Page 52 of Summertime Friends

We’re standing in the middle of a cobblestone street. No cars can drive on the road, only bikes and pedestrians. The night is crisp, with no clouds and only stars in the sky. Neon signs from restaurants and bars illuminate our faces.

“You’re one of us now, you realize?” George wraps an arm around my shoulders, squeezing me into him as we walk toward our destination. “Drink for a drink. Tit for tat. We pace each other, soyou better keep up.”

“Yeah?” I shrug out of his embrace. “You forget, I went to college in America.”

George smiles at me with too much excitement, which scares me for wherever he’s expecting this night to go.

“Ready?” Liam reaches for my hand, pulling me with him and into the place.

George grabs a round of shots from the bar while we find a high table. Eagerly, he raises them in the air as he makes his way to the table.

Callum and him seated on one side, Liam and me on the other.

“Cheers, mates!” We clink our glasses together before dropping back the shots.

My eyes shoot close, and the cold liquid, vodka, sends a shiver through my veins. I feel it to my toes, and they curl. Opening my eyes, I find Liam focused on me with a feline smile, and my toes curl again.

“Bar?” he asks me.

“Lead the way.”

The guys gave us their drink order, which was beer, as expected. Everyone wanted a beer except for Liam, who ordered a Negroni with an extra shot of gin.

“Something stronger?” I eye him, brows raised in suspicion.

“What should I be drinking then? That piss water you just ordered? I’ll pass.”

“If you want piss water, you should come to the Midwest. This stuff”—I gesture to the glass bottle set down in front of me—“is much better. I promise.”

“Maybe someday I will.”

Maybe someday I will.Butterflies flutter in my stomach at the idea of seeing Liam again—more than today and in Chicago.

What would it be like to see him again? I think I want to.

George coughs once as we return to the table. I pass their drinks to them across the sticky table. He slides my camera toward me. It wasn’t out when I left the table, but I swore I saw it in his handswhen we were walking back from the bar. What he took a picture of, I don’t think I want to see.

“Left ya a lil’ surprise on there.”

“Thanks?” I ask cautiously.

“Someday, you’ll thank me for it.” He winks.

Liam and I slip back into our seats next to each other. Me on the left, him on the right. He sat on the right at dinner earlier, too. Liam whispered into my ear at dinner that he noticed I am left-handed and figured it would make it easier for me to eat and have space without him bumping his right arm into me.

“So, States. Tell us about growing up over the pond,” George says.

“Am I getting interviewed?” I ask snarkily.

“Easy, girl.” His hands rise in front of him. “Only curious about where you are from.”

“Indiana,” Liam beats me to the answer.

“Good memory.” I glance over at him, taking a sip of my beer. He looks proud of himself for knowing the answer. “I’m from Fishers, Indiana. It’s a suburb of Indianapolis. Smack in the middle of the Midwest. If you were to visit, you’d get nothing like this or what I bet London is like. We have miles and miles of farmland.”

“Cal here is used to the farmland. Aren’t ya? He’s from the town of Guildford in Surrey,” George says.

“My grandparents used to be sheep farmers. Dad wasn’t about it and moved to Sydney, where he met my mom. When we moved back, I loved spending parts of the break from school on their farm,” Callum elaborates.

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