Page 56 of Summertime Friends

“If I haven’t told you already, I’m sorry.” Liam breaks the silence between us. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Liam hadn’t told me. I didn’t need him to say it to know he was thinking it. He’s looking at me the way he did earlier at the beach. I don’t think I was supposed to see him looking, but I caught the glances between conversations, behind his sunnies, and when I was walking along the shoreline. Each time a seed of feelings was planted in my stomach, I’d shake it away but then catch him watching me again, and that feeling would blossom again. By now, I probably have a whole garden in there.

Have you ever had someone look at you as if they can see right through you to exactly who you are at your core? I hadn’t till I met Liam. That’s how he looks at me.

With eyes on me, backlit by the moon and stars, I think that maybe I couldlovehim.

A cluster of laughs and recklessness barrels at us from the small convenience store to the right, startling me from that obscured thought. A group of six children, not paying attention to where they are running, and their trajectory unintentionally aims straight toward me.

They are going to ram right into me.

Liam reaches out, pulling me to him before they have a chance to trample me. He growls curses at them to watch where they are going, but they ignore him and run along. Liam doesn’t let go of my waist once we are away from them down the street. He shifts his hand to the lower dip of my back, guiding us back toward the hotel.

“I had a great time today,” I tell him.

“Me too.” Liam leans his head toward me and smiles. His smile takes up the entirety of his face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone smile so big or been this attracted to a smile before.

“You are a great friend to Callum and George. You know that?”

“They are great to me too. The two of them are the brothers I never had. Cal is the sensible one, as you can probably tell. And George, he’s the pesky younger brother, always buggin’ you and up to no good. I didn’t have many friends like them till I got to uni. We’ve been through a lot together, and honestly—I don’t think I would be here without them.” His hand rubs my back in small little circles. “Tell me more about your friends and family. You didn’t speak about them earlier.”

“I always wanted a sibling—a big family. But my parents never wanted another child; thinking back, I see that it was for the best. They divorced when I was in middle school. Nat, the friend with whom I was on this trip, is basically my sister.”

“I remember you mentioning that this morning.”

“We went to college together—we didn’t even apply to different schools—and we’re moving to Chicago together at the end of the summer. Looking back on my life, it’s always been the two of us.”

“I think friends can be family. Sometimes, the best family we have is the one we find.”

“I agree. She’s kind of like George.” We laugh at the comparison, even though he doesn’t know her. “They are almost the same person. I swear they’d be two peas in a bed if they ever met.”

“I owe a lot of myself to her. She’s stayed around. A lot of who I am and what I do is for her. Losing Nat would be a heartbreak I don’t think I’d ever overcome.” I go on to tell him more stories about the two of us from growing up.

“What about your parents?” I ask him, over talking about myself.

“My mom passed away three years ago from a long battle with cancer.”

“Liam, I’m so sorry.” I squeeze his hand, which I interlocked with mine.

“It’s weird when she passed, I was sad, still am, and don’t think I won’t ever be when I think about her, but I was relieved that she wasn’t in pain any longer. The last two years were utterly brutalfor her. She fought with everything in her, but it wasn’t enough. Knowing she is in heaven and has a healthy body again is the joy I find in the situation. I’ll see her again someday, I know.” He tugs a tight, worn smile. “My dad and I don’t speak much. He was angry that I didn’t return to football after being injured.”

“Is that what ended your career?” I ask him.

“No.” Liam shakes his head, his tone slightly cold. “I could have returned, but I didn’t want to. I loved the sport, but it became too much about my dad and getting to the professional level that I lost my love of it. As kids, coaches tell us to have fun, but I think people forget that at some point along the way. It wasn’t fun living with his pressure. I used the injury as my way out.”

“When did this happen?”

“I was starting my second year at university. At that point, several teams were bidding for me to join them.”

“I guess. . . I don’t get it. You were there. Practically, in the pros. Why not return?”

“Not my dream, States.” He sighs.

“What do you mean?”

“It was my dad’s dream for me to play professionally, not mine. I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I lied and used the injury. He demanded excellence growing up, pushing me constantly, and as a kid, I thought I had to do what he wanted. I let his dreams confiscate my own till university and when my mom passed.”

“What is your dream?”

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