This is the final chapter of The Friends List. If you’re jumping in now without reading the first four, all you really need to know is that it’s set in the summer of 2010. This chapter opens in mid-August. All characters are over 18.
Thanks to RawSilhouette and Ravenna933 for beta-reading the whole series and providing much-welcomed feedback.
It was morning, a couple days after getting home from Kingston, and after hooking up with either the third or fourth of my stepsister Vanessa’s friend group in one summer, depending on what you counted as sex. As I lay in my bed alone, waking up, I reflected on my most recent hookup, Samantha Fischer. She was stunningly beautiful, intelligent, streetwise, and convinced that storm clouds were on the horizon for me. Her warnings had me worried.
I obviously hadn’t set out planning to work my way through a group of girlfriends over the course of one summer, but another of the group, Monique Lachance, had told me back in May that one of my stepsister’s friends had a long-standing crush on me. When I hadn’t been studying for the LSAT exam I’d finally just written, I’d spent a lot of the summer obsessing over figuring out who it was. One thing had led to another, and somehow now I’d hooked up with more than half of them without being any wiser as to the identity of the mystery girl.
I grabbed my phone off the charger on my nightstand and noticed a new notification from Kirsten Bäumler, which surprised me because I hadn’t spoken to her since the last time we’d hooked up a few months ago.
Guten Morgen, Peter. How did your exam go? she had asked. The message had been sent about twenty minutes previously, so I wasn’t worried about waking her. I texted back right away.
Not bad. I don’t know if I passed or not, but I’m sure I can do better the next time I write it anyway. I can write it up to three times in a year, so I think I did fine for a first try. It was good practice.
I’m happy for you, the response soon came back. It must feel good to be done. Obviously, I can relate to school stress! I hadn’t wanted to text you while I knew you were studying so intensely, but Samantha told me you’ve finished, so I wanted to say hi. I’ve missed talking to you.
You could have messaged me before, but it’s so nice to hear from you again, I answered. I hadn’t wanted to interrupt your career, either. How are things in Boston?
Honestly? Way better. There was a long pause while I saw the ‘typing’ icon, then finally the response came in. I know you know how crazy my life was in freshman year, how competitive it was, how insecure I was feeling about my musical talent. I wasn’t letting myself have any fun, and it was causing me so much stress. I was heading towards a nervous breakdown. Then I met you. I learned how to have fun playing music again. I learned I can mix my career, studying, and boys, and not let any of them suffer. I owe you a lot.
That’s amazing! I wrote back. What’s changed?
I’ve started playing in a band with some friends in the program. Let me back up. First, I finally made some friends in the program. Then we started playing in a band together. We’re doing a mix of 80’s covers and synth-pop originals and we’ve started playing pubs around Boston on weekends. I play keyboards and sing lead on some of the songs. Music is supposed to be fun! I’d forgotten that. I can put on spandex clothes and play Kim Wilde songs at night and still get good grades during the day. The other people around me at Berklee aren’t competition, they’re some of the most talented young musicians in North America. It’s okay to have fun with them.
Another message came in shortly after: And I’ve started dating the drummer in the band. Of course I picked the guy who plays the one instrument I don’t, right? It’s early, but I really like him, and, thanks to you, I actually feel like I can have a boyfriend and not feel like it’s a distraction from school. You know from experience that I’ll never be good at casual sex without feelings, but I really like this guy and I can see a future for us together. His name is Paul.
She then sent a picture of the two of them together – blonde, blue-eyed Kirsten radiantly beautiful in a 1980’s spandex outfit with teased big hair and leg warmers, snuggled in with a good-looking dark-haired and dark-eyed guy. He had a teased Robert Smith haircut and was dressed in a red leather jacket.
Oh, I’m so happy for you, I answered honestly. I was a little worried about you, how high-strung and wound up you seemed. It’s so great you’ve finally relaxed and are having fun.
Thank you. How are you? she asked. Then, as I was trying to figure out what to say: Samantha told me everything that just happened between you. I know you were trying to keep things on the DL from Vanessa, but you know I can keep a secret. You can be honest with me.
I’m okay, I answered. I never intended to wind up sleeping with three girls in the same friend group. It just kind of happened. I didn’t think about it while any of it was happening, but it looks really bad in retrospect, right? And now Samantha’s basically told me she’s not going to lie for me, which, that’s fair enough. I don’t expect her to. But she’s got me scared of what Vanessa is going to do when she finds out.
For what it’s worth, Kirsten wrote back, I don’t regret anything we did. You’ve had such a positive effect on my life and I wouldn’t be playing in a band or dating a handsome drummer now without you. I don’t mind telling Vanessa that if it becomes necessary. She’s not going to be happy when she finds out, and yes, now that you’ve hooked up with Samantha, it’s when, not if. Sam’s put up with too much bullshit over her life to be willing to lie for anyone. She’s a straight-shooter, honest to a fault.
You know that I had to end it because I was developing feelings for you, and I hate that I apparently can’t have sex with a boy without falling for him, she continued. Thank you for leaving me alone for a while to sort out my feelings. But now that I’ve got a boyfriend, and now that I’m over you, I want to be friends. Text me, okay? And I’ll let you know when I’m coming home so we can jam again. Nothing you and I did together was wrong or a mistake, and you can’t feel guilty or regretful for indirectly saving me from myself. Like I say, I’ll tell Vanessa that to her face if I ever need to. I owe you that much.