herself ever since the day she met David Whitman, her best friend Renee’s
boyfriend. Justine is determined to ignore her growing feelings for the
irresistibly charming David, until one night, when she finds herself in the bed
of the one person she should stay away from.
When Justine and David’s affair ends in heartbreak, Justine is forced to repair
the damaged friendship with her best friend. In doing so, she learns that right
and wrong decisions aren’t always black and white, and sometimes you have to follow
your heart to see where it leads.
Somewhere around midnight, the Fireball bottle was empty, and David was sitting unusually close to me on the couch. It seemed as though the more we drank, the smaller the space between us became. He leaned over and passed me the final shot. Our knees were touching. My leg began to shake. I raised my glass to his in a final toast.
“To new friendships,” I declared.
“Friendships,” he repeated, smirking. Then he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “But what if I don’t want to be just friends?”
I could smell his cinnamon breath, just inches from my face. His breath was warm in my ear. My heart began to race, and I knew something was about to happen. Everything inside of me was gravitating toward him, like a magnet. I felt that tingly, happy drunk feeling buzzing all over my entire body, and all I wanted to do was lean over and kiss him.
David looked up at me, and even through hazy eyes, I could still see the intensity behind them. He reached out and took my hand in his. I felt warm all over.
“Justine,” he slurred. “I’m not just saying this because I’ve been drinking, but… I think I’m really falling for you.”
I couldn’t think of a reply. My head felt like it was in a cloud. I was floating, somewhere high up above us. It was the one thing I needed to hear, but the last thing I wanted to hear. Because, despite the fact that I felt the exact same way, he was still my best friend’s boyfriend.
Unfortunately, the logical part of my brain that was supposed to remind me of that was buried underneath vast quantities of whiskey.
I stared at him for a long time, but I couldn’t make my mouth move. What could I say? That I loved the way his eyes widened when he looked at me? That I loved his mischievous little smile? That he made me feel as if love really did exist? That he was on my mind every waking minute we weren’t together?
I couldn’t. Because deep in my heart, there was someone I loved more than him. And even if she was three thousand miles away, I could never do that to her.
Stine murder mystery novels inspired her to start writing her own.
music column in Worcester Magazine. She also worked as a music journalist for
Starpulse News Entertainment and Jamsbio Magazine, as well as a fitness
journalist for Prevention Magazine.