Page 59 of Summertime Friends

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LIAM

Six Summers Ago

After arriving back in Lisbon from Lagos, the four of us parted ways to our respective hotels but with the promise that we would see each other later.

Emerson claimed she needed a nap after not sleeping much the night before. I couldn’t help the pang of guilt that sat with me. Did she not sleep because of me? I can’t say that I got much, either. The entire evening played back in my head.

After a cold shower, my hand, and the taste of her lips, the regret of walking away left me lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. It crossed my mind to go back downstairs.

Tell her I’m sorry I left her standing in the hallway.

Tell her why I walked away—even though she’d roll her eyes at the reason.

It wasn’t the alcohol consumption last night that influenced my decision. It wasn’t how she pretended to trip to force my hold on her to tighten or the taunt about getting George. It was the fact that in less than forty-eight hours, we would never see each other again.

That’s why it would never be just a kiss—or one night together.

It’s ironic how the time we have left is the same amount of time that it took for her to become someone to me. Someone that one night with wouldn’t be enough.A whole lifetime with her wouldn’t be enough.

Two days later, I want her as much as I did that night.

And that’s the problem. Forty-eight hours became days, and now I’m debating going to Paris with her.

Except that Emerson didn’t mention anything the morning after the kiss. She acted like nothing happened between us.

Today hasn’t been much different.

“States is effing cool, mate.” George draws my attention to him.

Emerson is sorting through painted tile coasters for her apartment in Chicago.

We visited Miradouro da Senhora do Monte, taking the trolley up to it earlier before walking through a market, hopping between food and souvenir stands. The guys and I have been tracking all over the city with her, making sure to cross everything off her Lisbon list.

“I know.”

“Had an interesting chat this morning.”

“Yeah? While I was running?” I raise an eyebrow toward him.

“Yeah. I might have asked her about you...”

“What do you mean about me?” My pulse picks up.

“Last night at dinner, the two of you had this weird tension-infested force field surrounding you.”

“Force field. . . ?” George waves off my comment.

“That’s not the point. I asked States about it this morning. When she met Cal and me in the hotel lobby for breakfast, I could sense she was nervous about being around us—turns out you, today.”

“What did she say about me?”

“If you’d shut up, you’d find out.”

I go to speak but close my mouth.

“She said you snogged her in Lagos, which we knew. She also said you left her standing there in the hallway when she went to invite you in, which we didn’t know. States went on to ask about your past. Curious about how you are with other women and one-night stands.”

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