"Am I interrupting something?" Esme peeks over the top of the menu mischievously with a perfectly penciled brow.

Dammit.

I tuck my phone beside my plate and lift my own menu to study it. We're finally having our dinner date, and I'm already being rude. However, I can't help it when Connor decided to text me a picture of himself shirtless in bed with the caption, so lonely. It was such a douchebag move, but it didn't stop my stomach from erupting into butterflies.

"By all means, you can finish typing out the text to Connor. Don't let me stand in your way."

My eyes pop up to hers. "What makes you think it's Connor?"

She rolls her eyes. "Please. You've been blushing and biting on your bottom lip every time you look at that thing. I know your tells." After a heartbeat she adds, "I'm happy for you."

"There's nothing to be happy about. We're just friends." The endearment tastes sour as it leaves my tongue, mostly because I know that whatever this thing is between Connor and me is certainly more than a casual hangout. Feelings are developing, and I'm scared shitless. It doesn't help that I'm making it obvious, either.

The waiter approaches our table to take our order, his eyes never straying from Esme. I'm used to it now after the accident. Compared to Esme's six-foot slender frame with a face crafted by Michelangelo himself, I'm chopped liver. Not that I'm complaining. I'd prefer to be less noticeable. Before the scar, the attention I received from men was almost always unwanted.

Esme orders the most expensive wine on the menu, claiming it's her favorite before she sets the menu down and folds her hands in front of her. Her nails are painted blood red, almost matching her hair. "You deserve to be happy, Aria."

"I thought we were going to save the mushy talk for the end of the dinner."

Esme shrugs. "Better to get it out now so we can talk about irrelevant, stupid stuff." When our glasses of wine are delivered to the table, she takes a long sip. "I'm serious, though. Don't push him away if you like him. Despite what you think, you do deserve to have a life with someone who cares for you."

My eyes are burning as I try to hold back my tears, and now I find myself not as upset that Esme decided to dine at one of the fanciest restaurants in town. The privacy the booth is going to give my blubbering ass is worth it.

"It's...complicated," I reply, clearing my throat. "He's trying really hard to make things official between us, but I don't know if I'm ready. Maybe I never will be. I mean, you say I deserve to have someone who cares for me, but do you honestly believe that? After what I did?"

"Aria." My name is a broken plea on her lips, a glossy sheen coating her eyes. "You need to stop blaming yourself for that night. You didn't know Aaliyah was going to—"

"I should have stayed. We went to that party and I promised to check on her. I forgot to, and then she died. If I had just picked up the fucking phone instead of worrying about flirting with some—"

"When are you going to forgive yourself for this? I mean, do you blame me? Because if that's your mentality, you might as well blame me for her death, too. We both knew she was having a rough night. We both decided to go to that party. We both forgot to check on her. Are you saying I played a role in her death?"

"What? Of course not."

We're interrupted when the waiter returns to take our order, but I'm not hungry anymore. My stomach is rolling with the guilt from that night. The guilt I'll never recover from.

We both wind up ordering salads. When we're left alone again, she says, "You're proving my point. If you don't blame me for her death, why are you blaming yourself? You've been punishing yourself for years over this and pushing everyone who cares for you out of your life, but guess what, Aria? I'm not going to let that happen because I love you too damn much. No matter what you say or do, I'm not going to stop being there for you." Reaching across the table, she squeezes my hand. "You are deserving of love. You are deserving of friends. You just need to open yourself to the possibilities of them."

I'm a blubbering mess as I reach into my purse, dragging out a tissue, but in the process, my purse tilts to its side, spilling the contents. "Shoot," I sniffle, bending down to gather everything. Esme helps, pausing when she grabs the laminate business card and reads the front. "Big Sisters of America," she repeats. "Is this something you're doing? If so, that's incredible."

I hate the hope that enters her voice. I hate that I'll have to disappoint her again by being a coward, but that's exactly what I am. Truthfully, I haven't been able to throw that damn card away without envisioning Monique's disappointed expression. I disappoint everyone, and this time will be no different.

"I'm not. A woman approached me about it a few weeks ago, but I declined the offer for obvious reasons."

Esme makes a hmph sound. "Really? Because it seems to me this would be a perfect healing opportunity for you. I think it would do you a lot of good to become a big sister."

"I'm not qualified."

"You're more than qualified. Do us both a favor and step out of your comfort zone this year. For one, we'll become best friends again, and I can be the girl you lean on to spill all your dirty gossip to. Second, you'll become a big sister and start a therapy of sorts with the girl you're paired with."

My lips quirk into a grin. "Because I have so much gossip to spill, and I don't want to enter this big sister program only to disappoint the girl I'm paired with." My mind strays back to Monique and her hopeful brown eyes. "What if I fail her?"

Esme gives me a soft smile. "What if you don't?"

"Oh, come on. Don't go all philosophical on me."

"I'm not. I'm just speaking the truth. And you're going to sit there and tell me you don't have gossip when you're fucking the center for the California Cyclones?"

"Esme!" I shoot her daggers when the waiter places our salads down, quickly getting the hint and scurrying off. "To me, it seems as if you're the one with all the gossip."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She asks around a mouthful of salad.

"Levi?" I prod. "Are you going to act like there isn't a crush there? History maybe? I haven't been able to decide."

"Oh, don't you dare try to turn the tables on me. We're still talking about you and making a promise to get you out of your comfort zone."

The banter between us is so effortless. Esme reminds me why she's been my closest friend for so many years. Despite how hard I've tried to keep her at arm's length, she's never given up on me. Not once. And even though we haven't been as close these past couple of years, sitting here at dinner with her is like picking back up right where we left off.

And the warmth flooding my chest because of it has me considering an alternate route to all of this pain and agony I've been lugging on my shoulders for so long. What if there's a different way to survive? What if there's a way to forgive myself other than denying myself of friendship and love?

I hold out a pinky finger to her—a tradition we used to follow as kids—and Esme's face lights up at the sight. "Fine. I promise to enter out of my comfort zone as long as you agree to do the same with Levi."

She quirks a brow. "What makes you think I'm the one staying in my comfort zone? I made a move, and he politely rejected me, and that's that. There's nothing more to the story."

"Levi rejected you? That's impossible. He's always tongue-tied around you and acts as if you're the greatest thing to ever walk the earth. Why would he reject you?"

Esme takes a large gulp of wine. "A question I've asked myself relentlessly. Maybe I'm not his type, but when we're around each other..." She purses her lips, deep in thought. "I don't know. My ego took a hit, and I haven't gained enough courage to ask."

"Ah. So what I'm hearing is you do have a comfort zone to escape. You have to grow a pair of balls and ask him." My pinky finger still dangles in the air, and Esme eyes it hesitantly before heaving out a sigh and interlocking with me.

"I'm only going to ask him and embarrass myself so that you can make it to the other side, Aria. The greener one."

The smile grows wider on my face. "I hope you're right."

Author's Note: 

Esme and Levi's story is going to be soooo gooooood ugh!!!

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