Page 40 of We Can't Be Friends

“Where should we dance?” she asks me.

“It’s your birthday. You make the rules.”

My best friend drops her hand in front of me, palm up. There’s a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes. “Should we?”

She doesn’t need to tell me what she’s referring to, I already know. “We should.”

I take her hand, interlocking our fingers.

Everyone talks about their soul mate—yes, I know Emerson and Liam are meant to be, and I’m rooting for that. Team Limerson forever—but she’s my soulmate, too. She’s my person.

Emerson Clarke is the platonic love of my life.

The one that gets me.

I met her when I needed someone the most.

I don’t think I’ll ever find a love like she has with Liam, but I’m okay with that because I have her.

Natalie picks up on our intentions and clears off the table in the center of our roped-off section. She sits back in one of the chairs, brushing a blonde curl from her forehead.

“Do you want to join us?” Emerson asks her.

Natalie shakes her head no.

“Okay,” Emerson says, disappointed, but hides it behind a smile.

Whatever is going on with Natalie lately, it’s not cool. She’s been behaving differently. More pulled away, not as bubbly or center of attention seeking. Now I have to use both hands to count the times she hasn’t stepped in to help or check in on Emerson—or dance on a table, it’s her birthday, for fuck’s sake.

Natalie and Emerson have been friends since elementary school, but Natalie doesn’t treat her that way. I have one childhood friend, and I’d never treat her this way.

I like Natalie, but damn, does she piss me off.

I tug on Emerson’s hand. “After you.”

Emerson steps up on the table, pulling me up behind her. We can’t be more than a foot or two off the ground.

Together, we move to the rhythm as best as we can. Emerson cannot dance to save her life, but I’ve got a few hidden dance genes. I grew up with my parents dancing around the kitchen, swooping my brothers and me in with them.

Our hips sway right then left. I wrap an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into me. Her arms shoot up in the air as she plants her feet and dances down my body. She turns to face me, and we take turns shimmying toward each other, singing the lyrics and throwing our hair around.

Like the little devil she is sometimes, over her shoulder, she points at Liam and winks as the lyrics‘my heart stops when you look at me. Just one touch, now, baby I believe this is real’pour out of the speakers.

Thedateshe did bring is long gone.

I flip a quick peek over my shoulder at Callum. He’s glued to my every movement. I might not be wearing skin-tight jeans, but from how he’s staring, I bet I’m his teenage dream.

“Stop staring,” I mouth, and the left side of his mouth hooks up, his second dimple sneaking out to play.

“Everyone is staring at you,” he mouths back.“I’m succumbing to peer pressure.”

The song ends, my arms around Emerson, I kiss her temple. “Happy birthday, States,” I say into her ear, using Liam and Cal’s nickname for her.

“They’ve converted you,” she groans.

“Only casting my vote.”

Emerson rolls her eyes. “One more dance?”

---