He Always Chose I Best Friend,Until The Day I Stopped Waiting

Miles didn't even stop to think. "Then let's stay at Georgia's tonight. I'll sleep on the floor."

Then he added one more thing.

It was meant for me.

"Georgia, let Lesley take the master bedroom. She's timid. A bigger room with more light helps her sleep."

I stood at the entrance of the theater.

Cold air slid down my collar.

The fever from yesterday felt like it was creeping back.

The two of them were already walking toward the parking lot, side by side.

Not one of them looked back at me.

I stood there a long time, until my phone buzzed.

It was a message from Greg James, the senior Lesley had been crushing on for six years.

It was already the twentieth one.

"Georgia, anything you want me to bring back from over here lately? I'm coming home next week."

He asked me this every so often.

I'd never once replied.

This time, I did.

"Vinyl records. And perfume."

The records were what I wanted.

The perfume was what Lesley liked.

I wanted to give the two of them one more chance.

Miles must have picked up on how cold I'd gone.

Over the next few days, he suddenly turned attentive.

He warmed milk in the morning, gave me a goodbye kiss before heading out, and never came home in the evening without a bouquet.

But his phone never stopped chiming with messages.

The person sending them was always Lesley.

The fruit cake he brought home after work was the flavor Lesley had told him about.

The sleep music he played at night came from a playlist Lesley had sent him.

Behind every attempt he made to please me stood Lesley.

That night, he was staring at his phone again, typing, a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Lesley says we should take you camping this weekend to relax."

I set down my book and looked at him.

"Miles, you've been with me for seven years."

"Do you not understand even a little about me on your own?"

His mouth opened, then closed. He looked flustered.

"Georgia, I just get scared of doing something wrong, saying something wrong, and making you even angrier…"

The words jammed in my chest. I didn't know what to say.

That evening Miles cooked a whole table of dishes, all the things I loved.

He sat down across from me and smiled, a little nervous. "I remembered all of these myself. I didn't ask anyone."

I'd just lifted a bite when my phone rang.

It was Lesley.

"Georgia! My pipe burst, there's water all over the living room, what do I do?"

Before I could even speak, Miles had already set down his bowl and stood up.

"I'll be quick. You eat first, don't wait for me."

I sat at the table alone.

Chopsticks in hand, unable to swallow a thing.

After a while Miles's video call came through.

It was a habit of his.

Every time he went to Lesley's alone, he'd keep me on video the whole time to report in.

But I watched Miles walk in, not a single question, and find the slippers like he'd done it a hundred times, changing into them.

Then he dug out the toolbox at Lesley's place.

That faint warmth in my chest cooled, bit by bit.

After he fixed it, he packed up the tools, muttering, "How many times have I told you, don't crank the water heater up so high, the pipe will burst, and you just won't listen."

Lesley leaned in toward the camera to tattle on him. "Georgia, look at him, snapping at me again!"

I didn't say anything. I hung up.

An hour later, Miles came back. But Lesley was right behind him.

Lesley looped her arm through mine and shoved Miles toward the guest room. "Tonight I'm sleeping with Georgia. Don't come bother us."

Miles raised his hands in surrender and went to the guest room.

The lights off, Lesley curled her arms around mine, the same as when we'd squeezed together at ten years old.

"Georgia, Miles is planning to propose to you." Her tone was thrilled.