BRIE

          A wave of freezing cold nausea spreads across my stomach.

          With Rhett being so hesitant to tell his parents we're supposedly dating for real, I at least expected him to let Andy in on the secret, like I spilled the beans to Nancy, but I can never be too sure. I don't want to jump to conclusions, not when the stakes are so high, and I don't want to be the one who makes him spiral, especially with my concern for him growing by the day.

          With him keeping Andy's private life out of everyone else's prying eyes, including mine, it only makes sense for him to also keep this to himself, but he and Andy are much closer than Nancy and me. They're much closer than I am to Rhett, too, and it's definitely not the kind of thing that is reasonable to be jealous of someone over, and yet.

          I have to remind myself they've been best friends for the exact same time Rhett and I were out of each other's lives and, though it's not like I'm feeling replaced per se—we've never been best friends or anything of the sort, but we were close—it still feels a bit foreign to realize I'm not his person. I haven't been his person for a few years at this point and hadn't given it much thought . . . until now that I'm being confronted with it.

          Rhett has his secrets. He can keep them.

          "You've known Rhett for a long time," Andy states. He doesn't need to ask. I don't like that certain details of my life have been discussed behind my back, but this isn't just about my life, is it? Even Cole knows Rhett and I have history, which is much more dangerous than Andy de Haan knowing about it. "You know he has changed. He's different from the guy he used to be in freshman year, so I can only assume you've known different versions of him."

          "I've known him pretty much my whole life," I confirm. He nods. "We haven't known each other since we popped out of the womb or anything of the sort, but we grew in adjacent circles, went to the same schools, knew the same people. We're . . . inevitable, in a way. If that makes sense. Even if nothing romantic happened, he's always been there, you know? I know it's not exactly healthy to let the presence or absence of someone in your life dictate how stable you are, but I've always found it comforting to know he's a part of my life. Things got a bit awkward after high school, when we broke up for the first time, and, though it was for the better and we both needed that distance to grow and heal, it still felt weird."

          "Yeah, I get it. You grow used to seeing that person every day, they've been a part of your life since you can remember . . . it disrupts your routine when you lose them, even if it's temporarily."

          "Is it like that for you and Jackie?"

          It's only after the words leave my mouth that I realize how invasive of a question this is, and the urge to knock off my own teeth in embarrassment is almost too strong to resist. He takes it with plenty more grace than I would have, choosing to act unbothered by my lack of tact.

          "It's different," he says. "It's always different when there's a child involved. I don't expect you to understand or know exactly how it's like. Don't get me wrong, Daisy is the most important person in my life and there's nothing in the universe I wouldn't do for that kid, but I won't sit here and lie to you by telling you it hasn't been hard. Being a parent is hard by definition, but being a parent while being in college and being the captain of the ice hockey team . . . well." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Sometimes things get hard to balance and, though Jackie is in a similar boat minus the hockey, it's still a bit isolating because no one can truly relate to your exact experience. We're bound together, even if we break up, and it's a completely different type of attachment than what you and Rhett have. No offense."

          "None taken."

          Eventually, Andy straightens and stretches his arms over his head, highlighting how long-limbed he actually is. Short little me feels slightly self-conscious about it. "So, what I was trying to say is that you've seen Rhett change throughout the years. Some of it was just your regularly scheduled maturing, the type of maturing everyone goes through, but I'm sure you've noticed . . . some things. Some things that don't feel quite right, some things that don't fit the image of him you've built."

          "You mean his anxiety? That's not really fair or his fault—"

          "Jesus Christ. Rhett really wasn't joking about you."

          I back away. "Sorry."

          "It's not his anxiety. Not just that, anyway, and I would never blame that on him. There's nothing I don't know about him"—I'll beg to differ—"and I know just how much it frustrates him to get so caught up in his own thoughts. I know how much pain it brings him."

          Andy finally looks at me—really looks at me, not just through a quick glance from the corner of his eye, and I get why Rhett speaks so highly of this boy. The concern, the empathy, it's all there in his face. They really are each other's ride or die.

          "I've seen it, too," I admit. "It breaks my heart to see him like that."

          "Be careful with him, Brie. It's all I can ask of you. I know he has really, really hurt you in the past and he feels terrible about it. I'm sure you know that, but it means everything to him—and to me, by association—that you've chosen to give him a chance to prove he'll do better this time. I know how appealing it might seem to get a little revenge, play him the same way you got played all those years ago, but this isn't the same Rhett Price from back in the day. This is someone who's choosing to open his heart to you and be vulnerable by trusting you with it. After what happened in the summer, I can't, in good conscience, sit back and watch it be torn to shreds."

          "I wouldn't—"

          He raises a hand to cut me off and, while this would've sent me on a rampage under any other circumstances, regardless of who it is (especially a male specimen), I understand this conversation is a bit more serious than my personal icks.

          I know something happened to Rhett—something bad, something serious, something potentially dangerous. That, along with how cryptic he and Vanessa were being about Daniel, terrifies me about what there still is for me to uncover.

          I don't know if all these mysterious events are connected or if what happened was a combination of multiple factors that overwhelmed an already anxious Rhett and, though part of me wants to ask so I can try and help or just be there for him adequately, maybe that's not what he needs. My support can only go so far, and I'm not a professional. Besides, there are things I'm not meant to know about.

          "I won't appeal to the person you needed when you were younger or any type of emotionally manipulative shit like that, and, from what I know of you through this conversation, word of mouth, Rhett, and my sister, I know you're a good person. I know you have morals, and I don't need to remind you to do the decent thing, but I also know things can get . . . intense." He lowers his head, biting down on his bottom lip. "I hope you find it in your heart what it takes to forgive him, even if you don't have to. I don't get to dictate how you should feel about your heartbreak and, at the end of the day, it's your decision, but, for what it's worth, I see the way he looks at you, and it's not something you can fake."

          My heart stops beating for a second there. "You do?"

          He groans, massaging his temples, and it's a reminder I'm overstaying my welcome in this conversation, but he still takes the bait. Maybe I am growing on him, just a little bit. "You're really making me do this, huh?"

          I elbow him. "Come on. Stroke a girl's ego for the sake of our common interest."

          "He looks at you like you're the reason there are sunrises and sunsets. He looks at you like you're magic."

ᓚᘏᗢ

          I've never felt less ready for dinner with the parents than I currently do.

          These are people I've known my whole life, which should, in theory, make things easier to process considering I know what to expect from them and know how to behave around them. However, it adds extra pressure to be absolutely perfect and to match their expectations of me, to be as good or even better than the girl they used to know back then.

          Everyone who knows about today's event—therefore, Rhett and Nancy—have told me it will be fine and all I have to do is be myself. This is lovely in theory.

          In practice, it's not helpful to know I have to be myself when I've never felt like being myself is good enough. Being myself means I'll inevitably fall short of who I need to be, how I need to present myself; even though Rhett's family has never given off any signs that I'm misbehaving or doing something that has disappointed them, the gnawing feeling that I'm taking advantage of their memories of me won't leave me alone.

          Like Rhett, I have also changed. There are some things that haven't fully left and, while I want to be a glass half-full kind of girl and trust that they're good aspects of my personality, there's a side of me that only sees the naive, wide-eyed teenager that let Rhett walk all over her.

          Yes, it was the old version of him that did that, and yes, his family has given him hell over it, but still.

          There's something incredibly humiliating about having distanced myself from them and knowing that's the image of me they were left with all these years—stupid, heartbroken Brooke.

          I'm heartbroken now, too, but for a different reason. Cole shattered me in his own way, stabbing me in the back in more ways than I could ever see coming, but it's a different kind of heartbreak now. The trust I thought was there between us had been wavering for a while and, no matter how badly Rhett hurt me back then, he would've never jeopardized my entire future, degree, and career. One of the things that has always brought us closer together is how ambitious we both are, and there has never not been anything but respect for each other's goals.

          The worst part of it is that people always expect me to be the heartbroken, boy-crazy girl. It comes with my obsessive nature, the deep-rooted desire to be liked so badly I'll inconvenience myself and wreck every part of me to be there for people, and I can't help but feel like it's so manipulative.

          It's one of those words that gets thrown around lightly these days, I know that, but these feelings are too strong for me to reel them in and I spend day after day truly convinced I'm forcing people to like me because I invest so much in them. I've turned all my relationships transactional and it disgusts me.

          It's raining when Rhett parks his car in the garage and something about this feels incredibly nostalgic—both in a good and in a scary manner. It's familiar yet foreign; even though I can technically rely on my memory to adequately navigate this situation, it wouldn't be perfect the way I so desperately need it to be.

          Dinner with the parents is one of those quintessential relationship milestones and it's there in romantic comedies as well, but, in those cases, it's usually to meet them for the first time. I know these people. I was on a first name-basis with them. They routinely ask about me, they want to know how I've been doing. I don't know where exactly we stand now and it stresses me out enough for Rhett to notice it.

          "You'll be okay," he reminds me, for the millionth time since Vanessa invited me over. I feel pathetic for needing this much reassurance, but it still warms me up inside to realize he's giving it to me even without needing me to voice it. "They know you. They love you; hell, they probably love you more than they love me—"

          "No, they don't."

          "Okay, yeah, maybe that's an overshot." I manage a small chuckle, but even that is quickly replaced by a wave of nausea. "You really don't need to worry about my parents."

          "I know it's stupid to be scared, but you know how I get when I'm nervous. I talk too much, say the wrong thing, and I'm terrified of them realizing we're faking it. Even if we've managed to fool everyone else, Cole is suspicious of us, I can't tell whether Andy believes us or not, and your parents know you way too well. Your mom is a trained psychotherapist." Something flashes across his eyes and he winces almost imperceptibly, but I still catch it. He was leaning towards me before, but has fully straightened himself now, jaw clenched. "I don't want to screw this up for us. For you."

          "That's valid, but the more nervous you get beforehand, the more nervous you'll be when the time comes. Trust me. I'd know."

          He opens the door on his side and exits the car in a swift movement. I rush to follow him, but find him standing outside my door before I can get up, ready to escort me.

          I take the hand he reaches out towards me, like a real gentleman, and he helps me steady myself on the wet pavement. Maybe wearing heels wasn't the best idea.

          "Thanks," I say.

          "Of course." He closes the door, then gently presses a hand against the small of my back to guide me towards the exit. "You look incredible, by the way."

          This time, I'm not scared about potentially being overdressed, as I willingly listened to everything Nancy had to say regarding my choice of clothing for the night.

          The heels belong to my ankle boots, which, coupled with my skin-tight black jeans, make my legs look longer—something I'll need around this family. The dark blue cashmere sweater finishing the look is expensive, something I hope will highlight how serious about this commitment I am, even if, realistically, none of them care about the cost of my clothing. My hair has been straightened to perfection with Nancy's Dyson and all evidence of exhaustion has been airbrushed and concealed away from my face.

          From a distance, I look perfect. Up close, though . . .

          I'm welcomed by both Vanessa and Daniel, complete with trademark tight hugs and all, and it's only then that I realize how badly I'm shaking and how much I've missed them. Seeing them every day was so ingrained in my daily routine that it felt extra unnatural to lose, like Andy put ever so eloquently into words when I couldn't, and it becomes more obvious when it's clear I don't need directions to know where I need to go.

          While Daniel pulls Rhett aside—and I secretly hope it's for a casual, pleasant conversation and not to discuss anything that will inevitably stress him out—and Vanessa takes my coat, hanging it by the front door, the familiarity of this house becomes welcoming instead of frightening. The fact that it has barely changed with the passage of time—the framed photos scattered all around are the biggest evidence any time has passed since the last moment I spent here—somehow reassures me there will always be some stability in the world reserved for me.

          Vanessa asks me for help with the sangria—virgin, she tells me, as they no longer keep alcohol in the house—and I happily oblige. It's already prepared and beautiful, displayed in a collection of glass pitchers set on the kitchen counters, and I'm momentarily dazzled by the rich burgundy color of the beverage. For a virgin cocktail, whoever prepared it has done a wonderful job mimicking the tone of the real thing, and my mouth waters just thinking about the taste.

          "Sorry for lying straight to your face, but, as you can see, the sangria is done," Vanessa says, once she catches me staring.

          "It looks beautiful," I retort. "I thought you needed me to taste test them, or something."

          "You're sweet. You know, it really is a breath of fresh air to have you back. Things just haven't been the same ever since . . . you know." Her gentle smile briefly falters, but I pretend not to notice it for her sake. "We missed you around here, and I'm sure Rhett missed you even more. I don't know how he ever managed to convince you to take him back, but I'm glad everything has worked out for the best. I've always been secretly rooting for the two of you behind the scenes, pushing him to talk to you and try to fix things, so you'll have to forgive me for taking the smallest bit of credit."

          I shake my head. "There's nothing to forgive. I'm happy we're working on fixing things, too. If anything, I appreciate the assistance."

          She gives my cheek an affectionate pat. "You've always had a good head on your shoulders, so I know you didn't let your feelings get in the way of a good decision. The world could use more people like you."

          Well, that's a first.

          Most people tell me I'm the exact opposite of that and, honestly, I'm inclined to agree. It's why so many of my decisions lead to heartbreak—I listen to my heart first and foremost, ignoring every rational plea coming from my brain, and it's what gets me in trouble. This big heart of mine comes with great responsibilities.

          "Rhett really came through for me when I thought I had hit rock bottom," I confess, hoping it's detailed yet vague enough to not warrant any uncomfortable questions. She hums, stirring one of the pitchers with a spoon. "It only helped cement my decision. Not everyone would have done what he has done to help me, especially after everything that has happened. It means a lot to have his support—and, well, yours. I missed this house. I missed you."

          "I think it's obvious we all missed you right back. Rhett just hasn't had the greatest of years when it comes to his personal life and . . . well. I'm sure you've noticed it, too." She purses her lips. "That damned Magnolia girl really did a number on him."

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

magnolia beloved.........

at the time you're reading this, FEMALE GAZE is once again being featured by wattpad hq in their enemies to lovers reading list!! so happy it's getting some traction. thank you so much for being here my lovelies