alessa and I are a lot alike. The product of growing up together and spending so much time with each other. Many of our mannerisms are the same, as well as the way we speak and respond to others. Sometimes even how we think. For the most part, her quirks are mine, and vice versa. But when you look at us like that, I am just the watered down version of her, and who wants that?

Eventually, lunch comes closer and closer to an end. I am wondering if I am taking Alessa home or if I am going to Brendon's. I am getting impatient as I wait for her to let me know. After a while and a worried glance from Brendon, as a result of the anxious energy radiating through me, she finally says something.

"Hey could you just give me a ride home?"

"Home or my home?" I ask for clarification because where I live is a lot like her home too; the same way that my family is hers too.

"My house," she answers and I swear that I am not the only one who can pick up on her rude, cold tone.

My face burns a little hot from the embarrassment of having my very best friend, sister, soulmate, talk to me that way; especially in front of everyone else.

I nod and quietly mumble an, "mhm" before my eyes fall down to my fingers in my lap.

Subconsciously, I began picking at them and when I look down to survey them, one of them is bleeding a little bit. Beside me, Brendon looks down too and sees the crimson liquid. His hand reaches out under the table and touches my wrist. I shake my head at him telling him that I am fine, because I am used to this: it is not an unusual occurrence.