Not Just Friends

By Jordan Meadows

Seventeen-year-old Jen’s best (let’s face it, only) friend Deanna is five years older and big on parties. Jen has been trying to live in Deanna’s world, but she’s coming to realize guys, drinking, and drugs aren’t really her thing. Just as she’s figuring out how to tell Deanna the truth, tragedy hits, leaving Jen struggling to figure out who she is and what’s important to her.
Consumed by grief and guilt, Jen finds support in unexpected places. Stephanie’s sociable, smart, and upbeat—all the things Jen is not. Yet she seems to want to be Jen’s friend. Stephanie is also a lesbian, and when she takes Jen along to an LGBTQIA+ club, Jen starts to see not only her past with Deanna in a new light, but more importantly, her feelings about Stephanie.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
• Release date: Jan 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9781636795188

Jordan Meadows

Jordan Meadows has always been a big reader. When her daughter got into reading Young Adult, she read right along beside her, finding a new favorite genre. When her daughter started writing novels, it inspired Jordan try her hand. Her favorite books involve a capable woman falling in love with another capable woman while they overcome obstacles together. She is doing her best to put more of them out into the world.Jordan lives in Portland, Oregon, and, when not obsessing or agonizing about her writing, enjoys reading, stand-up paddleboarding, hiking, playing board games, and hanging out with her dog.

Book preview

Chapter One

How’d it go? Deanna asked me, eyebrows dancing.

Fine, I lied.

Was he a good kisser?

He had a stuffy nose, so we didn’t kiss very long, I told her. I’d ended up in a car alone with Matt. Or was it Mike? He was an Air Force reservist who’d been dragged along by his friend and fellow reservist who was on a date with Deanna. We’d kissed some, but then he’d mentioned the stuffy nose and said he couldn’t keep kissing. I was not upset by this. He was, objectively, cute, but I didn’t really care. I hated ending up alone in cars with guys for a variety of reasons.

I looked around the house party we’d heard about via coworkers. Where’d your date go?

She shrugged and looked around, too. The kitchen for a drink?

It wasn’t one of the wilder parties we’d gone to, just a typical party. There was music on, a mix of teens and twenty-somethings crowded about. The common thread was that we were mostly Sizzle R people or people they’d brought along. A number of kids from my high school worked there, but they were people I knew more from work than school. Everyone was drinking, except me. I was nearly always the odd man out about that.

I mean, you’ll have to pop that cherry sometime, Deanna told me. He’s cute enough.

I shrugged again. I figured I would eventually, but I wasn’t in any rush. And this kissing-dudes-I’d-just-met shit? The truth was that I didn’t like that very much. I figured I’d like having sex with one of them even less.

So, why was I even here if I didn’t drink and didn’t want to hook up? I’d been asking myself that a lot lately. I’d started going to these parties because of Deanna. That was it, really. I didn’t really (okay, not at all) have friends at school, so I didn’t have a social life before I started going to these parties. Deanna had blown into my life when she’d come back to work at the good ol’ Sizzle R. She’d been a waitress before, but now she was a counter worker, like me. We made a good team, her taking the orders, me ringing them up and sending the tickets to the kitchen. She started inviting me to after-work parties and I’d accepted, wanting to spend more time with her.

Now I followed her like a puppy dog to the couch of this apartment I’d never been in before and settled in to wait until she was drunk enough she’d be ready to leave. I hoped she’d be ready to leave. The other alternative was that we’d end up just crashing at this place tonight, which I hated. Usually that meant pretending to sleep while couples around me had sex or, worse, fighting off some guy who wanted to have sex with me.

When Deanna’s date returned and started making out with her while I was still fucking pressed up against her other side, between her and the arm of the couch, I got up and found an empty bedroom. I sat, head in my hands, debating. Should I leave? Deanna was my ride, but there were options. My mom had always told me I could call her for a ride, no questions asked. I could probably walk home from here. It couldn’t be more than three miles or so. And there was always the Lyft option. There weren’t a ton of Lyft drivers in Prairie View, but if I was willing to wait, I could get one. I’d never left a party I’d gone to with Deanna before, but lately I spent more and more time wishing I were anywhere else. Before these parties, before I started working at Sizzle R, I used to spend my Saturday nights babysitting or going to the movies or even just watching TV with my mom. I missed those days.

Hey, Jen, you all right? Did something happen? a male voice asked.

I looked up and saw Carl, who was both a coworker and a fellow Prairie View High inmate.

I’m fine, I told him. I was just debating going home.

Why? He sat down next to me on the stranger’s bed.

I’m just not sure I want to be here right now, I said.

Did you drive here? he asked.

No, I was thinking of walking.

No, no. Don’t do that, man. He pulled a joint out of his pocket. Here, smoke a little. You’ll feel better.

I sat with him while he lit up, but I declined to take a hit. It wasn’t long before the room was getting to be pretty fragrant, and I went back to the living room.

Eventually, the party broke up. Deanna and I, thankfully, left. She’d been drinking, so I drove. I didn’t always drive. That was another reason I’d gotten less and less happy. I’d found myself in too many cars where the driver had been drinking. If not Deanna, then some date of hers or another friend. I figured it was only a matter of time before something went really wrong. Tonight, though, I was driving. Tonight, it was just Deanna and me in her red Mustang. Tonight, we had the windows down, heat at full blast to make up for that, and the music cranked up. We were singing. I took her home.

As usual, I went in with her, just so she could sober up a bit before driving me home. We settled into our usual seats in her living room. We talked over the evening, reviewing the highlights. Matt/Mike wasn’t one of them. Her date, though, he had promise. Deanna never stayed with anyone very long, but I got the feeling that if she found someone halfway decent, particularly someone who might get her out of here, like someone who was only in town because it was the reservist weekend, she’d marry them. She was twenty-three and had been waitressing since she was in high school at one place or another. Just before this stint at Sizzle R, she’d been working at a restaurant in the Denver airport and hated it. When she came back, tail between her legs, they gave her a counter service position. She’d have to wait until a waitressing position opened back up.

This was the second time she’d gone out with this guy. They’d met when he came into the restaurant to eat. The reservists liked to come in because we served steak pretty cheap. It was one of those places where you had to wait in line, order from the counter, and carry your own drinks to your table. Also, the steaks were mediocre, or so I was told. I wasn’t a connoisseur by any means. I didn’t eat a lot of meat, actually.

Are you thinking about if you’re going to talk to your dad? Deanna asked after we’d exhausted the subject of Tommy, her date.

My dad, who had been MIA in my life since I was three months old, had emailed my mom last week wanting to get in touch with me. My mom had told me to think about it. Other than telling Deanna about it shortly after, I’d put it out of my mind. No.

So, you don’t want to get to know him?

I sighed. "I meant literally no about thinking about it. I’m doing my best not to think about it. I have no idea what I want."

Oh, sure. That happens. She was sitting sideways, facing me. She leaned her head against the couch, flattening the side of her hair a little. She wore her hair in a brown shag that she spent a lot of time messing with to give it volume. The first time I’d watched her go through the process, I was in awe. I spent about five minutes a day on my hair max unless it was a wash day and still not much more then. I wish I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

Tell me about it. I shifted sideways and pulled my left leg up onto the seat so I could face Deanna.

You’re still in high school. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I’m twenty-three and stuck here.

You don’t have to be. You could, I don’t know, save up and get out? I didn’t really have goals for after school. I was just trying to get to the end of high school right now.

She snorted. Where would I get the sort of money I’d need to do that?

I wanted to tell her to sell her Mustang, get a cheaper car, make a budget. What did I know, though? I was a seventeen-year-old outcast. So, instead, I just said, Yeah, that’s the problem, right?

She nodded gloomily, her hair rubbing on the couch as she did. She looked like she was about to fall asleep. Casting about for anything to talk about, I said, I got to pet my neighbor’s dog today. I immediately felt stupid. It was a stupid topic.

Deanna looked interested, though. She opened her eyes and said, Yeah? Cute dog?

And that was the thing about Deanna. When it was just her and me, she made me feel like I was interesting and a peer, not just a high school nobody. I smiled. So cute.

Yeah, dogs are the best. Much better than men.

I couldn’t agree more.

Speaking of idiot men, Lance offered me some daytime waitress shifts. Deanna rolled her eyes at the mention of Lance but looked pleased about the waitressing part.

Well, shit. You’ll abandon me at the counter in no time. It’ll be me and Mary back there. I rolled my eyes about Mary, trying to sound lighthearted. I would miss Deanna when we didn’t get to work together anymore. If our schedules were different, it wouldn’t be so easy to hang out. She’d likely forget about me. Plus, Mary was one of the most religious people I knew, and I found her boring as all get-out. She worked most of the same shifts as me. If Deanna wasn’t there, she’d probably move up from drinks and I’d have to work even more directly with her. Trading freewheeling Deanna for judgy Mary would be a definite downgrade. Just the week before, I’d overheard her talking to a friend who’d come in when it was slow. They were talking about how they were praying for some woman from their church because her son moved to San Francisco, and it turned him gay. Sure. Because no one from Prairie View would stay in the closet until they could escape to someplace they could be accepted for who they are or anything.

I can’t tell if it’s just because he feels bad for telling everyone about my genital warts. She paused. Not that that would stop me from taking the shifts. I’d make a lot more money.

Deanna and Lance had dated for a whole month. It was one of her longer relationships. I hadn’t been a fan. Deanna had tended to go home with him after parties. It had meant a lot less time to hang out with her.

I shrugged. Well, yeah. I’ll miss you at the counter, though.

She shrugged back. It’s only a couple of lunch shifts. I’ll still be on the counter at night.

I knew it was only a matter of time before she shifted over completely, but I didn’t say anything more about it. Yawning and rubbing my eyes, I said, as if it had just occurred to me, Maybe I’ll just crash here tonight.

Okay, then, she said, looking slightly amused about us going through the motions of pretending I wasn’t going to stay, then staying anyway. Let’s go to bed.

I texted my mom to let her know I’d be spending the night at Deanna’s and saw I’d missed a text from her saying she was going to spend the night away from home, too. My mom didn’t involve me in her dating life, but she did date and sometimes slept over. She said if it ever became serious, she’d introduce me. My mom was super sex positive. She’d given me a box of condoms on my sixteenth birthday and had told me she’d replace them as needed, no questions asked. So far, that hadn’t been a problem.

We went to Deanna’s bedroom and stripped down to undies and T-shirts. I kept my shirt on while taking my bra off underneath it. Deanna was much less modest and stripped off the blouse she wore, then her bra before pulling on a sleeping shirt. I snuck peeks out of the corner of my eye while trying hard not to. I was just curious, but I didn’t want to seem pervy.

We climbed into her queen-sized bed. She still lived with her parents, but I’d only ever walked past her parents a couple of times for all the time I spent at her place. The first time it had happened, Deanna had tossed off a This is Jen, and kept moving. To be fair, usually I was over late at night like this when they were already asleep. In the morning, when we woke up, Deanna would drive me home right away. I might see them on the way out or might not.

Her bedroom was mostly filled with the bed. She had a mirror propped up against one wall. That was where she sat, on the floor in front of the mirror, to get ready to go out, a process I’d witnessed plenty of times, although that wasn’t usually the routine. Normally, we went out right from work, but sometimes we met on a night off and then I’d hang out with her while she got ready.

We lay in bed, talking more until we fell asleep sometime after four a.m. It was this part, this just me and Deanna part, that kept me going to the parties I hated.

Chapter Two

Deanna dropped me off around noon. My mom was out and had sent me a text. Running club. Then lunch with the girls. Back around 2.

It was Sunday and I had chores to do. We had a living room, a small dining room, a kitchen, two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. I was supposed to keep my room tidy, change my sheets once a week, vacuum, dust, clean the bathroom, and I was on dish duty on the weekends. My mom did weekday dishes, most of the cooking, and the laundry. Well, and her own room, I guessed.

I got to work, then showered and washed my hair. It had a party smell to it, so it was in need of washing. After the shower, I looked at myself in the mirror to take care of my hair. I applied leave-in conditioner to my rather unruly curls, then scrunched in some product to help define the curls. I made a little effort to make the bob look purposefully messy instead of just messy, but it was only a little.

When I was a kid, my mom, who also had blond hair, but of the straight and fine variety, was always trying to smooth my hair out to make it look tidy, and since she washed her hair every day, she thought I should, too. I finally got tired of it and took matters into my own hands when I was twelve. I looked up what to do with curly hair, opted for a messy bob, and it was what I rocked to this day, for better or worse. My mom wasn’t fond of how it looked like I’d just gotten out of bed all the time, but it was easy and that was what I needed in a hairstyle.

By the time Mom got home, I was eating a bag of microwave popcorn and scrolling through TikTok. I tapped the screen and took my earbuds out when she came in.

Hi, honey, did you have a good night? Mom came over to the couch, still dressed in her running clothes, and kissed me on my head.

It was okay. Had a nice chat with Deanna.

She plopped down at the other end of the couch and shifted to face me. Have you given any thought to responding to your dad?

I shook my head and looked down.

I don’t want to push you one way or the other. This is your decision, but you do need to actually make a decision and not just let it slide by. She paused, maybe looking for a reaction. I fiddled with my earbuds. I think you should maybe talk to someone about it.

I looked up at that. Like who? What do you mean?

Like a therapist. Someone who can help you figure out what you want.

Mom! I’m not crazy.

She actually laughed a little at that, which made me a little angry. No, honey, I’m not saying you’re crazy. People see therapists for all sorts of reasons. I saw one after your dad and I split up to help me process and make sure I wasn’t taking out anything on you.

Really?

Really, really. It was quite helpful. We went onto dealing with stuff about my parents. There was a lot to unpack there. She gave a little nod, highlighting that remark.

She was estranged from her parents and I’d never met them, so yeah, there was stuff. I’d never really felt the lack, though, because Mom was enough.

When I didn’t answer right away, Mom said, Are you thinking about it?

I nodded.

Great. How about if I sweeten the pot?

I squinted at her. Are we talking bribery?

Will it help?

Maybe.

I was thinking if you agree to go for at least four sessions, we could do something fun together.

Like what? I was suspicious. Sometimes Mom’s idea of fun was a pedicure, and I never liked someone messing with my feet.

Her eyes crinkled in amusement. Nothing beauty related. I was thinking…how about Lizzo tickets?

I stood in surprise, spilling the bag of popcorn on the couch. My phone dropped onto the carpet. Really? I bent down to check on my phone. It was okay. Luckily. If it wasn’t, I’d have to pay to replace it. I ignored the popcorn for the moment.

She smiled at me. Really, really. She’ll be at Red Rocks in May. I know that’s a ways off, but…

But nothing! That’s awesome, Mom! Things like concert tickets were not high priority items in our budget. Mom did okay enough to support us, but not okay enough for a lot of extras. I figured I was only getting shipped off to therapy because insurance covered it.

I started singing (or at least calling out, my singing skills weren’t strong) Truth Hurts, which was the first Lizzo song I’d ever heard and still my favorite. I gyrated my shoulders and pumped my knees in an imitation of dancing.

Mom got up. I thought she might roll her eyes at me and leave to take a shower while I called lyrics after her, but she took my hands and danced with me. We did elaborate moves like bumping hips and spinning. She didn’t know all the lyrics, but she knew the chorus, and she sang along when she could.

When I trailed off at the end, we were both beaming. I gave Mom a hug and said thanks again. She squeezed me and said, You’re welcome. I’ll get both things all set up. Now clean up that popcorn while I’m in the shower, then we can watch an episode.

The reminder of both things took the wind out of my sails a little bit, because therapy. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, I told myself. And I only had to go four times.

I cleaned up the popcorn, then cued up our next episode.

We always had a show we were watching together, and instead of specifying, we would say let’s watch an episode to each other. Right now, we were watching Castle. I had mixed feelings about it being a police procedural. My TikTok feed was a mix of mostly pets, art, and social justice. I didn’t have much call to put social justice into action here in Prairie View. The least I could have done was not watch police procedurals. But Mom had chosen it when it was her turn to choose. The deal was that we took turns choosing, and the other one could veto a show after two episodes if it really wasn’t working for them. By two episodes in, I was so taken by both Beckett and Alexis that I wanted to continue. They were both just so smart and I admired them very much.

After her shower, we settled into our respective spots on the couch and started watching. After the second episode, it was nearly five. I was happy to just let the next roll, but Mom asked, Do you have any homework to do this evening?

Not really.

That sounds like maybe there’s some homework to do. Mom wasn’t a huge stickler on school. As long as I got Cs or better, she didn’t really care. Still, she sometimes made a nod at the idea of keeping up at school. Why don’t you make sure you’re ready for tomorrow and I’ll make dinner.

I sighed and turned off the TV. Fine.

There was a worksheet I was supposed to do for math that I’d been planning on finishing during lunch the next day and I wasn’t quite caught up on my reading for English. When I got to my bedroom, though, I lay down on my bed for just a video or two on TikTok before I got started. Before I knew it, Mom was calling me for dinner. Oh well, there was always lunchtime tomorrow. It wasn’t like I had friends to sit with.

Chapter Three

You going out after work tonight? I asked Deanna. We were the last two still on duty at the counter and we were rolling silverware. Occasionally, one of us would break off to help customers, but it was a slow Wednesday night shortly before closing and not many people were coming in.

Nah. I’m going to just go home and crash, I think.

If you’re tired, I could help close.

You don’t have to.

I know. I shrugged. I don’t mind.

Okay, thanks.

A group of customers showed up and I left Deanna to roll while I went to help them. The first stop was the drink station. It was a family who all ordered sodas. I handed them over the counter, and they put them on a tray which they slid down to the cash registers. There was an oven, which was where we baked the cookies we all snuck on our breaks, blocking the view between them and me as we both moved down to the cash register. When it was busy, there would be people in line from the front door, funneled down a hall separating the line from the dining area up to the drink counter, then along the counter to where they placed their food orders. We’d have someone filling drink orders, someone taking orders, someone ringing up the orders and giving them to the kitchen, and someone taking people to their seats. Now, though, close to closing time, there were only two of us. It only took one of us to take care of the customers.

When I showed up on the other side, the dad made a dad joke, Oh, you again. They just make you do everything yourself?

Sometimes. What would you like to order?

After I sent them off to find their own table, I returned to rolling silverware in napkins with Deanna.

I picked up a fork and steak knife and placed them on the napkin I’d laid out before the customers interrupted. The cooks were snickering when I dropped the order. Wonder what they’re on about.

Deanna rolled her eyes. Probably still about the fucking chicken.

What chicken?

Earlier TJ called me into the kitchen and when I got in there, he opened up a chicken breast to show me some bits of cauliflower he’d put in there and was like, ‘Look, warts, just like you.’

Fuming, I looked toward the kitchen. Fucker.

Deanna shrugged. Lance’s fault, really.

It was why they’d broken up. Lance had spread it around that Deanna had genital warts, and the cooks had been ribbing her about it ever since. You could probably sue or something.

I totally should. I’ll just walk into a lawyer’s office and be like, ‘Hey, I dated my manager for a while and then he was an asshole. Do I have a case?’

And the lawyer will be like, ‘Yup. One million dollars coming your way.’

And then I can move to California and live on the beach. You can come with me.

A huge smile took over my face. That would be awesome. Maybe…

Hey, it’s time for you to clock out, isn’t it? Deanna looked behind her to the clock on the oven.

Oh, yeah. Be right back.

You know, you can just go home.

I waved her off and went to clock out.

Lance had halfheartedly told me a couple of times that I shouldn’t help after I clocked out, but he didn’t really seem to care as long as I really did clock out. In the end, it saved Sizzle R money because Deanna would be done sooner, too, with both of us doing the closing duties.

Because of my help, Deanna was ready to clock out right after Lance locked the front doors. Deanna went to take care of that while I went to the locker room to get my coat. I lingered, waiting for Deanna so we’d at least walk out together, but I figured she’d offer a lift.

Sure enough, Deanna showed up a few moments later and gathered her things. Want a ride home?

Sure.

Once in Deanna’s Mustang, I buckled my seat belt. Deanna didn’t. She found seat belts constricting. She pulled out of the parking lot and started toward my apartment. It wasn’t a long drive. I usually walked to work. Before Deanna had started, I rode my bike both ways, but then my bike got left at Sizzle R too many times and I started walking in every time I was on the same shift as Deanna, which was most times.

Are you going to see that Air Force guy again? What’s his name?

Tommy. She laughed a little. Maybe next training weekend. Why? You want to see his friend again?

I scoffed.

She smiled. When are you going to be into someone?

She said it lightly, teasingly, but it still landed hard. I didn’t know. I had never cared about spending time with any guy. It