Page 9 of We Can't Be Friends

“You wouldn’t be. That’s why she’s on the right of the spectrum.”

I sigh.

“Oh, come on. I’m not there, so it’s not fair.” George’s phone dings.

“Sent you her social media,” Liam tells him.

He’s seen her social media? Why didn’t even think to search for her afterI left Emerson’s?

Maybe because you aren’t the social media type.My Instagram has a total of three posts, all circa almost a decade ago.

George laughs. “She’s got stripper tits. No wonder he was drooling over her.”

“I was not.” I sound like a child.

“Cally, remember that time in school.” These stories never end well. The three of us were fuck boys, the easiest way to put it. George finishes by recounting a story of a weekend when I discovered whiskey, drank copious amounts, and then drew a picture of my dream girl—a stick figure with circles for boobs. They were disproportionate to her impractical figure—I’m not one with the arts—and they thought it was the funniest thing ever. Making fun of me, saying I’d end up married to a girl with stripper tits. “Liam, would she fit the criteria?”

“Don’t look at me!” he gripes. “I’m not commenting on Emerson’s friends.”

George and I both scoff at the same time.

“Uh, mate. Natalie?” George asks.

“That’sdifferent.”

“It’s not,” George says, creating tension in the room that even the best butcher in London couldn’t cut through. “Better be happy that Bea is in the bathroom because she is ready to ring your neck.”

“Piss off,” Liam says to George.

George cracks a joke and when he laughs I realize how much I miss him. I miss the three of us together. His phone tumbles out of his hand, landing on his dark chest.

“Are you shirtless?” Liam asks George.

“When is he not?” I ask Liam.

“It’s eleven on a Friday withmywife. Of course, we are shirtless. Plus,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“What are you so cheeky about?” I ask.

Beatrix comes running out of the bathroom. He taps the screen to switch the camera around to show us her. “You did not just tell them. I’m barely five weeks.”

“Killer babe, youjusttold them.”

Her jaw drops. Beatrix clutches the towel around her tighter, a sparkle shines off her enormous ring. “Wait, you didn’t. . .you hadn’t. . .fuck.”

I look over at Liam. We stare at each other momentarily, trying to understand what is happening.

Five weeks.

Beatrix does have this glow to her.

Tell us something.

I mouth to LiamBeatrix is pregnant.Liam stares at me with amazement, a smile inching up the right side of his face.

We both turn our attention back to the video.

“Tell us what?” Liam plays dumb.

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