Tabitha

It began when William texted to ask whether I thought a man driving a Corvette was attractive. I told him an expensive car might get someone noticed, but it couldn't compensate for having nothing interesting to say. He replied, So the driver matters more than the car? I laughed. It was an oddly specific question, but I forgot about it until he started asking more. The questions always came through messages, never when he visited you. They drifted from attraction to relationships, then toward the small things that made someone difficult to forget. I mentioned them once, but you barely reacted, so neither did I. William was your best friend. Surely there was nothing to worry about. Besides, he had a knack for making me feel understood without making the conversation feel serious. He remembered little details, challenged my answers, and noticed things I'd revealed without meaning to. When I joked that he seemed determined to figure me out, he replied, Maybe you’re more interesting than you let people see. I caught myself smiling at my phone long after I'd read it. Soon, our conversations stretched late into the evening. I'd check my phone while making dinner, save little observations to tell William instead of you, and find myself waiting for his replies even when I was sitting beside you. One night, while Shawn showed us a picture he'd drawn, my phone lit up. I glanced down, saw William's name, and felt a little surge of excitement before I could stop it. I turned the screen away from you, then hated how instinctively I'd done it. I told myself I was protecting an innocent friendship from being misunderstood. But when William sent a teasing message that left me flushed, I reread it and began composing a reply that would keep him talking. I wasn't merely enjoying his attention anymore. I wanted him to want mine. Worse, I was already hiding how much that mattered to me. Nothing physical had happened, but I'd built a private intimacy with your best friend.