Page 118 of Summertime Friends

“How is it that we did these things to be close to each other yet kept ourselves so far apart?” I ask her.

“Anger, hurt, insecurities.” She sighs. “I had a lot to figure out about myself. I’m not saying you were the martyr for me to change, but it took that summer in London to learn what I did.”

“I don’t feel that way, States,” I assure her.

“I’m not perfect—Brandon is a testament to that, but I am trying. I’m trying to break these habits.”

“I can see that.”

“It’s hard to unlearn twenty-eight years of life,” she hesitantly chuckles. “But you are worth unlearning for.”

I kiss the top of her head, holding her close to me. Picking up the box, we walk over to her couch and spend the rest of the evening reminiscing, laughing at her baby pictures, andtrying.

48

EMERSON

Three Summers Ago

Cal picked me up twenty minutes later.

Liam and I laid there for most of that time. I almost told him I loved him, trying to salvage us, but my anxious what-ifs choked the words right out of me. Everything I’ve ever wanted was right there, next to me, holding me, and I couldn’t do anything to stop myself.

When you lie to yourself enough, those lies become your truth. You realize they’ve become a truth the moment when you can’t dissociate them from who you are. I decided twelve years ago that love wasn’t real. A lie, I understand, that became this giant, monumental lie that I told myself.

I’m not worthy of love, and that became my truth.

For the first time in my life, there’s someone I want to undo it all for, but I couldn’t figure that out quickly enough.

I went to the bathroom to clean myself up. When I exited, Liam told me that I could crash at Cal’s tonight, and we could figure out everything else with my logistics back to Chicago tomorrow.

I left my stuff there. Taking only enough clothes for the night and my toiletries. I hoped that this wasn’t real, just a bad dream.

If it was, then tomorrow, now today, I could undo this.

Liam didn’t say another word to me as I walked out his door. I brushed past him in the kitchen, once again with another sliver of hope that he’d stop me and wake me from this bad dream.

He didn’t.

I stretch out my arm from the bed in Cal and George’s guest bedroom, feeling around for my cell phone on the nightstand.It’s only 7:30 a.m.

I could try to sleep for another couple hours, I tell myself.

Sleep. Ha. That’s a joke.

Sleep was something I didn’t do last night.

My head is throbbing, and my eyes are heavy and sore. Rubbing my face, I can assume everything is puffy without looking in the mirror.

Callum, the best friend he is, made sure I was comfortable before he left for his date last night. He offered to cancel it, but I can’t ruin another relationship. I insisted he still go.

I ordered sushi from his couch, hoping it would make me feel better. The only place I knew was KENSU, Liam’s favorite, which he took me to on Monday. By the time it was delivered, I was overwhelmed thinking about him. I cried myself to a restless and sleepless night.

This morning, my emotions haven’t recovered. I’m still. . . confused and frustrated. That summarizes it well enough.

There is a knock on the door. Callum opens it carefully.

“You alright this morning?” he asks.

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