Page 28 of Summertime Friends

I’m not sick to my stomach over food.

My head is spinning, and my vision is speckled.

I know what will happen next, and he is the last person who should see it or can help.

“You’ve got this,” I reassure Blake—and maybe myself.

14

LIAM

Now

I’m sitting on Natalie’s couch when she informs me that her friends are coming over to catch up on Love Island. The UK version, not to be confused with the American version, which is disrespectfully not as good.

“Did you ever think about going on the show?” she asks from the kitchen as she sets out an array of chips, dips, and a charcuterie board.

“Never,” I tell her. “We applied for George a few years back, though. Made it through the first two rounds of interviews.”

“What was the reason he didn’t get cast?”

“I don’t actually remember. I’ll text him and ask.”

“But really, you never thought about it?” I shake my head no. “You’re hot enough.” She winks at me.

“Never been interested. Plus, I’ve been tied up with someone.”

She points at herself jokingly.

I smile at her, and she smiles back.

“Is this you officially asking me to be your girlfriend?” She comes to sit on my lap. Bare legs sticking out of a pair of tiny cotton sleep shorts thrown over the side of the couch. And an oversized Chicago Cubs sweatshirt that smells of cherries.

“Natalie.”

“I know. I know. You don’t do labels.” She mimics me from when I first told her last fall after she brought up the conversation for the first time. We aren’t exactly exclusive, but we aren’t precisely not exclusive. I don’t sleep around as I used to; work consumes too much of my time, but no part of me wants to be committed to justanyone. “I still don’t understand why. Are you ever going to tell me about the girl who broke you?”

“You seriously want to hear about her?”

“Maybe.” She drags her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Fine.” I sigh, and she squeals, excited that I’m giving in to her.

“We were together for years. Thought it was going to be forever, and then one day, she told me she didn’t love me.”

“That’s hardly the details, mister.”

She pushes my chest with her pointer finger. I rub the spot, pretending she hurt me.

Natalie is dainty. A good bit shorter than me, and her figure is petite. With her in my lap right now, I bring my hands to her waist, and the two overlap as I encircle her.

“What do you want to know then?” I ask her.

“Was she beautiful?”

“Natalie—”

“I know I’m beautiful. Shit, I’m hot and probably more attractive than her. So you can tell me if she was beautiful, it won’t offend me.”

---