If It Makes You Happy

by Julie Olivia

“God, I’m so pissed at you,” she hisses. “Pissed at me?” “You like him!” I blink. “What are you talking—” “We didn’t do anything!” she whines, throwing a defeated hand in the air. “I lied. Because I needed to see you squirm for a teensy second.” She leans forward with her forearms on the table. “Shells, he talked about you all night. All. Night.” “No, he didn’t,” I breathe in disbelief. “Yes, he did.” “So, you didn’t kiss?” “Are you joking me?” she asks with a laugh. “He didn’t even look at my cleavage, which, for the record, is incredible. I put glitter on the girls.” I stifle a laugh. “He didn’t look at your sparkly boobs?” “He didn’t,” she says with a flat stare. She smacks my arm. “Cliff likes you, Shelly. What are you doing?” “I don’t understand the question.” “What. Are. You. Doing?” she says, enunciating every single word. “That man would jump off a bridge if you told him to, except, whoops, he’s already jumped, and he’s now

down the river, waiting for you to tell him what to do next.” I scoff out a laugh. “Sara—” “He’s hot. He’s nice. He’s funny. He opened doors for me. He heard me blab on about art school and actually listened. Guys don’t do that. Trust me.” “Sara…” “Do me a favor,” she snaps. “What?” “Go get laid.”

“Be happy with the stupid, amazing man next door who is stupidly obsessed with you.”

“Because I’m really confused about us and I’m trying to sort through it,” he confesses. My body heats. Goose bumps skitter over my arms. For once, I’m not sure I like how honest Cliff is. “Us?” I ask. “Us,” he echoes. “We agreed it was fine if we were friends, but…then you set me up on a date with your sister. And…it’s not…I don’t know. I said yes, so it’s my fault too.” “If you felt weird about it, why’d you agree?” I ask. “Because you told me I needed to move on. And, listen, you’re right, but…” He groans, as if upset with himself now. “But then I found

out you never really felt the same about it as I did. And that…” He shakes his head. “That wasn’t fun to hear. Especially since it didn’t come from you.”

hole opened up in my heart. I don’t want to go on more dates. I want Michelle. Not as a friend. Not as a fling. I want her.

“Because you mean more to me than just a simple, confusing kiss.”

the floor. See me, see me, see me. Finally, he does. And our gazes snag. They always do. There isn’t Brittany, Emily, Sara, or Carol. It’s me, Cliff, and his blue eyes. Cliff and the little line in the corner of his mouth that deepens when he starts to smile. Cliff and the barely there bend in the bridge of his nose. Cliff and the small scar above his upper lip that I traced with my fingertips. Cliff and his tense jaw. “Because I’m really confused about us…”

How could he, at any point, think I don’t have feelings for him? I have feelings. Happiness. Longing. Frustration. The tightness in my chest is so all-consuming that it feels like I’m getting shoved deeper and deeper into a six-foot grave I dug for myself. Oh, I have feelings for him all right. I have— The next thought makes me freeze.

I love him. I love him. Sarcastic, floppy-haired Clifford Burke. I love the man I—damn it—set up with my sister. The man who told me he’s sorting through his feelings for me, and I was too stubborn to address them. The man who called me in a panic when he lost his girls. The man who depended on me, who gave me a bed under his roof, even when we hadn’t talked for days. I love this man.

“I want you to be happy and—” His next words almost come out in a whisper. “Have you ever thought I might be happy with you?” I tense, taking in a shaky breath. “You can’t mean that.” “I almost wish I didn’t.” “But you said—” “I say so many things that I don’t know what comes out of my mouth half the time,” he says. “But you do…you make me happy. So, there. I’m stuck in my own damn head with thoughts of you that I can’t get rid of. So, what do I do? Huh? What do I do?”

I’ve wanted this for so long. Maybe as long as I’ve known her—as far back as noticing the absence of that ring on her fourth finger.

With Allen, it was all serious conversations and work. I think I craved the adult feeling of being wanted and respected. But with Cliff, it’s…easy. It’s respect, accented with adoration. It’s flannels instead of suits. It’s not going to fancy parties; it’s playing in the snow.

“We’re gonna make it work, okay?” “How?” “Hmm,” I muse, pulling her closer. “Well, because you’re a wonderful, stubborn woman, and I’m the kind of man who will pay astronomical phone bills to reach you.” I grin down at her. “So, how can I help?” “With what?” “Anything. To make you a little less stressed.”

I choke out a laugh. “Michelle—” “Good luck with your boner,” she whispers, reaching behind her to pat the growing bulge in my jeans for good measure. I let out a frustrated growl as we cross into the living room. Brittany digs through