All Chapters of My Bestfriend's Boy: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

63 Chapters

The First Time He said my name like that

AvaThree months into our relationship, I learned that Ethan Blake had a voice that could undo me.It wasn't something I noticed at first. In class, in the cafeteria, even on our first few dates, he spoke the way most people did—normal volume, normal tone, nothing that would make you stop and listen. But alone, when it was just the two of us, his voice changed.It dropped lower. Slower. Like he was savoring every word."Come here," he said one night, his back against the headboard of his bed, his hand reaching for mine.We were in his room—his aunt was out of town for the weekend, and we'd claimed the house as our own. The lights were dim, the windows open, the summer air thick and warm. I'd been here a dozen times before, but never like this. Never with the tension stretched so tight between us that I could feel it humming in my skin.I took his hand, and he pulled me onto the bed beside him. His fingers traced the curve of my jaw, tilting my face toward his."You're nervous," he obs

The Lake House

EthanJake's family had a lake house about an hour outside of town, and at the end of June, we all went up for the weekend.It was supposed to be a group thing—me, Ava, Jake, Derek, Marcus, and a few other friends. But somewhere between the drive and the bonfire and the bottles of cheap wine that Derek had somehow procured, the group dissolved into couples and clusters, and I found myself alone with Ava on the dock.The water was black glass, reflecting the stars. The sounds of the party drifted from the house—laughter, music, someone splashing in the shallow end of the lake. But out here, it was quiet. Just the two of us and the crickets and the slow lap of water against the wooden posts.Ava was sitting beside me, her feet dangling over the edge, her toes barely brushing the surface. She was wearing my hoodie—the gray one I'd had since freshman year—and her hair was loose around her shoulders, catching the light from the house."Are you cold?" I asked."A little."I put my arm aroun

The Night we Almost Broke

AvaThe first real fight happened in late July.It started over something stupid—I can't even remember what anymore. Something about plans, about canceled dinner, about the way he'd been distant all week. But stupid fights are never really about the thing they're about. They're about everything underneath."You're pulling away," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. We were in his car, parked outside my house, the engine still running. "You've been pulling away for weeks, and I don't know why.""I'm not pulling away.""Then what are you doing?"He ran a hand through his hair—his tell, the gesture he made when he was stressed or upset. "I'm trying to figure things out, okay? I'm leaving in a month, and I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be with you and leave you at the same time.""Then don't leave.""Ava—""I know," I said, cutting him off. "I know you have to go. I know it's not your fault. But I need you to be here now. Really here. Not halfway."He was quiet for a

The Last Night

AvaThe night before Ethan left for Northwood, we didn't sleep.We lay in his bed, tangled together, the sheets twisted around our legs. The window was open, the summer air thick and sweet, and somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking. Normal sounds. Ordinary sounds. The kind of sounds that made the moment feel unbearably fragile."I don't want to go," he said."Then don't."He laughed—soft, sad. "If I didn't know you were joking, I might actually stay."I wasn't joking. Not really. But I knew better than to say that."One year," I said instead. "That's nothing.""Nothing," he agreed.We both knew it was a lie.He rolled over, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look down at me. His hair was messy, his eyes tired, his lips curved in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes."Promise me something," he said."Anything.""Promise me that no matter what happens, you won't forget this. Us. The way it felt."My throat tightened. "I won't.""Promise.""I promise."He leaned down

The Fall Out

MiaI watched her fall apart, and I was the reason.That's the thing about guilt—it doesn't hit you all at once. It creeps in, slowly, like water seeping through cracks in a dam. At first, you can ignore it. Patch it up. Tell yourself it's nothing.But eventually, the cracks get bigger and farther till the dam breaks.The night Ava came to my house, her eyes red, her voice shaking, asking me if I knew why Ethan had been so distant—that was the night the cracks became canyons."I don't know," I lied. "Maybe he's just stressed about school."She nodded, accepting my lie because she trusted me. Because she had no reason not to.I went to bed that night and stared at the ceiling for hours. My phone buzzed—Ethan, asking if I was awake. I didn't answer. For the first time, I didn't want to talk to him.This is wrong, I thought. This is so, so wrong.But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. Because stopping meant admitting what I'd done. And admitting what I'd done meant losing everything.---Th

Tori’s Last stand

Tori I'd been watching Ava Monroe for months. Not in a creepy way—though I guess it probably looked that way from the outside. But I couldn't help it. She had something I wanted. Something I'd been chasing for years without ever getting close. Ethan. I'd loved him since freshman year. Loved him the way teenage girls love—obsessively, possessively, with the absolute certainty that he was meant for me. I'd thrown myself at him a dozen times. Made it clear I was available, interested, willing to do whatever it took. He never looked at me twice. But he looked at Ava. He looked at her like she was the sun, and he was just grateful to be in her orbit. And I hated her for it. So I made her life miserable. Little things at first—comments in the hallway, looks across the cafeteria, the kind of subtle cruelty that left no marks but stung just the same. Then bigger things. The bathroom confrontation. The lies I spread about her. The way I made sure everyone knew she didn't belong with him

The Letter

The Breaking Point—Mia's Letter Mia I wrote the letter in one sitting, my hand cramping around the pen, tears blurring the words. I'd tried to talk to her in person a dozen times. Each time, she walked past me like I didn't exist. Each time, the silence was worse than any scream. So I wrote. Dear Ava, I'm not writing this because I expect you to forgive me. I'm writing it because you deserve the truth. The whole truth, not the scraps I've been feeding you for months. I've been jealous of you for years. There. I said it. The thing I've been too ashamed to admit, even to myself. I've been jealous of your grades, your kindness, the way people gravitate toward you without you even trying. I've been jealous of your parents, who actually show up. I've been jealous of your ability to be happy without tearing other people down. And when Ethan chose you—when he looked at you like you were the only girl in the world—something in me broke. I wanted to be chosen. I wanted to be seen. An

Graduation day— The Beginning of Goodbye

Ava The morning of graduation, I woke up before my alarm. Sunlight streamed through my window, golden and soft, the kind of light that made everything look possible. I lay in bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to feel something other than the strange, hollow ache in my chest. Today was supposed to be happy. Today was supposed to be a celebration. Four years of high school, done. College ahead. A future I’d been dreaming about since I was old enough to hold a pencil. But all I could think about was the last time I’d seen Ethan. The bonfire. The way he’d raised his beer in that small salute. The way I’d raised my hand in return, like we were strangers who shared a secret. We weren’t strangers. We were never going to be strangers. But we weren’t what we used to be, either. “Ava!” My mom’s voice floated up the stairs. “Breakfast! You need to eat before the ceremony!” I swung my legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The girl in the mirror looked different t

The Summer Between

Mia The summer after graduation was the loneliest and most important season of my life. I had to do something to keep my mind together. I worked at a local bookstore, shelving novels I used to read with Ava, trying not to think about the spaces she used to fill. The store was small and dusty, the kind of place where time moved slowly, and I liked that. I liked the quiet. I liked the way the smell of old paper made me feel like I was somewhere else. My therapist, Dr. Chen, had given me a journal. “Write down three things every day,” she said. “Things you’re grateful for. Things you’re learning. Things you want to remember.” At first, I couldn’t think of anything. My mind was a blank wall, painted over with shame and regret. But slowly, day after day, the words started to come to mind. June 15: I’m grateful for the woman who comes into the bookstore every Tuesday and buys a mystery novel. She always smiles at me and that warms my heart. She doesn’t know what I did. June 22: I’m le

The First Year away

Ava College was nothing like I expected. I’d imagined late‑night study sessions and ramen noodles and the kind of freedom that came with living away from home for the first time. And there was some of that—more ramen than I cared to admit, and more late nights than were probably healthy. But mostly, college was quiet. Not the quiet of loneliness—I had friends, a roommate who brought me coffee when I was stressed, a creative writing professor who told me I had “real talent” and made me cry in the bathroom afterward. But the quiet of space. Of distance. Of finally being far enough away from everything that had happened to see it clearly. I didn’t talk about Ethan or Mia unless someone asked. And no one asked, because no one here knew them. I was just Ava—the girl who wrote stories, who ran in the mornings, who sometimes got quiet for no apparent reason. It was liberating. And terrifying. And exac

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