Page 100 of From Now On

“You don’t need to do that. I’ll walk home.”

“I’m driving you, man. Let’s go.”

“What about Hart?”

“Harlow’s here, and she drove. She’ll drop him, or he’ll stay at her place. No biggie. Come on.”

Aidan seems determined to drive me, so I stop arguing.

I follow him out of Gaffney’s, inhaling a deep breath of damp air. It’s warmer than it’s been since the very start of senior year, another reminder of May’s rapid approach.

One upside of its color: Aidan’s truck is always easy to spot. My SUV—which is currently at a local mechanic getting a new tire put on—is practically camouflage by comparison.

“Do you think I could run a place like that?” Phillips asks.

I glance over, confused by the question, but Aidan’s eyes are on the road as he pulls out of the parking lot. And it’s too dim in the car for me to see much of his expression. “A place like what? Gaffney’s?”

“Yeah.” His fingers tighten on the wheel briefly. “I have the money to invest in something, and I have—well, Iwillhave—a business degree. There’s this waitress who works at Gaffney’s, Zara, who wants to open a brewery. She actually does it—brews beer. I’ve tried a couple, they’re good…” He clears his throat. “So, you think I’d be any good at it?”

“I think you’d be great at it,” I tell him.

Another vehicle’s headlights flash through the cab, revealing the smile on Aidan’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve basically spent the past four years researching the industry.”

He guffaws. “True. Plus, it’ll really piss off my parents if I spend my trust fund on a bar.”

I’ve never met Aidan’s parents, which says a lot about his relationship with them. And about them, period. Aidan’s a really difficult person to piss off, and he could become best friends with a brick wall.

“Where would you open it?” I ask.

“Seattle, probably. There’s no way I’m moving back to LA, and Rye—it’s serious with her. I don’t want to do long distance. Seattle is far enough away I can do my own thing—work, I guess—during the week, but we could still see each other on the weekends.”

“That sounds perfect, man. If there’s anything I can do to help make it happen, let me know.”

“You could come buy a beer, when we open.”

“I’ll be there, Phillips.”

Aidan laughs. “Nah, I’m kidding. First round would be on the house. Friends and family discount. I might make Hart pay, though, depending on the size of his rookie contract.”

I smile, then tentatively ask, “You think he’ll make it?”

It’s a topic we’ve never discussed. I’ve talked to Conor about his dream directly, and I’m sure Aidan has too. But he and I never have.

“He deserves to.”

“He does,” I agree.

“If I’d missed that goal in the championship—if we’dlostthe fucking championship…”

“I know. But you didn’t. We didn’t. There’s nothing else we could have done. Nothing else wecando.”

Which is the toughest part. Knowing a bunch of guys in suits are picking apart Hart’s stats in a conference room, deliberating whether or not to give him a chance.

“He’ll be fine, if he doesn’t make it,” Aidan tells me. He sounds like he’s reassuring himself, as much as me. “His grades are almost as good as yours. And he has Harlow in his corner now. They’re so in love it’s ridiculous. They’ll probably get married before our five-year reunion.”

“Five years? I’d guess three. Andridiculousis rich, coming from the guy who spent most of spring break kissing his girlfriend in a hot tub.”

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