Enemies with Benefits

enemies with benefits | 16

Chapter Sixteen: Hanging Out

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"Mike?" Daisy said curiously, head tipping to the side. "Mike Prescott? The one from our biology class? Brown hair, blue eyes? Friends with a lot of football players?"

I was in the middle of tearing through my closet, so I hardly looked over to her as I said, "yes, Daisy. No matter how many times you ask me, the answer will be yes."

"I'm just finding it hard to believe. Not because of you, or anything. But because of Alexander." Daisy said, likely looking confused as she watched me from my bed.

I hated how the image of Alexander popped into my head at that very moment. Promptly shoving it aside, I threw all of my concentration into the growing mess on the floor, diving through pinks and greys and blues to see if I missed anything.

However, my response to my best friend's question was a lot more cool and collected. I answered, "why, because he's the eternal frustrating bodyguard?"

"No - well, in a way yeah, but that wasn't what I was referring to. I meant more in the way he always pulls pranks—"

I groaned, stopping her from finishing that sentence. "Daisy, please. Don't start with this again."

"You know it's true. When boys pull little girl's pigtails in the playground, it means—" Again, I prevented her from finishing what she wanted to say. I've heard it all before, and it never made it true.

"—when little boys tease little girls on the playground, they're being an asshole. When seventeen year olds - almost adults, I should preface - mess around with seventeen year old girls, they're still being an asshole. Intentions don't take away their shitty actions."

From my bed, I heard her sigh. "If you say so."

It was just then that I pulled out a bleached pair of high waisted jeans and held it out in the air. I presented it to Daisy, watching her reaction carefully to see if she approved. And from the smile that reached her face, along with the two thumbs out she threw out for me, I got her answer loud and clear.

I placed the pair of jeans onto my bed before I went back to the unruly pile of clothes I had created on my floor, searching through the many colours to see if there was anything that could match. I'd never been one to care about whether an outfit matched or looked good, but for some reason it felt important this time.

"So... is this like a date?" Daisy eventually said.

I shook my head. "No, we're just hanging out."

"Oh right. That's good. I don't really know Mike, but I don't really see the two of you working well. You know, despite everything that happened, I still think that A—"

"Speaking of dates," I quickly interjected. She was my best friend, and I loved her, but I also hated how she saw the nonexistent brighter side to a certain somebody, and would never let me forget her opinion on him. "Any date plans with Tyler? I saw how close you two were at the football game. Figuratively and literally."

Turning a bright shade of red, she turned her face away from me. If being in love meant you get so easily flustered like this, count me out. I already get embarrassed enough, and something like this might just kill me. But on Daisy, it worked - the girl who was usually so bubbly and confident shying away at the thought of one person.

Two years of pining does wonders.

Thankfully, the diversion of the topic allowed Daisy to forget what she was originally saying, so instead she began talking about Tyler and not a guy who's name starts with an A.