"You love him?"
I don't know what to say.
I know the answer is 'yes' but I don't know how to say it. It's my best friend asking, I should be able to say it. I should be able to spill it out so simply. I shouldn't feel guilty expressing the love I have for a guy to my best friend. Jethro is the last person I should feel hesitation with.
"Yes."
"How?"
What does he mean how?
"How? How what?"
"How do you love him?"
"How do I love him?"
"Yes, how do you love him?"
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I shriek and a few heads turn to look at our table. I forgot that we were sitting in the middle of a food court because he's getting me so heated so quickly.
"Sorry." Jethro tells to an elderly couple out of respect or because he's embarrassed of me. "How do you love him? How do you love a guy you barely know? How do you love a guy who has absolutely no personality? How are you spending so much time with this fucking asshole, avoiding and pushing me off to the side for him. You're not going to Stevens birthday party because of him. We haven't had a movie night in so long because of him. He's practically ending our friendship of years and years after some months or what-fucking-ever and frankly I can't stand it."
"Why are you so emotional over this? You encouraged me to find someone for so long and I finally have someone good and you're totally against it."
"Because he's not good, Bella. That's what I'm trying to tell you but you're not comprehending my words."
"You don't even know him." And that's right, he doesn't. He spent a total of three hours with him throughout that weekend at the beach. That's basically it. He's infuriating me and if that's his goal than it's working. How dare he address me like this over my relationship nonetheless in public.
"I know guys like him."
"You know nothing about him. The only thing ruining this friendship, Jethro, it's you. It's you; really. I have no idea what to say because you're just," I move my hands around my head and scrunch my eyes closed tight, "you're fucking pissing me off."
"Don't you dare cry." He tells me.
"Why the fuck would I cry?" Really? Why would I cry? He's not hurting me.
Actually, he kind of is. He's ripping apart a guy that I adore, that I love, that means the world to me, though he's supposed to be there for me no matter what. Friends don't do that. Friends with as much history that we have don't do this. He wouldn't like if I started to rip apart a girl he fell mad for. I'd have to pretend to like her at the least. I'd have to encourage the relationship but tell him to be cautious in the most non-insulting way, because that's what friends do. If he just sat down and talked to Harry, resolved his issues, we'd be fine. Harry said he'd be civil and he's doing just that. He hasn't made horrible comments about Jethro and look at Jethro, look what he's doing. It's not fair.
"Because I know you. When you get angry you cry. I know you're angry because you moved your hands in the air and scrunched your eyes. Does Harry know that? Does your precious Harry know anything about you? He sure as hell doesn't know you like I d-"
"He knows almost everything you do about me,"
"Keyword is almost."
"I'm going."
I stand up from the table, causing more heads to turn as the crazy girl finally leaves. I grab the coffee cup and throw it out into the trash, fling practically. The strap of my bag on my shoulder begins to lightly fall as I rush and I'm constantly having to fix it.
