| published! under the new title MEET ME IN THE MIDDLE | Eden knows she can't love Truman, the boy with the angelic smile and devilish eyes. Why? He's her best friend Katie's older brother, who she strictly promised she'd stay away from.
But when a...
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E D E N
Santana bought a new couch. It was pastel pink with metal legs and I absolutely fucking hated it.
She was laying on it with her feet dangling over the sides, a magazine on her lap. "This friendship quiz says we're not compatible," she said when I walked inside our apartment.
I threw my backpack onto the table and sat on the carpet. The couch was only big enough for one person.
"Is it because of our taste in couches?" I asked.
She sat up quickly. "What? You don't like it?"
"It's pink."
"What's wrong with pink?"
I collapsed on the ground and pointed to her magazine. "You were saying."
"Right." She lay back down, turning on her side to face me. "This friendship quiz says we're not compatible."
"Why?" I asked instead of laughing at her for taking a quiz like we were in elementary school.
"Because we've slept with the same guy. It's the first question it asks. Look." She waved the page in my face and, sure enough, it was right there beside a #1.
"This magazine is bullshit, San." I paused. "Also, we haven't slept with the same guy."
She threw the magazine across the room so quickly it could've given me whiplash.
"What?" I've never seen her eyes so big. She slid off the couch and fell onto the floor beside me. "You guys haven't slept together?"
"No. . ." I toyed with a strand of the carpet, avoiding her eyes. "We've been dating for like two weeks. We're going on our first date tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Truman called me after class and asked," I said, smiling. "He sounded kind of off. The cockiness was at a three instead of a ten."
"Weird," Santana murmured.
"Totally."
"So is it gonna happen tonight then?" She was wiggling her eyebrows.
"It'll happen when it happens," I answered.
"Great, so we can keep being friends until it does," she said, grinning.
I grabbed a pillow off the couch—also new, also pink—and threw it at her face. "We can still be friends after it does."
"Want some pointers? I can tell you what he likes—I'm kidding!"
Her laughs were muffled by the pillow I held to her face. I kicked her before walking into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for leftovers. "Where's my Chinese?"
"I ate it!"
I peeked my head around the wall. "Two things we're not doing in this apartment. One, eating my food. And two, talking about having sex with Truman. Deal?"
