I often said that the only way that you'd ever find me hanging around Luca Donahue, was if there was a loaded gun pointed at my head. For three years I actually meant it. I meant it right up until my best friend started ditching me and forcing Luca...
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Being back at Lu's takes my mind on an unwanted trip down memory lane to a much simpler time. A time of way too many nights spent listening to Hot Chelle Rae on repeat and having dance marathons without any insecurities, because when you've been together since diaper days, nothing was too embarrassing and it was all in good fun. Those nights usually ended with us making the short walk to Lu's for a mile high stack of pancakes, made with love and our favorite sweets.
Tears prick at my eyes as we sit in silence at the back, in our old booth. I keep thinking about all of the memories that we never got to make and how the only ones that I've got to hold on to are tainted by this jarring pain that keeps reminding me that my friendship with Luca is a thing of the past.
"Well, look at you, B! You're all grown up!" Lucinda's wearing a smile that fills me with warmth and I get up and hug her.
She only pats Luca on the head and I realize in that moment that it's not his first time back in forever, unlike me. Something akin to envy flows through me and I slide back into my seat, wanting to cry even more because it hits me then that while I was too busy avoiding all of the places that reminded me of us, he had no such qualms and it makes me want to hurt him.
"What can I get you darlings?" Lu asks, notepad and pen at the ready.
"Pancakes with Oreos and skittles?" I ask timidly, unsure of whether they even still served such contraptions.
"Uh huh." She makes a note of it and turns to Luca. "And for you? The usual?"
He nods. "And two root beers, please."
"Be right back," she says with a happy smile in my direction and then she's gone.
"You came here without me?" I hate that I can't even mask the hurt in my voice.
He looks at me like he expected the question. "I needed to hold on to something good, too."
I scoff at his words, momentarily forgetting that I'm supposed to be playing nice this weekend.
"B, I d—"
"It's whatever," I say with a wave of my hand, not quite ready to have our big fight. "What's your usual?"
He lets me change the subject and answers my question. "Oatmeal raisin on whole wheat." He manages a weak laugh at my grimace. "You should try it sometime."
I wrinkle my nose. "Hard pass."
He sighs and I can almost feel the weight of his sadness. It makes me want to reach out and grab his hand, but I don't. But, oh how I wanted to.
"Thanks for letting me stay last night," he says in a small voice. "You literally saved me from cutting my ears off and tossing them in the fire."
I nod and against my better judgment, I take his hand in mine, like a weakling. "I can't imagine the mess that would've made. I'm just glad that you texted me."
