When Avalon showed up at his door, more than a little tipsy, he wasn’t too surprised. “Heyy, mind if I com in?” she asked, clearly having had a drink or three. Jeff was somewhat used to this. Usually, Ava would show up after having a fight with her boyfriend, and he’d let her vent about it and stay the night. They were friends, but for Jeff, it was more like the friendzone. After being shot down a few times with the typical, “I love you, but not in that way,” and, “You’re a really nice guy, but we’re just friends,” he had resigned himself to a completely platonic relationship with her. He still fantasized about her, and sometimes even cried about how she would pick assholes over him, but ultimately he was and would always be just a friend. His other friends, few as they may have been, made fun of him for it, calling him a simp, and deep down he knew that was what he was.
“Yes, of course, what’s wrong?” he asked almost artificially. He already had a good idea of what happened.
“I- that son of a bich! And tha whore Brittany! To timing slut!” Avalon was clearly pissed.