Friends

Chapter 45

A/N: Chapter 46-91 along with other exclusive content can be found on my Patreon! 

 Jasmine's POV:

"I have to tell you something," I whisper while on face time with Nya, still curled up under the blanket.

"Why do you sound like you just committed a crime?" Nya asks through the speaker.

"I didn't. But... I saw someone last night."

"Okay..."

"Maria."

There's a pause.

"Who's Maria?" she asks, voice shifting—half suspicious, half intrigued.

Before I can answer, my bedroom door creaks open.

Marc pokes his head in, eyes soft, a bottle of water in his hand. "Hey," he says quietly. "You want some water?"

I nod, putting my phone next to me, forcing Nya to look at the ceiling, and sitting up.

He walks in, passes me the bottle, and sits on the edge of the bed like it's second nature.

"You hungry?" he asks, brushing a piece of hair from my face. "I was thinking eggs and waffles."

"Sure," I say, my voice small.

He leans in and kisses my forehead—gentle, familiar, warm.

Like everything is fine. Like we are fine.

And for a second, I melt into it. I can feel the corners of my mouth lifting, my whole body warming at the simple intimacy of it. Flashes of the car ride replay in my head.

But that's what makes it worse.

I can't get Maria out of my head.

Kendrick made me feel like the "other girl" all the time. And I can't help but think I'm in the same situation again.

I keep replaying the way Maria looked at Marc last night. The way she touched his arm. The way she said his name.

Marc thinks we're good. He thinks what we did in the car is enough.

And part of me wants it to be.

But something in me is screaming.

He walks out, heading to the kitchen, and I sit there holding the water bottle like it's supposed to ground me.

"Damn, girl, forehead kisses? My weakness," Nya exclaims from my phone, forcing my attention back to her.

I pick up my phone again and continue telling her about my night. "She was our server. His ex."

"Are you serious?" Nya gasps.

"I know."

"Did he say anything?"

"Kind of. At first he didn't, but then he handled it. I don't know..."

Before Nya can respond, I hang up.

I need to say this to him.

I throw on a big tshirt and walk into the kitchen like I'm not unraveling inside.

He's standing by the stove, shirtless, flipping something in a pan like it's just another Sunday morning.

"Morning," he says without turning around.

"Morning," I echo, leaning against the counter.

"You sleep okay?"

I shrug. "Eventually."