Page 72 of Summertime Friends

I don’t move. I stand there watching Liam walk away.

Is this really it? Is this all we’ll ever be? Two strangers thrown together to be summertime friends, only to leave as strangers again.

He peers over his shoulder in my direction one last time. An exchange of smiles, the same smiles from the first time I saw him, are gifted to each other.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He winks and looks away.

I do, committing it to memory and tucking it away alongsidethe best summer of my life.

Time to go home.

***

“Emme! Oh my gosh!” There is a screech as I exit the airport. Natalie is standing there jumping up and down. I’m halfway to her when she sprints the remaining distance to me.

“I missed you!” Natalie throws her arms around me tightly.

“I missed you too. How was your grandma’s funeral?” She loosenes her death hug enough that I can hug her back.

“Mom is dramatic.” She rolls her eyes. “As soon as I got home, my dad told me I didn’t need to leave you.”

“I still agree with your mom that you needed to come home. You’ll be glad later.”

“Yeah, whatever. What I’ll regret later is not seeing more of Europe with you.” Nat boops my nose. She takes my bag from me and points toward where she is parked. “Tell me all the details! Dirty ones included.” She looks over her shoulder at me, and her eyebrows dance.

“Dirty details?” I choke. Natalie knows the details of the trip. . . in detail. She texted me daily for photos and updates, and I shared enough to make it feel like she was right there with me. However, Liam may not have made it into any of the details.

My cheeks grow hot, probably red, thinking about him.

“Emme, please tell me you werenotboring the entire time. Your head in books, walking around to take in the ‘views’, people watching, silly photos of strangers and random architecture.” She’s shaking her head like she’s disappointed in me. “I should have stayed. I knew you wouldn’t enjoy yourself.”

Liam’s observation from this morning has me viewing her and what she said through a different lens.

“Are you serious? That’s mean and not true.”

“I’m just saying, I know you.” She’s shrugging off the entire comment as if she didn’t slap me across the face with her words.

“Actually, I had a great time. Best summer of my life.”

She tosses me a look. One I can’t quite decipher. She doesn’t ask or say anything else about the trip. Sitting in the passenger seat, Natalie drives and tells me about everything she purchased for our Chicago apartment.

I don’t listen to anything she says, annoyed with her.

Instead, I unlock my phone and flip through pictures from the trip, lingering a moment too long on the ones of Liam and me. Wedidn’t take many, three or four if you include the one George took in Lagos, which is my favorite of us. However, my favorite picture of the trip is one of him.

We were in Amsterdam, our last stop. Liam admitted he had some work that he needed to attend to. I suggested we go to a café—I could read while he worked for an hour or two. We ended up spending five hours there, both reading after his work was complete. He’d never exuded such casualness in a white t-shirt, which was probably still more expensive than my entire outfit, but whatever. His hair was shaggier than when I first met him, the ends curling, and he hadn’t shaved in a few days. I liked him with scruff.

I went to the bathroom. Walking back to the table, my eyes find him. Liam doesn’t see me. He’s ravishingly handsome. Pen sticking out of his mouth, head down with a couple of strands of hair falling in his face, such attentive focus I’ve come to enjoy, reading my book. I snapped a picture of him on my phone.

I sat down at the table. Liam closed my book and returned it to me.

On the plane, I pulled it out to read. Liam highlighted sections, wrote sweet nothings in the footer, and his review on the back page.

Looking at the photo now, knowing what he did, makes me love it even more.

A notification comes across the top of my screen.

A text message from Liam?

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