Page 91 of Summer After Summer

She chucks me under the chin. “We’ll see.”

“Besides, it’s not like Fred wants to be with me.”

“Sure, right.” Ash reaches for the charm bracelet. “And what about you?”

I pull my arm away, embarrassed. “I wanted to get under his skin.”

“Mission accomplished, I’d say.” She nods to the side of the dance floor where Fred is standing, scowling in our direction.

“I’m sure he’s simply reminding himself of his lucky escape.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s with Lucy.”

“He’s not going to marry Lucy.”

“Sophie seems to think he might.”

Ash puts her arms around my neck like we’re slow dancing. “That’s wishful thinking on Sophie’s part.” The song ends and a new beat starts. “OMG,” Ash says, “is this what I think it is?”

I listen for a second. “If you think it’s ‘In Da Club,’ then yes.”

“Yes! It’s perfect! Because it’s your birthday!”

“And we’re going to a party.”

We laugh as the dance floor clears out. But Sophie comes to find us, and we start to do an old routine we used to do as girls, a hip-hop line dance where we thrust our arms out and turn ourselves around while we shimmy. By the time the song’s half over, Charlotte, Ann, and Lucy have joined us. I haven’t heard this song in years, and yet I still know all the lyrics, as does everyone else. We shout them out, self-censoring the bad parts so we don’t offend anyone, and raise our hands to the roof, and by the end, the whole club is watching us as we shout about it being my birthday.

The song ends, and we link hands and take a bow, receiving our applause as is our due.

There’s a pause in the music and we disperse. I head toward the bar, thinking I’ll find Wes there, but instead it’s Fred.

“Can I get a fizzy water?” I say to the bartender. The sound system starts up again, playing “Heat Waves” by Glass Animals. A slow rhythmic beat about late nights and thinking about someone. These lyrics hit a little too close to home. “And a gin and tonic?”

“On my tab,” Fred says.

The bartender looks at me for confirmation, and I shrug. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Fred glances at me. He’s holding a glass of red wine. “Having a good birthday?”

“It’ll do.”

“Some surprises, I guess.”

“Yes.”

“But you and Wes are separated?”

“Yes, we are.”

“But working on things?” He lifts his glass to his mouth like his question is casual, but it feels like anything but.

“It’s a confusing time.” I take my water from the bartender and take a long drink. The glass is sweating in my hand. “How are things with you and Lucy?”

“She’s a sweet girl.”

“I’ve always liked her.” I put the water down and pick up the gin and tonic. One sip tells me that the bartender made it a double like he knew I needed it, which I do. I take a step away from the bar, wanting to be in a crowd, not alone with Fred.

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