Page 55 of Summertime Friends

My upper body is inching closer and closer to him.

I almost forgot we have company at the table. That we aren’t the only two at this table, in the bar, in this city, or in the entire world. I’ve somehow lost myself in him.

Callum and George are enthralled by their phones.

Liam and I are in the middle of our own conversation now. We are bickering about something important—what the best pizza toppings are.

Mine are banana peppers and honey.

His is pepperoni.

“You know that makes you boring, right? Only pepperoni.”

“It’s not boring. It’s called consistency. Always good, and everyone is bound to have a pepperoni pizza on their menu. Boring is better than being a weirdo that wants to have sticky fingers when they eat pizza.”

I would say Liam is like his choice in toppings, consistent, but he keeps surprising me.

“I’m not a neanderthal. I don’t get it on my hands.”

“No! Please tell me you aren’t the person who eats pizza with a fork and knife.” He’s barely two inches away from me—mouth wide, with a playful look of disgust.

“So what if I do?” I lean my head in closer.

From the proximity of our faces, I can see the gray speckles in his blue eyes. Far away, it’s easy to lose the gray in the blue, but right now, I can see the crystal the gray makes his eyes. It’s as if the Atlantic displaced some of its water in his eyes. They are a shade of blue I’ve never seen before that has me leaning in closer for a better look.

“I take it back. You aren’t my type then,” he says.

The right side of his mouth raises, a half smirk plastered on his face. His ocean eyes dip to my lips. I pull part of my lower lip in between my teeth. Liam inhales sharply.

Carefully closing the remaining distance between us, I lightly brush a kiss on his lips, pulling away before he has the opportunityto kiss me back. “That’s a shame, then.” I pull the entirety of my body away from him. “For a minute, I thought you were mine.”

23

EMERSON

Six Summers Ago

Callum and George bid us a goodnight, claiming they were tired and wanted to return to the hotel. Their fake yawns were theatrical at best.

It’s only Liam and me now. This is our first time alone since I woke up in his arms this morning.

“Are you tired too?” Liam asks me. “We can head back if you are.”

I’m exhausted,butI want this little bit of alone time together. It’s potentially the last I’ll get before we go our separate ways tomorrow, and I still have this itch to know more about Liam—all of him, really.

“No.” I yawn. “Would you care to take a walk, though? It’s nice out tonight.”

We’ve already finished our drinks as the place gets busier. The bar is body to body, and people are waiting in the wind to snag our table the minute we leave.

“Let’s go.”

His accent still throws me occasionally. I’m not enamored with it; okay, that’s a lie. I might be a teensy bit obsessed, but it’s when he uses words or phrases that I don’t know that it throws me. Or, like tonight, when he drinks, and it gets thicker and rougher, the sound of it is like morning stubble being brushed against my most sensitive skin.

I watch others around us, heading to dinner, drinks, or to get lost in the night. Everyone appears happy. We appear happy.

I am happy. I’m happy being here with Liam.

An emotion I’m slightly scared to admit to myself.

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