Her eyes are still wide, and it makes me wonder if I really did blow her mind with my advice.
“I’m just direct. I don’t mind flirting and playing around if you know that’s what it is. But there’s nothing worse than feeling almost in limbo.”
I look down at my nails, seeing that the extensions are now on all of my fingers. The technician has cut them down and is adding the color to them.
“It’s funny. Olivia is direct too. She’s always giving me advice that I’ll never take. She wants me to text him and just ask him out or show up at a party I know he’ll be at and walk up and kiss him.”
“Well, her advice isn’t so bad if that’s what you want.” I laugh, easily seeing those statements coming from Olivia.
“It isn’t if you’re fearless,” she says with a laugh. “But unfortunately, that’s not me.”
“Have you and Olivia been friends for a long time?”
“Forever really. We went to primary school together. Our families have always run in the same circles. Olivia is emotional and bold. She says what she thinks and is impulsive. But I love that about her.”
“You two probably balance one another.”
Because everything about Naomi is soft and sweet. She’s easy to talk to, and she seems like she has a kind heart. I can see why Olivia is friends with her.
“We definitely do.” Naomi laughs.
“I’m sorry again about your birthday. I’m not sure Olivia and I could ever be friends, but I don’t hate her. I don’t want there to be drama with us.”
Naomi nods, glancing at me. “Unless Olivia is back with Harry or moves on, she will probably never be friends with you,” she says. “But I think it’s a shame. You’re really nice, and if anything, she should be mad at Harry, not you.”
I smile, feeling relieved that Naomi is still willing to be friends with me anyway.
“It’s just an awkward situation. Because I am with Harry.”
Her eyes flash at me. “Like, you two are together, together?”
“We’re definitely dating.” I can tell she’s shocked.
“That’s weird. Olivia thought that she might get back together with—” She stops talking, quickly closing her mouth. “Regardless, maybe we all can get together. Me, you, and Olivia. I think if she could get past this whole hating you thing, I could see you two as friends.”
And this time, I’m the one who must look shocked.
“We’ll work on it,” I say graciously, not wanting to shut her idea down. But I know there’s no way that’s going to happen.
Naomi smiles, nodding her head at me. She really does look optimistic.
“If you want, you’re always welcome over too. If you ever need a break from the little brothers.” I laugh. “Most of the time, I’m just hanging around with Noah or studying.”
Naomi’s eyes brighten, and I can tell she loves the idea. “Oh, that would be so fun. We could have a proper girls’ night in. Have a sleepover, put on face masks, and watch trashy TV.”
“Think we could get Noah to put on a face mask?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at her in question.
“Definitely.” She grins, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe even matching pajamas as well.”
When I leave the nail salon, I’m feeling good about our friendship.
Or at least, the prospect of having one with Naomi.
It’s weird because she reminds me so much of Anna. They’re both girlie and sweet with bubbly personalities. It makes me feel a little homesick, thinking about it, but also grateful.
I look down at my nails, taking in the new color and length. I’m not sure I’ll ever get them again, but it was fun to do something different.
To get to hang out with Naomi.
To get out of the house.
And to actually hear something from a girl’s perspective.
It’s good to have balance, and I can definitely use some of Naomi’s advice.
I think, to her, the world is simple. Boys are a little complicated, but friends can overcome anything, and smiles should be freely given. And anything pink is always a bonus. That’s Naomi to me, and I really like that. Because my life has seemed way too complicated lately.
And I need simple.
When I get back to the house, I catch Helen in the kitchen, deciding to ask her about a sleepover now.
“How did the outing go?” she asks, peering up at me with hope.
“It went great actually,” I gush. “Naomi wants to have a sleepover this week. I wanted to check with you first.”
“Of course.” She grins at me proudly. “You just can’t stay up too late. And no excuses about classes the next day,” Helen says the words sternly, but her cheeks are rosy, and I can tell she’s excited for me.
“Thanks.” I grin at her, feeling lighter and relieved. “I’ll let her know.”
“I’m glad it went well. You girls will have a ball,” Helen replies.
“Trust me, Naomi already has it all planned out. We’re doing face masks and pizza. The works.” I laugh.
“It sounds like she does,” she says, agreeing.
“I’m going to go up and get started on Statistics,” I tell her, glancing over at the clock.
“I’m making you, Gene, and Noah stew for dinner. I’m going to let it sit in the slow cooker, so you three can eat it whenever, but I’ll be heading over to Harry’s sometime tonight.”
“Okay,” I say, my stomach instantly tightening.
Because I’m worried for Harry, and I don’t know what’s going to happen with his mom today.
And I really wish I could be there to support him.
I head up to my room and sit down at my desk.
I need a distraction, and I’m hoping that if I focus, maybe I’ll be able to finish this statistics project. I get out my notebook, flipping through the notes I took in class, and open my textbook to the right chapter.
I write out the problem, starting from the beginning alongside what I already had from earlier in the week. I fix a mistake that I made, getting further than I have all week.
Yes. I grin to myself, feeling like I can actually do this.
But after another twenty minutes of trying to work through the next step, I can’t.
I slam my book shut.
Why? Why does Statistics have to be so hard?
I get up and pace in front of my desk. I think through the problem again, but I know I’m not going to figure it out.
Shit.
The only thing I can do now is ask Noah for help, and I’m going to have to. I go into the hallway and press my ear up to his door, wondering what he’s doing. I listen but don’t hear anything.
Maybe he’s doing homework, like me.
Or playing his video games silently, though that seems a little far-fetched.
I knock but don’t get an answer. I push into his room, wondering where he is, but my eyes land on Noah, sprawled out across his bed. He has earbuds in, pieces of cut-up magazines surrounding him.
“Whatcha doing?” I ask, taking in the mess around him. It brings a grin to my face, and I jump onto his bed, sending a few magazine clippings flying into the air.