Page 27 of Summertime Friends

“I don’t know if I can take this meeting.” I swing my tote bag forward, one of the two straps resting on my forearm, pulling out the folder and my work iPad. I pass them to Blake. “Do you think you can take it?”

“Um, sure.” Flustered, she takes the materials out of my hands. Fumbling with her matcha in one hand, she tries to tuck them into her too-small bag, with the top of the manilla folder and iPad sticking out. “Are you feeling okay?”

Knowing that he’s been here for a year has me sick to my stomach.

“No. My breakfast isn’t sitting well. I think I’m getting sick.”

I take a deep breath, and the air fills my lungs, having the opposite effect.

Blake watches me with sympathy. She shifts on her feet uncomfortably.

“I’ve never taken a client meeting by myself before.”

“Ben will be there, yeah?” I say between breaths. Despite their lack of support, I have to breathe. I force myself to; otherwise, I know where this is heading.

“Yes,” Blake says.

“Blake, you are talented, and your people skills are unmatched. You have nothing to worry about going in there. Review their inquiry and campaign questionnaire first. Then, review how our campaign planning works, the timeline, costs, and where their engagement is required. When you are done, let them ask questions. Jot everything down. Liam might initially come off as intimidating, but that’s just his jawline and gaze. Don’t let it fool you; he’s a softy on the inside—I promise.”

“I’ve met him a couple of times, but do you know him?”

“More than anyone realizes.” My voice drops.

“Did you two date or something?”

No, we didn’t date. No, we were never in a relationship. But I loved him. I loved my best friend.

Liam is always going to be someone to me.

Liam is always going to be the boy who showed me the first glimpse of love. A taste of what it would be like to be happy with someone else.

But no, we didn’t date, but we were good at pretending we were.

There are days when I wish it was because of him—and believe me, he is at fault. No one is perfect, not even Liam Hayes. But it’s my fault. Even when I thought I could bet on myself—on us, I was wrong. I couldn’t get to the point he needed. I couldn’t be the girl—the love—he thought I was.

“No, we didn’t.”

“Then why are you avoiding the meeting? Are you even feeling sick?”

“We have a history I’m not ready to revisit.” I give Blake a quick synopsis of said history. Her understanding was comforting, and she agreed to cover my absence.

I understand that this isn’t professional and that I should separate personal from business, but this feels way too personal. Blake said Ben reached out.

Did Liam know? Is he using work as a ploy to reenter my life? There are a lot of questions floating around in my brain, making their way to my mouth, but I withhold from asking them.

“I’ll take care of it,” she says softly. Blake smoothes out her pencil skirt with her left hand.

Instead of facing one old friend, I face another—my panic, my anxiety. The most intimate relationship I’ve ever had has probably been with them.

The first time I experienced this was the summer of my thirteenth year. At first, they were more common. I forced myself to become good at hiding them. My mom, or Natalie, never knew. In college, I saw a therapist who taught me techniques to master my triggers and work through an anxious episode.

By my junior year, I was healed—that’s what I used to tell myself. Managed. Under control. Conquered. My panic attacks and sleepless nights became rare. They stopped—sort of. They weren’t controlling me, but there was always the slightest concern that they’d return.

Then I met Liam.

My grasp on control slipped the further I fell for him. With each step I took toward him, my inner monsters took two—more like three or four. They caught up to me and drained every ounce of love, possibility, and strength I had.

Then vanished—going back to therapy helped—till today.

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