by Piper Rayne
2
Colton lets out a jagged breath, half trying not to laugh and the other half of the sound distracted—off in another world.
“You can say that again,” I try.
He smiles, but there’s something else inside it. Something I don’t have the words to explain, let alone understand. Honestly, it’s probably questions about why I ever dated that douche-canoe. The reasons are starting to fade from my memory as Colton walks over to the couch. His short brown hair catches the light when he crosses under the sparkling chandelier he helped me install last year—though he did not help me attach all two-hundred crystal things. And his green eyes—emerald, not light at all, but rich like gems—stay connected with mine as he plops down.
Maybe he’s wondering if I’m pissed at him for his part in all of that.
Of course, I’m not, though.
Sitting, we could almost be the same height. But apparently, he’s a freak of nature with impossibly long legs and arms, because he’s almost a foot taller than me. And I am short, but not that short.
And Colton’s leaner than lean. Swimmer’s body. The jackass. Even though he sneaks all my hidden cookies. I know he still does it, just like when we were back in college and he’d find every snack I had hidden in my dorm room. So he eats worse than I do, is just as lazy, and “looks like a Greek god”—in the words of half my girlfriends.
So rude.
“Emma, I’m so sorry,” Colton starts, grabbing my hand and wrapping his free one around my shoulder.
“Don’t be,” I say, honestly meaning it. Though, him using my full name make me sit back a little. I couldn’t guess the last time he did that. He must really mean it. The pained sound earlier makes more sense now.
“Do you want me to go catch up to him? I can get him back here. I’ll get on my hands and knees begging, if it’s for you,” he adds.
“Fuck that idiot,” I say, rubbing my temple on his shoulder.
“He’s not really my taste. But if it meant you got what you wanted, I’d stoop,” the shithead says.
Even though I don’t want to laugh, I can’t stop a few bubbles of giggles from breaking free from my lips. They just won’t stay pursed tight enough to prevent it.
He’s a funny shithead at least.
“I’ll save you the humiliation. This time,” I reply. Then I shove him over with my own shoulder so I can turn and face him. After situating with my legs are tucked beneath me, I sigh. “Really, there’s nothing to apologize for. All you did was speed up the conversation. You didn’t change what was about to happen. Actually, you probably saved me an hour of painful diversions and self-aggrandizing justifications,” I add after thinking about it from a surprisingly healthy angle.
“So what you’re saying is that you should be thanking me,” Colton tries, with a wink.
I don’t hesitate; I lean forward and hug him.
It’s the tight kind of hug that would be too long with anyone else. But with your best friend who knows more about you than any human should be allowed, it’s never long enough.
“You okay, Ev?” he asks me after I finally let go of him. And hearing my nickname finally unwinds the very last knot that was lingering in my stomach.
I nod. “I’m already over it.” And even if I shouldn’t be yet, I think I am. Mostly anyway.
I should analyze what that means. Something about boundaries and fear of commitment and being honest with myself. But whatever, I’m not breaking anything that isn’t fixed.
Wait…
Whatever.
“You sure?” Colton tries again, his warm fingers finding the rolled-up cuff of my ripped jeans—the ones Dan despised and the ones I’m exceptionally glad I didn’t change out of when he was on his way over.
“He was a lousy lay anyway,” I say.
This time it’s Colton’s turn to laugh in surprise.
“I thought you said it was good,” he argues through swallowed breaths and near-hiccups.
“I believe the word I used was ‘decent,’” I say as Colton cringes at the description. “Which really is not a compliment anyway. You should know that. But, also, I exaggerated even with that.”
“Good riddance.” Colton waves a hand at my door, like he’s shooing the negativity away.
I look over there for a second, like maybe I can see through the painted white wood, or see things no human eye can– like negative vibes listening to Colton’s commands.
If only.
“We need to get ready for dinner.” I change the subject while picking at the fraying strands of denim at my knee.
“Do you still want to go, though?” Colton asks it, but he already knows my answer as he shifts his hands to both of his knees and braces to stand.
“Of course,” I scoff with a roll of my eyes.
“I guess you’ll make for good conversation anyway. We can play a drinking game—everyone takes a shot for each dumb comment Dan made while you two were together,” he says as he pulls me up from the couch.
“We’d all have alcohol poisoning before I got to the third date,” I say, trying so hard not to laugh. Trying and failing.
“Why the fuck did you date him again?” Colton asks as I turn toward the hallway.
“Help me pick out an outfit,” I say.
He looks like he’s about to debate, but then thinks better of it, knowing I’ll just take longer for me to get dressed if he argues.
3
“Sorry. Sorry,” I say, completely out of breath, as I rush up to the mostly full table.
Avoiding looking at the windows—because I just know I look ridiculous after those couple blocks I speed-walked as the stupid wind took out its frustration on my hair—I hug almost everyone already seated around the big high-top.
Charli gets a hug almost as tight and long as Colton’s, but not quite. Though, Ray gets more of a side to side nudge than anything I’d consider a hug. And I just leave the pretty new face out as I go around.
“How the hell did you take so long? You were already dressed when I left your place,” Colton says. My ass lands on my chair harder than I mean it to, and he kisses my cheek.
“You don’t want to know,” I say. “Where are Claire and Tom?” I ask, eyeing the three empty chairs left. One was for Dan, and I give it a little shove with my foot while waiting for an answer.
“You first,” Colton demands.
Looking to him, then past him, I finally get the chance to really look at his date. She’s a basic nightmare, at least five years younger than all of us here. Maybe pushing seven, or more. She looks way too cool to be here too—with her eyeliner and edgy clothes, razored hair and what I think is a very expensive designer purse sitting on the floor next to her. And the look she gives Colton, the one he completely misses while waiting for my answer, is fierce.
“Hi, I’m Emily,” she says, reaching her arm across Colton to shake with me.
“Emma,” I say to her, even though I’ve already forgotten what she said. Not that it matters. I doubt I’ll see her again after tonight. And that’s not me being a bitch. I swear. I can just tell. I have years of practice.
Besides, the odds are in my favor. Colton doesn’t keep many past a date or two. But the ones who do stick around tend to feel a little different.
“Still waiting,” Colton says with a smile, pretending to tap the watch he doesn’t wear as he looks at me.
“Oh, right. Well, Dan called. I felt like I had to answer, and then he just kept droning on and on. And I worried if I hung up, he’d just call back and badger me to listen until I gave in again. He said since he ‘felt like he didn’t get to speak his piece,’ he needed to get it off his chest before he could feel good about today. And you know how he loves his clean slates, for optimal beauty sleep,” I say. It doesn’t make it out in all one breath, but damn close.
That’s how I get when I’m with these people, my people. There’s never enough time to tell them everything, or to be with them. Even if we’re barely talking—not that
that happens very often—the nights feel too short.
Colton gets damn close to popping his eyes out of his head, he rolls them so hard at my explanation. I know it’s not at me, but at what I said, and I just nod. Because, he’s right. It’s so obnoxious.
Though, speaking of…
“Did anyone order drinks yet?” I ask.
“I got you,” Colton says.
“That’s why I love you,” I answer, making sure not to look at his date’s reaction. Half of them hate me from the get-go. Though, really, that’s probably better than the girlfriends who try to buddy up to me, without even trying to get to know me first.
“Wait, though. What did happen with Dan?” Charli asks. “I’m behind.”
Shit, that’s right. I texted her that men suck after Colton left, but then Dan called before I could say anything other than that I’d tell her here.
“We split,” I say to her, knowing that we’ll get into the nitty gritty tomorrow anyway, so there’s no reason to tank my mood before the tequila touches my lips. “So, Hawaii!” I say, my enthusiasm finally returning for the first time since this morning.
“Wait, though. Are you okay?” Charli asks with wide, concerned eyes. She has wrinkles in her forehead from the emotion that’s in her question.
“Charli, you really should respect your friend’s wishes if she doesn’t want to talk about it,” Ray says, interrupting us both.
I should stop myself before narrowing my eyes at her boyfriend, but fuck it. Charli is probably the kindest person I know.
“I swear I’m fine, babe,” I say to her, ignoring Ray. Though, I do look at him after I say it with pursed lips. I feel my nostrils flare too before I look away.
“Sorry,” Charli mumbles, still looking down.
“Don’t be,” I say, adding a smile for her.
Then Colton pipes up, and I feel the tension leaving my shoulders as soon as he sucks in a breath to speak.
“But, for real, this is why she never dates friends. Ever since that disastrous break up with her best friend in high school, when she had to shop at the grocery store two towns over until she moved away. She learned her lesson,” Colton says, looking at Ray, then Charli, and finally at me.
Charli finally smiles a little, nodding.
I let out an exaggerated groan at his explanation—I’ve heard the story a thousand times before. Plus, you know, I lived it. But he loves to bring it up. And, he’s not wrong.
“This way I can erase Dan from my life sooooo much easier. I already deleted his phone number. Done and done.” I rub my hands together, getting rid of him altogether.
“To asshole exes,” Colton says with enthusiasm, raising his water glass since we’re still waiting for our drinks. “And the poor idiots who date them next,” he adds.
I grab my own water at the same time as everyone else at the table. We all clink glasses together, cheering and laughing. Because it was perfect. Though, if I looked around, I’m sure I’d see some side-eye glances from other tables, but there’s no reason to check.
They’re just jealous.
“Not everyone is an asshole just because it doesn’t work out,” Colton’s date mumbles right as we all quiet down.
Without hesitation my eyes find Colton’s, and I have to press my lips against each other to stop myself from laughing at her. Or him, I’m not sure which. It’s not that she’s wrong. She’s just young, and doesn’t know this group of friends at all. But despite my efforts, the corners of my mouth twitch anyway, ticking up a little, as my eyes widen at him.
He just shrugs, but the smile spreads across his face, going all the way up to his eyes.
Yeah, she’d better not last long. I want to hate her already.
“Hi, hi, hi,” Claire says as she and Tom rush up to our table—finally—just as the server brings our drinks on a full tray.
If we didn’t tip so well when we come, this restaurant would probably hate us. With our regular dinners, and loud nights with lots of booze, I wouldn’t blame them. The place is swanky; it’s not meant to be anyone’s regular spot. The tables are glossy, the wallpaper a chic matte, and the lights are way dimmed. It’s fancy fancy. Plus, the prices are ridiculous. But it tastes so damn good. And they make the very best margaritas in a huge mile radius. We don’t go anywhere else. Once we found The Pink Door, it was the end of any other options for the whole group.
“Sorry, we’re late,” Tom says with his arm still around Claire’s waist. He doesn’t let go until they’re both sitting in their chairs, even when everyone comes over to hug her– not skipping what’s-her-name like I did. She’s a better person, for sure. And then Tom’s hand goes over to her lap once they’re settled in.
Too damn cute for words. They always have been.
Did you forget where the place was?” Charli asks Claire with a smirk.
Almost everyone bites back smiles after Charli asks too.
“Does it really matter?” Ray asks Charli. He leans over as he says it, but his voice isn’t low enough for my liking.
Her shoulders go up in response after being chastised by her boyfriend—in front of everyone—for the second time already tonight.
“Yeah, I’d like to know too, ya losers. Maybe we need to get you moved into a memory care home,” I say with my eyes on Claire, but the rest of my head pointed right at Ray.
“We were ready, and even going to be here early for once,” Tom says as he looks over to Claire, smiling like she’s the only one around.
“But this horn dog seduced me, and we had a quickie,” Claire finishes for him, diffusing any lingering awkwardness. She and Colton both do that well. Because you’d better believe Ray had some sort of argument brewing.
“Boooooo. Gross,” I shout at them, throwing my napkin their way.
“So, let’s talk Hawaii,” Charli says after I settle down, setting her hands up on the table to play with the sweat beading on her margarita glass.
“That’s the only reason I kept it to a quick one,” Claire adds. And everyone laughs as Colton raises his glass to toast again. I know he hears me groan too, as his eyes flick over to me, but he ignores it anyway.
“Well, I’m sure as hell still going,” I say.
4
“You sure you don’t want to come over for some coffee or something?” what’s-her-name says to Colton in the breathy baby voice that half of his dates use.
Barf.
Because when does coffee ever just mean coffee? Bur for real. It never does. Don’t even try to argue with me.
“It’s late. But I’ll call you,” Colton lies to her face.
I mean, it is late—we practically shut the restaurant down. But it’s probably not that late for her, since she’s barely out of her teen years.
I repeat: Barf.
“Okay…” she says, hesitant and whining, but not arguing. And it’s all Colton needs. He closes the door of the cab and slaps the roof. She’s off down Minnehaha Avenue so fast, I wonder how big of a tip he gave the driver.
“Shall we?” Colton asks as he turns to me, giving me his elbow so I can link our arms as we walk toward our building.
“Why did you give her hope?” I ask him as we head down the cracked sidewalk. “Not that I care,” I add as he starts shaking his head at me. “I’m just curious.”
“Why lock doors even if they’re closed ones,” he says. And I give him such a flat look, he laughs as he continues. “You never know who might be the last people left on earth after the zombies take over,” Colton finishes in a complete non-answer. He bumps into me on purpose, so I shove him with my hip as we keep going past a couple bars still open and other hipster folks heading home in North East Minneapolis. Even on a Wednesday night, it’s not an empty walk.
“You’re impossible,” I tell him.
“You’re right,” Colton answers.
“I’m not canceling my trip just because of that jackass,” I say without transition. Not that I bother with transitions much when it comes to Colton. �
��And don’t you look at me like that,” I point my free finger in his direction, shaking it like I’m eighty-years-old and his grandma. “It’s not because I’m stubborn. I mean, we both know I am. And maybe that’s a little bit of the why. But I deserve this vacation,” I say.
“You do,” Colton adds during my breath between rants.
“I’ve worked really hard lately. And that’s not even mentioning how well I handled today.”
“You did,” he says.
“I’ve earned a break. And I paid for the whole damn thing anyway. So, I’m going,” I finish with a stamp of my right foot to accentuate my point, ready for an argument.
“Good. You should,” Colton agrees.
And I finally take in what he’s been saying. He hasn’t been disagreeing like I’d expected.
Now I don’t even know why I anticipated that.
“You’re right. You are stubborn. But you also deserve that week on the beach with no worries to weigh you down. There’s only one thing…”
“What’s that?” I ask as we turn the corner and the moon peeks out from a cloud.
“If you even think for one second about moving there, I rescind my previous statement. And I’ll come there and drag your ass home.” Colton’s smile is pulled to one side, the opposite side from where I am. But I see it anyway.
I think that’s my favorite smile of his. The crooked one. The one that means so much more than a simple smile.
“Why wouldn’t you just move there too if I did?” I ask, smacking him on the bicep. I should know better, because even though he’s lean, the muscles there are still hard as rocks.
“Oh. Well, okay. Good point,” he concedes, as I shake out my hand.
We walk in silence for a minute.
It’s not that weird kind of quiet where you’re trying to think of something, any-freaking-thing, to fill up the space between words. It’s the comfortable kind where you forget that no one’s talking.
“But, ugh. At dinner tonight—even though I’m going no matter what—it just showed me how couple-y it’s going to be. And don’t pretend like it won’t, because I know that’s why you didn’t sign up this time. With Charli and Ray, and Claire and Tom, I’m going to feel like a broken fifth wheel,” I whine.
