The Way We Were Before

2 - "I know how I used to be."

"So you actually received an invitation? Like, in the mail? He sent an invitation in the mail? Like, an actual piece of paper that said you had been invited to—"

"Yes, Vi. An actual invitation, handwritten, using an actual pen and an actual stamp that was sent to an actual post office to be actually sent to me," I say, shoving my best friend playfully.

Violet Marks. Best friend since moving to town five years ago. She was the pretty blonde-haired girl with brown eyes, long legs and tanned skin. The one I actually hated for the first few months after moving schools because she always seemed stuck-up from a distance. Eventually, we were partnered up in chemistry, a subject we both despised. I realised she was actually a decent human being and boom, we were friends. The rest is history.

She's sipping her milkshake, grinning wildly. It's the sort of grin that scares me. She only uses it when she's thinking of something bad.

"Lottie is right, as per usual. You have to go, Lu. It'd be crazy not to at least drop by."

"Like I have a choice," I huff, swirling my own straw around my vanilla milkshake. I rest my face in my hand, frowning down at the table. "He hates me, though."

"Well, clearly he doesn't. You don't get an invite in the mail if someone hates you."

"I guess," I sigh, still not excited about the fact I'm going to see Easton again.

Let's face it, when you're five years old and you make a pact to always be friends with someone, you don't see a possible reality where your parents die in a fire and your best friend loses his dad too. No one becomes friends thinking that they won't be one day, but that is exactly what happened to Easton and I.

"You know what?" Violet says, grasping my hand over the table. "Seeing as we are here, buying food, we might as well use our resources and find you a completely new outfit to rock the socks off of Easton Carter."

"I don't think that's necessary," I deadpan.

"Whatever!" she says, grabbing her bag and walking off towards the nearest store. "You need to lighten up! You got invited to a party, not a funeral!"

Even though her comment doesn't faze me, she covers her mouth like she's sworn in front of the pope. "I shouldn't have said that."

I frown at her, confused. "What? The word funeral? Vi, it's okay. I do have a sense of humour, you know."

She shrugs, "I know, it's just—"

"I know," I mutter, keeping pace with her. "I know how I used to be."

There was a time when I didn't think about anything except the fire. A time when I would lie in bed, eating nothing for days while Lottie screamed and cried for me to just get up. I knew that I had been hard on her and the day that I finally snapped out of it was the day I saw how broken and defeated she looked. I never wanted to see her like that again, so I pushed through the pain as much as I could, knowing I couldn't keep living the way I was.

"You know I haven't reacted to words like that for years."

She smiles, squeezing my arm gently. "I know, but I still worry about you. I don't want you to ever go back to how you were. Especially with all the progress you've made. Sometimes I worry that something might trigger it."

"You don't have to censor yourself around me. I know you. I know how you act. If you stopped acting like yourself around me, I'd feel like you were pulling away."

"You know that will never happen," she grins.

I shake my head. "How did this conversation get so dark so quickly, anyway? I thought you were taking me shopping."