Page 39 of We Can't Be Friends

“As if you belong hanging on the ceiling.” I point to the large, round, reflective ball swinging from a chain on the ceiling. What are those called?

“Are you talking about a disco ball?” Liam interjects.

“Yeah, that.” I tilt my chin down at Chloe. “Yeah, my apologies. You look like a disco ball. Dazzling.”

“No wonders you don’t have a girlfriend. You're lucky, I’m going to take that as a compliment.” She crosses her arms over her chest. Giving me a once-over. “Hmm.”

“Yes?”

“Silver wasn’t your color?” Right, because she wears it so well. “This definitely isn’t.” Chloe drops an arm, fingers rubbing the hem of my orange shirt. “Stick to Earth tones.”

“Didn’t know the fashion police was invited,” Liam says.

“Watch it, Hayes. I was starting to like you.” Her head turns slowly to glare at Liam.

“You love me.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder, and I don’t like it. Why is he touching her?

“I don’t, actually.”

I remove his arm from her.

Chloe gestures to the space, letting us know what is reserved for the night.

Liam and I sit on the couch. Chloe finds a spot in the chair beside Natalie, who still hasn’t picked her head up from her phone.

Blake and Ben arrive shortly after we do.

Small world, but Ben, who works for Hayes Hotels, is engaged to Blake, who works with Emerson. Just to make it a bit smaller, Emerson is also their wedding photographer.

Whenever I think about how big the Earth is and how many people live on it, it blows my mind how small in reality it is. How minuscule we are compared to the universe, respectively.

“Where is the birthday girl?” Blake asks. “I thought you three went to dinner before this?”

“Oh. . . um. . .” Chloe glances at Natalie for backup.

Natalie sits up straighter, crossing one skinny leg over the other. “She went to get someone.”

Liam tenses next to me.

Blake is biting her lip.

My head snaps to Chloe’s. I toss my hands out in awhat the heckmotion.

She looks past me to Liam and opens her mouth to speak. Before any excuse can roll off her tongue, I speak up. “Next time, warn a mate.”

CHLOE

“I love this song,” the birthday girl shouts. “You make me feel like I’m living the teenage dream.” Her eyes sparkle as the beat changes; the DJ mixes the Katy Perry bop with “Sugar, We’re Goin Down,” a favorite of mine.

“You two should go dance,” Blake, Emerson’s coworker, shouts between her cupped hands. Shoulders bouncing and swaying to the beat. Her fiancé’s upper body dances beside her on the couch.

“Do you want to dance, Emme?”

“Is water wet?” Her smile makes me smile.

Emerson stands up, adjusting her dress after flashing me her tan cheeks. “Oops,” she giggles. Liam’s eyes follow her as if they were a spotlight, body lunging forward as she stumbles over herself.

I grasp her waist, steadying her.

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