Page 80 of Summertime Friends

“Auds, probably good you’re here.” They all flash confused glances at me.

“Me?” She points to herself. I nod.

We order drinks. Enjoy said drinks. Order another round and food before any of them decide to speak.

“Spill,” George speaks bluntly, setting down his pint glass. A bit of the amber ale sloshes over the side. “Why’d you want to get lunch?”

“Do I need a reason to get lunch with my best mates and Audrey?”

No, I don’t need a reason to see them. Frankly, we usually spend Saturdays together, anyway. They don’t need a reason to see me, but today, I called them because I need them. I really need them. Need them to set me straight about Emerson.

Is it supposed to be this hard to know if you are truly in love with someone? If you should tell them?

It’s the fork in the road you ignore, knowing it’s there but ignoring it until you are forced to choose: left or right, A or B, this or that. There’s no sign, no telling you what you’ll find at the end of the road, just a force pushing you to choose one. You have to choose one.

I’m at my fork in the road with Emerson.

“You don’t, but you called us.” Cal gestures to the group. He and George look back and forth between each other and me.

“And you bailed on us last night,” George adds. “Which you never do unless it’s for her.”

“I told you I was tired. It was a long day at the office.”

“But not tired enough for her,” George says, asks—can’t tell.

“D’you forget I work with you? I can see your calendar,” Callum says at the same time his sister speaks.

“Are you tired from work or her?”

Both.

“I also own the company. I deal with shit you don’t know about.”

“Like what. . .” He tosses me a look that says, ‘prove it.’ He’s my number two, he knows everything. There isn’t anything I keep from him because there isn’t a reason to. He’ll find out one way or another, so might as well skip the bullshit and tell him first.

“I was tired. Does it matter if I want to talk to her?”

“No, she’s your best friend,” Audrey declares.

“I thought I was your best friend,” George scoffs, leaning back in his chair and rocking on the backs of two legs.

“You are, but she’s Emerson. It’s different.”

“Oi! That’s £100, mate.” George rocks the chair forward, pushing Callum in the shoulder from across the table.

Callum pulls out his wallet, throwing bills in George’s way. Sitting directly in front of me, Audrey is smirking at the two of them. “Idiots,” she grumbles.

Audrey turns her attention to me.

“Did you talk to her. . . ?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I finish my drink. “She got stood up on a date. States called to debrief.”

“Huh. First person?” Cal asks weirdly.

“I’spose. Maybe? She didn’t clarify the order in which she told her friends she was stood up, but I did assume it was only a few minutes after they were set to meet.”

“She wanted a chat with you?” I’ve known Audrey a month less than I’ve known Callum. She came to visit him at school after our first term kicked off. She’s. . . expressive. . . doesn’t know how to hide any emotions or thoughts from being all over her face to a fault.

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