Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

37

Ruby

Love.

The word cycles through my head for one solid week as we do our usual Trivia Night, as I toil away on my work computer, as I text Bennett with our usual smiley faces and GIFs.

Does my best friend still love me?

Rationally, I want to say he doesn’t. Bennett is with Jolene. He loves Jolene. He told me so, and he was confident too.

But it still invades my brain.

Even when they announce my coworker getting the promotion I wanted, I congratulate him with a smile because my best friend might still love me, and that is so much better than the silly celebration cake at my job with icing that paints my teeth and tongue blue.

Bennett plans a dinner for the group at Chicken and the Egg on Friday. We don’t normally stray from The Honeycomb, but I’m too nervous to care. I want to talk. I want to ask him if it’s true.

Do you still love me?

Should I ask that though?

I walk into Chicken and the Egg on Friday, feeling off. Normally, I love the restaurant’s kitschy theme. There are chickens upon chickens upon chickens. Little glass cases are built into the walls with windup toy chickens, chipped plastic plates with a chicken mascot from this fast-food chain or that corporation, and faded Polaroids of chicken suits from various sports teams.

It’s all fun and happy and weird, but when I see Bennett standing under the curtain to the private room, when he flashes me a playful grin with the fan of lines beside his eyes, I wonder where the chicken-y optimism disappeared because the weirdness in me is unsettling.

Bennett looks great tonight, as he always does. He’s wearing that one band T-shirt that fits tight around his chest and hugs his biceps. His jeans flex around his muscular thighs with each step. His hair is down by his shoulders, which I love because it’s wild and messy and so him.

After I take him in, I also finally notice Jolene on his arm.

Oh.

Jolene never hangs out with our group. Not that we haven’t invited her to a million things, but she prefers to stay at home, doing whatever it is she does. But she’s here. Tonight.

Any remaining chicken-y good feeling seeps out of me, like a chicken-shaped balloon squealing out air.

That’s okay. Not a big deal.

I nudge Bennett, my arm hitting his bulky biceps. I look around the private room with its hanging curtains and framed chicken prints and whisper, “Swanky.”

He chuckles at me. Jolene gives me a side-glance. I tug my arm away.

I take a seat at the long table in the private room we rented, next to Emory, who looks bored out of his noggin, staring at the chicken clock on the wall, like maybe the feathery big hand will be farther along in the night than it is.

He grunts in greeting, raising his eyebrows with a sigh.

I look around the table at the rest of my friends, watching as Theo fiddles with the free bowl of cherries, eyeing Lorelei, who looks just as weird about tonight as I feel. Quinn is next to Lorelei’s brother, Landon, and they sit just a little too close. Weird. I thought they hated each other. Ever since he moved back in town, they’ve been fighting. What’s changed?

Orson finally arrives late, waving his hand in the air and standing next to Theo. They’ve been secretive lately, too, now that I think about it. A few weeks ago, I could have sworn she was flirting with him at the bar, and now, they’re laughing, and I think I see Orson pinch her side under the table.

Bennett grins over at me, but it’s nervous. He’s off too.

Seriously, is everyone strange tonight, or is it just in my head?

Then, Bennett orders champagne, which is also super unusual. He stands with a single flute of bubbly, knocking a spoon against the glass.

His eyebrows are pulled in as he looks from us to the glass, then back again. He’s a mess of nerves, but then again, he’s never been one to present in front of people—whatever he’s presenting.

Maybe this is something big. Maybe he got a promotion. I wish he’d told me about it beforehand. That’s not normal for him. But we haven’t been entirely normal for a week now, have we? Not after the woods. Not after I heard the still in love with his best friend.

Maybe he is.

Maybe.

“Um, hi,” Bennett says awkwardly, cringing at himself as he holds the flute of champagne.

“Hi,” we all chorus together.

I giggle. I like us.

He laughs and continues, “Well, I wanted to thank everyone for coming.”

“Speech!” Orson yells.

Theo nudges him in the stomach.

“Getting there.” Bennett grins that gorgeous grin of his with the halfway smile and the little lines. “Um, well, I like to have my close friends around for all the big things in my life. For all the moments that mean the most to me. And today is a big moment. Tonight, I mean. Right now. Uh …”

Something in me turns like a key. A hidden lock in my soul, a clicking in my brain.

Bennett reaches out his palm toward Jolene. Blinking, she rises out of her chair.

My stomach drops right down to my lap.

No, further down.

To my feet, which are stuck like anvils to the floor.

Wait.

“Jolene,” he starts, but I blink because I swear I’m seeing spots across my vision.

Wait, wait, wait.

Bennett lowers down to one knee.

Stop. No.

I want the Earth to stop turning. I want time to freeze. I want to disappear back to our tree time and our treasure maps and …

And then my best friend pops open a ring box with a ring that is not meant for me and asks, “Will you marry me?”