Page 77 of Summertime Friends

“You aren’t helping. Liam. Guess.” Damn, she’s cross tonight.

“He didn’t like the restaurant that you picked out?”

“Noooope. He canceled because I didn’t. . .” There’s a pause before she answers. I can’t tell if she’s embarrassed or hurt by the reason. “Put out after our second date,” she whispers closely to the phone. “A second date? Come on, everyone knows that you have togive it at least three dates, which is tonight! Ridiculous! He literally couldn’t even wait four more hours to get lucky.”

“Oi, you see, I thought you had to go to two countries and agree to spend the next four weeks with the girl to get lucky.”

“Ha. Ha. You’re so funny.” Her mouth purses together, and she glares at me through the phone. She’s genuinely upset, I conclude.

“I’m sorry that happened, States. You seemed excited about the potential with this one, yeah?” Immediately, I knew it was the wrong word choice. One? More like ten? She’s beendatinglately, or at least trying to. Emphasis on the trying. It’s not going well, as you can imagine, based on her frantic video chat.

“Yeah, this one.” She rolls her eyes and sigh-laughs.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” That warrants a laugh.

“You’re right, though. Did you take a screenshot!?”

“Documenting the moment. Liam Hayes was right,” I say.

Emerson shakes her head at me and rolls her eyes again.

“As I was trying to say, this one, just as I think that with every other one?” A look of despair washes over her face. “What am I supposed to do to have this excitement reciprocated?” She shakes her head. “How do I get a guy to see potential in me?”

Something in my gut stirs—and it isn’t the sushi. I want to scream, sound alarms, or teleport through this phone to let her know I see potential with her. Always have since we met. The level of chemistry between us and the ease with which we function is rare. There’s limitless potential with Emerson. This guy, hell, any guy, must be a twat not to see it.

I guess I’m also a twat then because I do see it and haven’t done anything about it.

“We aren’t doing this again.”

“Then tell me how to make it stop!” Emerson demands.

“Want to know how to stop? Easy. Stop choosing dimwits on those dating apps.” I’ve asked her before if I can log into her apps. She always tells me what a terrible idea that is and that she can’ttrust me with her password. That’s probably true; I’d delete her profile.

“Aren’t you on dating apps?” She asks.

“Yeah. And? I’m me.”

“Oh, right. I’m Liam. I’m perfect. All it takes is one flash of my perfect smile and a wink of my perfect eyes, and she’s in my bed and then down the aisle. Hmm, I forgot,” she says sarcastically.

“Exactly,” I joke.

“Don’t let it go to your head, pretty boy. It can’t get much bigger.” Emerson winks at me.

“Did you want to sleep with him?” I ask her, circling back to an earlier statement that’s taken up residence in my mind. Hecouldn’t wait four more hours to get lucky.

Sex doesn’t come up between us often. If it does, I’m usually with George when she calls. I don’t know why she doesn’t bring it up. I don’t talk about it because thinking about her having sex with anyone else makes me jealous.

I don’t enjoy thinking about her with anyone else ever. I only want to think about her with me.

“Easy or honest answer?” That’s her thing with me. She gives me the easy answer first—the one she’d give anyone else—and then the truthful answer that’s reserved for me.

“Always.”

“Easy: yes. Honest: with him, I don’t think so.” She shrugs it off. However, her body language and the pink hue on her cheeks make me believe she’s only horny. She wouldn’t say yes unless she were. “There, for whatever reason, wasn’t a. . . spark. Trevor was nice. We kissed on our previous date. It was just blah.”

I break out in a bit of laughter. “Emerson.”

“Liam.”

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