"Oops!" Here we go again...

“Okay, listen to this: LilyChef says she caught her boyfriend with his cousin. Or well, she thought it was his cousin because her boyfriend introduced him like that, but he was lying to her!” I yell passionately, slamming my open palm on the table. “She caught them in the cellar, with their hands down each other’s pants! Do you get it?”

“I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be reading me the messages you get, you know? Even if they use a screen name, there’s still this thing called privacy that should be respected,” Mike tells me, his voice still raspy with his “bedhead voice,” as I like to call it.

He keeps shaking his head at every email I read aloud while standing at the stove, shirtless and in shorts—definitely no underwear underneath—making breakfast.

“I’d like you to tell me if you ever felt like touching a non-cousin of yours like that…”

“Hazel…” he calls out, his tone slow and seemingly calm, but hiding a huuuge warning underneath.

Every time he says my name like that, I imagine a flashing danger sign appearing over his head.

“I was just saying… You know I get carried away with hypothetical scenarios…” I don’t even get to finish my sentence before Mike turns to me holding a silicone spatula in one hand—the green one with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle faces that says “Party Pizza,” which my brother Andrew got me for Christmas—and the pancake pan in the other—the one with emoji shapes, also a gift from Andrew for the same occasion.

Flanked by emoji faces on one side and Ninja Turtles on the other, I try with everything I’ve got not to burst out laughing, because I know Mike is dead serious right now.

“I find it absurd that I even have to say this, given our sexual chemistry, but if it reassures you… I don’t like men, okay? I’m extremely sure of it, and I’ve never even been curious about it. Plus, I don’t get along with any of my cousins, and I only have two friends from high school that I barely manage to talk to on the holidays,” he says, annoyed, but still holding it together.

As sexy as his morning energy is, my attention hyper-fixates on what should probably be the very last thing I ought to be focusing on.

“No, wait… You have friends?”

“Of course I do,” he says, as if it were obvious. It would be, if we were talking about anyone else, but Mike Holden having friends? From high school?

Hazel, don’t be sarcastic… I tell myself, biting the inside of my cheek.

“They must be…” — ...saints… or have built up antibodies to your grumpiness and perfectionism… — “…really great friends. I mean, if you still consider them friends after all these years, they can’t be half bad…” — ...or as grumpy as you are…

I can already imagine the scene: three big guys in their early forties drinking beer and growling scientific concepts and stolen philosophical ideas at each other.

I have to meet them!

He looks at me suspiciously, as if he can tell my mind isn’t fully in this conversation.

“I want to meet them!” I say energetically. His eyes widen for a split second, and he clears his throat. My request must have caught him off guard.

“Well, look… I haven’t talked to them in a while…” he says, plating the pancakes.

Something in his demeanor has shifted, and I can’t figure out why.

Did they not leave things on good terms the last time they spoke? Did they have a fight?

Honestly, that wouldn’t surprise me, but if he called them friends, I’m sure it’s nothing beyond repair. Mike isn’t the type to hand out titles like that to just anyone.

“It would be a great excuse to catch up, to reconnect. I’d be really happy to see you laughing and joking around with some old friends…”

“Hazel…”

“I’m serious, Mike. I love that my friends are your friends too—or rather, that you manage to tolerate them. But I’d really love for you to let me into your circle, too. I mean, we’ve been living together for a couple of months now…”

“Almost three and a half months,” he specifies. “You moved in the first week of November, and it’s almost mid-February,” he says, his gaze sharp again.

I need to get out of here before he starts talking again about the elephant in the room—the issue hovering over our relationship like a vulture waiting for its prey to die.

Just when I thought I had no excuse to avoid the impending conversation, my phone rings, and I’m almost moved to tears by Brenda’s impeccable timing.

“Sorry, but I really have to take this…” I tell him, pointing a finger at Brenda’s name flashing on the screen.

“But breakfast is ready,” he says, a disappointed look on his face.

It feels like a punch to the gut. A mix of conflicting emotions: guilt and a sheer survival instinct.

“I’ll just be a second, I swear.” He nods, and that feeling in my stomach starts to feel more like a bottomless pit.

I slowly get up from the chair, walk past the large sectional couch, and leave the living area to lock myself in the bedroom.

“Brenda?” I answer the call.

“Hey, Hazel! Code red! Raoul asked me out to dinner tonight, and I need a makeover, emotional support, and a confidence boost! So, you have to be at my place by five. I already told Lucy, too. You guys can’t bail on me!” she blurts out right away, without leaving any room for me to reply.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it… Mike and I are about to have breakfast right now, and things are already a bit rocky…” I try to explain.

I know there are plenty of hours between now and five in the afternoon, but that’s precisely why I can’t guarantee I’ll be there. A million things could go wrong in the meantime, and right now, the tension at home is a bit thick.

“Oh no… Please don’t tell me you guys are fighting again,” she says, already sounding bummed out.

“No, okay? We’re not fighting. We’re just talking about something else… He was telling me about his friends,” I say without thinking, trying to deny that she’s right. I don’t know if Mike would have wanted me sharing that information, but there’s no harm in it, right?

“Mike has friends???” she asks, hit with the exact same shock I felt when Mike told me. “They’re definitely not from Stonebrook, because we’ve never seen him hanging out with anyone…” she starts speculating immediately.

“No, they’re not locals. Honestly, I don’t know where they live… it sounds like they went to high school together and lost touch at some point.” Okay, maybe I should stop right here, considering I don’t really know much about it. “He was kind of vague about it… I suspect they’re not on good terms anymore,” I tell her. Way to go, dummy! Now shut your mouth. “You know what? Forget I said anything. Once I find out more, I’ll let you know.”

“And about this afternoon?”

“Oh, right. How about I update you later?” I ask cautiously. The last thing I need is to get into a fight with my best friend, too.

“Okay, fine… But you better make it a yes.”

“I’ll do my best,” I promise before hanging up.

When I go back to the kitchen, I find Mike lost in thought, staring at his phone. I clear my throat to get his attention, and I see him startle—he didn’t hear me coming.

“Is everything okay?” he asks me, acting like it’s no big deal.

His mood has shifted again. Is it really possible that talking about these friends of his threw him off this much?

“Brenda has a date with Raoul tonight. She asked me and Lucy to go over to her place for the pre-date phase…”

“Pre-date phase?” he asks, confused.

“Yeah, it’s the most important part before a date… You can’t skip it. You know, it’s when you figure out the outfit, makeup, hair… It’s the moment your friends hype you up and cheer for you to give you a confidence boost,” I explain, hoping he understands how important it is.

“Does that mean every time we went out together, you guys put on something like that?”

“Well, no… Not with you. It’s not like you and I ever had actual official dates. This is different,” I tell him, maybe a little too casually. And I regret it immediately, the second I see the hurt look on Mike’s face. “Obviously, that’s totally fine… See, it was just different between you and me… It simply wasn’t necessary…” I say, trying to fix it, but the more I talk, the more I feel like I’m digging myself into a hole.

“Yeah, sure… I get it…” he says, shrugging and forcing a smile, turning his gaze down to his plate—clearly trying to hide how he really feels.

I know that if this hurt his feelings, he wouldn’t tell me right now: he always needs time to process things, to overthink them, before deciding if it’s even worth arguing about.

“What time are you supposed to be at Brenda’s?” he asks out of nowhere, picking up the syrup and pouring it over his pancakes. He’s putting on way too much, I think, but I don’t point it out to him.

“At five… The prep phase takes quite a while…” I say, a little embarrassed.

He chuckles and nods, amused. That quiet laugh lifts my spirits.

He passes me the syrup and a bowl of chopped fruit. “Now eat something,” he says.

It’s almost five in the afternoon by the time I park Mike’s car outside Brenda’s house. Lucy’s car is already here.

I would have gladly walked, but Mike insisted I take his car, even though I explained that Lucy would just drive me back later.

He’s so stubborn! I don’t know if it’s a universal trait for men over forty, but he’s always super protective and caring. I whine and act dramatic, but honestly, only because I love it when he insists.

I’m impossible, I know. Sometimes I wonder what I’ll be like when I’m forty, too.

I brush off the pointless thoughts—right now, the mission is helping Brenda—and get out of the car.

I head to her front door and ring the bell. From outside, I can already hear my friends laughing, and I instinctively laugh, too.

Brenda lives in a small, two-story apartment building, and she’s lucky enough to be on the ground floor. That means: no elevator, a private entrance that opens up to the shared courtyard, and zero bullshit from downstairs neighbors.

“What do you girls think of this one?” Brenda asks, modeling the third potential outfit on her list for Lucy and me.

“Personally, I think you should show more leg,” Lucy suggests. “They’re your best feature, you should use them to your advantage.”

“Yeah, that’s true… But what if he gets the wrong idea and Brenda decides she doesn’t actually feel like going to bed with him?” I pose the question.

“Are you kidding? Brenda hasn’t thought about anything else for weeks!”

“Still, she could change her mind…”

“Excuse me…” Brenda sings out. “I’d like to remind you both that I’m still standing right here.”

“Okay, let’s hear it. Why on earth would she change her mind?” Lucy challenges me, completely ignoring our friend—you know, the actual one going on the date tonight.

“He could stink like sweat!” I practically yell. Then I turn directly to Brenda. “Don’t act like you forgot the awful stench coming off him that time he stopped by the convenience store to see you during your shift.” My words sound almost like a lecture. But from the disgusted look that suddenly washes over her face, I can tell she didn’t have to dig very deep to dig up that unpleasant memory.

“He said he’d just come from the gym…” she tries to make excuses for him, but without much conviction.

“Who goes to see a woman knowing they stink? And before you say anything else,” I add quickly, seeing Brenda about to counter, “gyms have showers!”

Brenda shuts her mouth and stays quiet.

“Okay, so maybe we should look for something you can take off if necessary to reveal the goods, just to make sure he gets the message loud and clear,” Lucy declares.

After countless tries, we all agree on a fitted knit set consisting of a sleeveless dress with thin straps that hits just above her knees, and a matching cropped cardigan with a turtleneck and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The cream-colored set, paired with those sheer-look leggings that are super trendy right now, flatters her olive skin tone amazingly well. On her feet, a pair of camel-colored cowgirl boots with a small matching purse.

“You look like a total babe!” Lucy tells her enthusiastically. I nod, trying to mirror her excitement, but fail miserably.

I’m thrilled for her, but every time my mind drifts back to Mike and me, I can’t help but sigh.

“Okay, spill the beans,” Brenda says, grabbing a chair and dragging it over to sit right in front of Lucy and me. “Did you guys argue about the apartment again?” she asks as she sits down.

Lucy shifts in her chair so she can get a better look at me.

“You two teamed up on this, didn’t you?” I ask them both, shocked.

“Stop acting like you didn’t see this coming. How much longer did you think we were going to stay quiet about it?” Lucy steps in.

I turn to look at Brenda, hoping for backup, but obviously, she was the one who brought it up… Naturally, she’s not about to tell Lucy it’s none of her business.

“Okay, fine,” I say in defeat, raising my hands in surrender. “There was a moment today where I thought we were going to get into it again, but we didn’t, okay?” I sigh.

“Mike passing up a chance to talk about it? Does that sound weird to anyone else?” Lucy notes.

Brenda shakes her head, then asks her, “Do you think he gave up?”

“Well… Hazel definitely knows how to wear people down. It’s possible…” she replies.

“I’m standing right here, you girls… and guess what? I can still hear you!” I tell them, waving my hands.

They glance at me for a split second and go right back to talking to each other. “Mike wouldn’t give up on something like this. We both know how much he cares about it,” Brenda continues. “Unless…” she says, trailing off and leaving me hanging, too.

Now I’m actually curious.

She looks at me, narrowing her eyes and staring intensely, like she’s waiting for me to finish the sentence.

I give her a confused look in return. She shakes her head and sighs. “Come on… Didn’t you tell me that at one point you guys talked about his friends? The ones he hasn’t talked to in forever…” she specifies.

I was hoping she’d forget about it or not find it relevant, but honestly, it was after I brought them up that Mike completely changed the subject.

After breakfast, we cleaned up the kitchen, had sex on the counter, then again in the shower; we went on an impromptu little day trip without going too far from Stonebrook, and had lunch out before coming back in time for my plans with the girls.

The sex wasn’t weird, and neither was the sudden little outing… but the fact that he didn’t say a single thing about the apartment? Yeah, that was beyond weird.

And yeah, his whole mood shifted right at that exact moment: when I started asking questions about his friends.

Suddenly, everything that happened after breakfast felt like it only served to distract me from the conversation we’d just had.