Page 126 of We Can't Be Friends

“What did I give you?”

A beautiful blonde walks in. Audrey.

“Cal. Dad is wondering when you. . . Oh, hi, Chloe. I didn’t realize you two were chatting.”

“Chloe was just opening the presents I left at the flat for her.”

“Oh really? What did he get you?” Audrey plops down next to Cal. Their sibling relationship is casual. I’m almost jealous of this version of Cal she gets.

They are strikingly similar. If it weren’t for already knowing he is two years her elder, I would bet Tucker’s life that they were twins. Same sandy hair. Same dimple in their right cheek. Same high cheekbones. Same ears.

But their eyes couldn’t be more different. Audrey’s are a deep hazel compared to his glacial blue. I wonder if his brothers have his or her eyes?

“A book,” I tell Audrey.

Audrey playfully swats at Cal. “Are you serious? A book. Idiot.” She takes the phone out of his hand. “Let me apologize for this asshat. He shouldn’t have gotten you a book. A bag or shoes—Cal, you should have gotten her shoes!” She swats at him again. “You are rich, quite rich, and you buy her a book. No wonder she didn’t want to live with you.”

“I like the book,” I chime in quietly, loving my front-row seat to their siblings’ antics.

It reminds me of how mine used to be.

How fun Christmas used to be.

“Did you hear that, Auds? Oh wait, you can’t because you're too busy listening to yourself talk.”

“I’m making him bring you home a pair of shoes. Please send me your size—never mind, States will know it. We are going shoppingtomorrow with Beatrix.” She slides off the bed. “Mum and Dad want to leave in the next twenty minutes.” Audrey exits, her long blond hair swaying across her back. The strawberry blonde gone.

His mom questioned me about not coming to London for Christmas. Cal bailed us out, telling her my work schedule wouldn’t allow it.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

“I should run, but I hope you have a great Christmas. Give Miller and Riley a hug for me. There are gifts for them in my closet.”

I take a deep inhale. “Cal, you didn’t need to do that.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I don’t fight him on it. “Merry Christmas, Pretty Boy.”

“Happy Christmas, Dais.”

37

CALLUM

“Surprise!” George shouts, turning from the fridge with a six-pack of beer.

“This isn’t a surprise,” Liam debates George.

“No?” His voice goes high-pitched.

“You knew Cal and you were coming over for Boxing Day Premier League. We’ve done this for years.”

George tosses his hands in the air, beer resting on the counter. “I didn’t know there would be gifts. A surprise baby shower for me.”

“George, you asked for this,” I chime in.

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