Besties

This story is by Chelsea Jones and was part of our 2024 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

I’ve been at work for two hours and can’t stop looking at him. The shape of his jaw, the cut of his nose, those broad shoulders, his 5-foot-10 frame. He’s perfect.

Greg was decent looking in college. But eight years can do a lot for a man.

“Sabrina, can you show me how to upload this file again?”

The timbre of his voices breaks my reverie.

“Sure.” I hope I don’t sound too eager.

Greg started at the engineering firm a week ago. When my boss introduced us, the recognition was instant.

“Sabrina?”

“Oh my gosh, Greg, how are you?”

The trip down memory lane went from there. How his friends went clubbing with my friends. How we studied hard for and nearly failed organic chemistry. How we tailgated before home football games. Go Cougars.

I haven’t told Brianna yet, but I will when I meet her this evening. Lately, it’s been a pastime of ours. Swapping stories about dates and potential mates. Our social media feeds have been swamped with marriage proposals and pregnancies. Hopefully, our times are coming soon.

Brianna has been helping me plan my housewarming party. It’s a townhouse, nothing big, but I’m freaking proud of myself for saving up for the down payment.

I turn on my street and see Brianna’s red Lexus already parked out front. She’s looking in the mirror and re-applying lipstick. Since we were her kids, style has always been her thing. She has a reputation for winning tough cases for clients. But I’m sure her tailored suits could sway the jury just the same.

“Hey, Sabrina!”

“Hey, girl!”

Brianna settles into a bar stool at the kitchen island as I wash my hands and take two wine glasses out the cabinet. I pour each of us a drink.

“I think you should put the artwork we got from HomeGoods on that wall over there. It’ll go well with the yellow accent table,” Brianna says as she takes a long sip.

“Hmm… I can see that.” I remove my shoes and sit in a bar stool across from her.

Brianna takes another sip. “Girl, I’ve been dying to tell you. Guess who I ran into at the grocery store.”

“Who?”

“You remember Greg from college? The brother is fine.”

I nearly spit out my wine. “O my goodness! He and I work together. He’s the new hire at the firm. I’ve been training him for a week.”

“No shit!” squeals Brianna. “O my gosh, it’s a sign! The Lord has heard my prayer!”

She tells me about the conversation she had with Greg. How he moved to the area after losing his father. How she sensed that he was single. How he could possibly be her husband.

“I invited him to your housewarming. You don’t mind, right?” Brianna eyes me over her wine glass.

“Umm…no, but don’t you think you’re moving kind of fast?”

“Girl, in this age, women can’t wait around for men to chase them. They have to take the initiative.”

I laugh and ignore the disappointment settling in my belly.

On the day of the housewarming, I’m welcoming friends and acquaintances into my home when I see Brianna and Greg. Together.

“Hey, Sabrina!” she shouts while waving. Greg, smiling, tagging along behind her.

Throughout the evening, I watch Sabrina throw her head back and laugh out loud. It’s the happiest I’ve seen her in quite some time. Once, as I’m glancing away, I catch Greg’s eye. He smiles, raises his glass to me, and nods. I smile and nod awkwardly back.

Brianna and Greg spend a lot of time together over the next few weeks. Two movies. A concert. A dinner at that new restaurant downtown.

Brianna gushes like a teenage girl receiving a wink from her crush.

“Sabrina, he is such a gem! So kind, thoughtful, and fun!”

I force my face to smile. I’m quiet.

But I also love seeing her excited. Jake had taken a toll on her. She caught him cheating with her roommate.

For days Brianna wouldn’t get out of bed. She wouldn’t shower. She wouldn’t eat.

She looked pitiful when Jake came to pick up traitor roommate. I sat on the bed next to her and watched the U-Haul leave.

“Come on Brianna. You got to get up. Better to dodge a bullet now than later.”

With time the heaviness lifted. Once, while out shopping, she said to me, “I have a friend who sticks closer than a sister. Thanks, Sabrina.”

At work my attraction for Greg grows. He likes the Philadelphia Eagles, like me. He loves Chinese food, my favorite. At times, I think he’s staring at me as I type.

One evening my Honda doesn’t start. A read icon blinks. Shit, dead battery.

Greg pulls up. “Everything ok?”

“I left my lights on this morning.” How stupid of me.

Greg chuckles. “Let me give you a jumpstart. I have cables in the back.”

I watch as he lifts my hood, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he squeezes clamps around terminals.

“Alright, Sabrina, you’re good to go. I can follow you home in case the battery stalls again.”

I invite him inside and offer him a coke. It’s the least I could do.

He sits at the island and takes a swig.

“You know, I never got to tell you at your party… but nice place.”

“Really? Thanks.”

“Yea, my dad talked about moving to the area before he got sick. I took it hard when he passed.”

“Oh, Greg, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. It’s fine. Still struggling but therapy is helping.”

Greg shifts in his seat and looks at me. My breath hitches as we stare.

“I um, should get going. See you at work next week?”

“Right, see you.”

Greg heads to his pick-up truck, and I imagine us holding hands on the beach. The saltwater tickling our bare feet.

I quickly push those thoughts away. He likes Brianna, right? She’s a great person. I don’t want her to get hurt.

After a lunch break, I ask, “Greg, how do you feel about Brianna? She likes you a lot.”

He lets out a small laugh and then sighs. “She’s great. Great sense of humor and smart. She’s shown me a lot around the city.”

I look down at my chipped nail polish as he raves about her, hiding the funkiness I feel that it’s not about me.

Then he nearly blurts, “I think we’re just better off as friends though.”

“Oh really?” I respond, caught off guard.

“Umm… yea. Actually, Sabrina, I like you. I want to get to know you better. I was hoping we could hang out.”

My eyes grow wide. I get butterflies in my stomach. I want to take him up on his offer. But Brianna. I can’t hurt her. I am not a traitor.

Instead of responding, I excuse myself and pretend that I have an important call. Greg looks embarrassed. When I return to my desk, we don’t readdress the topic, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

So, I call Brianna. “Hey… I don’t know how to say this, but I think Greg likes me… and I kind of like him.”

Brianna is silent and then her emotions flare. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you went behind my back. How dare you.”

Before I can say anything else, she hangs up. I’m hurt. Didn’t think she would react that way. But then again, how was she supposed to act when her best friend told her she liked the guy she was hoping to marry.

I text her. “Hey, I’m sorry. It’s not what you think, I promise.”

I wait for her reply. Nothing.

Two weeks go by. Silence.

It’s a rainy Sunday and I’m flipping through TV channels. I land on a network showing The Parent Trap.

I start tearing up as I recite every Lindsay Lohan line. When the movie first came out, Brianna and I couldn’t get enough. We were like the twin sisters in so many ways. We just weren’t twins.

My phone buzzes.

“Hey” her text says.

“Hey” I text back.

I miss her.

“I’m so sorry I over-reacted,” she says. “I felt something was off with Greg and I. I guess I was too into him to admit that he wasn’t into me. I had no idea you liked him too.”

We decide to finish our conversation in person at my kitchen island.

“Brianna, you’re too valuable to me as a person. I don’t want to lose my best friend over a guy. I won’t entertain a relationship with him.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Greg is a nice guy. I think you two could be good for each other.”

“You think so?”

“Yea, I really think so. Now let’s go roam through your closet and find something sexy for when Greg takes you out.”

We both laugh.

She’s my best friend, and I’m hers.