Page 134 of We Can't Be Friends

I’m lighter and vibrant, I can sense it. The girl behind the dark clothes and RBF is the one they see and accept.

Laughter and bickering from the kitchen flutters to Emerson and me on the couch as the guys debate their Premier League teams and next marathon.

He’s lighter, too. A highlighter blue hue to his eyes, a smile that relaxes his jaw and shoulders. This smile is slowly becoming my favorite of his. Usually he only wears it when it’s just the two of us, but I’m happy—proud even—that he’s sharing it with more than me—Okay, maybe slightly envious, too. It’s raw and genuine.

It’s blue. Tranquil. Trusting.

Emerson stretches her foot out, jabbing her toes into the side of my thigh. Turning from Callum, I find Emerson giving me a smug smile, tongue running along the inside of her bottom lip.

What?I mouth, wiping away any emotion from my face.

“You are so charmed,” she laughs quietly. “The British boy spell has officially entrapped you.”

“It’s your fault.”

“My fault?” She points to herself. I tilt my head. “Okay, maybe. But it’s not that bad of a problem, is it?”

I sigh, relenting the truth to her and myself, “No, it’s not.”

The guys bring us our ice cream and return to the kitchen. We eat silently, partly because ice cream is one of Emerson’s weaknesses. She can’t speak around shoveling the decadence into her mouth.

We place our bowls on the coffee table, and she inches her way next to me. I rest my head on her shoulder.

I don’t care about age, there’s something about your best friend that makes everything better. Having a person who chooses to stand in the rain with you when they have the option to stay dry. Someone who replenishes and inspires you but knows how to hold you accountable.

I’ve never needed a lot of friends, just the right one. Sometimes I like to believe that Emerson and I would find each other in every universe.

“I missed you.” Emerson speaks the three words I didn’t know I needed to hear from her. A Band-aid to my bleeding abandoned heart. Missing Emerson, missing people is my version of homesickness.

Her words are a warm blanket being wrapped around my shoulders. “I missed you, too. How long are you two here for?”

“A week, maybe two. Liam needs to go to Florida for work, and I have a shoot here on Thursday. . .” Her words trail off and knowing Emerson Clarke, she’s hiding something. She’s leaving out the real purpose of their return.

There’s only one reason she’s hiding it: she doesn’t want to upset me. Emerson has always been a people pleaser, and I don’t think that she won’t ever be one. Her heart is too big, but Liam has helped dial her tendencies back.

“What else are you not telling me?”

I can feel her slowly swallow. Pulling her head up from mine, she moves to face me.

“Emme.”

“I’m moving to London.”

“Moving?”

“Moving,” she repeats with a nod, demeanor going soft as if she knows this is breaking my heart. I try to wipe away any facial expression but know I’m failing miserably. “Liam and I decided that we want to be there.”

“But couldn’t he work here? Your life is here.”

“And his life is there.”

“I—I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’ve already been gone for two months, Chlo.” She brushes a strand of my deep mocha hair behind my ear.

“But this. . . this is. . . forever. You are leaving Chicago forever.” Leaving me.

“No one said this is forever.” Emerson puts her arm around me, dragging my slumped body into hers. “I’d never leave you forever, Chloe. You know that?”

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