I'm someone's backup plan. Chapter 2

I lived with Alex.

He treated me like a daughter, hand-washing my delicates, cooking all my meals. I didn't have to lift a finger.

But I wasn't his girlfriend.

He was waiting for Ava.

Technically, that made me the backup plan.

I used to have more self-respect than this. It's all those cheesy YA novels' fault. The ones about the quirky, average girl and the quiet, devoted boy-next-door who secretly loves her.

I read one and thought, *Hey, that's me and Alex.*

We were childhood best friends, inseparable. He was kind and gentle, but I was the only one he was ever really close to. I was average in every way—looks, grades, personality. But he was always there, walking me to and from school, helping me with my homework, even bringing snacks for all my friends, telling them, "Please be patient with Rosie."

I let it go to my head. I was a teenager in love. I started keeping a diary, knitting him scarves, baking him cookies.

Then came graduation night.

Alex showed up at our class party with a bouquet of flowers and a gift. The private room at the karaoke bar was loud and chaotic, but when the boy in the crisp white shirt started singing a soft, romantic ballad, everyone quieted down.

He finished the song, his voice full of a sweet, boyish sincerity that almost brought me to tears.

"I just want to tell you," he said into the microphone, his eyes scanning the room, "that I really, really like you—"

I jumped to my feet. "I like you too!" I blurted out.

"—Ava," he finished.

The room went dead silent. Every single person turned to stare at me.

My face was on fire. "I have to pee!" I yelled, then mumbled, "Excuse me, sorry," as I stumbled out of the room.

When I came back, I peeked through the crack in the door.

There they were, the beautiful class president and my handsome best friend, standing on the little stage.

"Kiss her!" someone yelled.

The boy in white leaned down, his voice soft and reverent. "Can I, Ava?"

The girl blushed and nodded.

I didn't watch the rest.

*