What Are Friends For?: The will-they-won't-they romance of the year!

by Lizzie O'Hagan

  ‘But what if he—’

  ‘Evelyn,’ Becky says, already beginning to walk towards the lift. She turns around to smile at me. ‘You’re an ending worth waiting for.’

  I smile back at my best friend, tears in my eyes, ready to talk to my dad for the first time in years. I don’t feel like an ending right now. I feel like a new beginning.

  Chapter Thirty

  Max

  I search for a new beginning, scrolling through my Kindle app trying to find a story strong enough to distract me. Turns out the only thing strong enough to distract me from the thought of Becky and Eve coming down the escalator beside me is the security guard breathing down my neck.

  ‘They shouldn’t be long now.’ I look at him towering over me.

  ‘For your sake, I hope so,’ he laughs. ‘This your girl?’ and I turn my head so quickly I swear I’ve given myself whiplash. Looking at the lifts, heart leaping out of my chest, I see Becky.

  ‘No, no it’s not.’ My heart sinks. She was never my girl.

  My eyes search for Eve, but I know she’s not coming down. Not while I’m here. Eve was never my girl either. She’s her own woman. Individual and unpredictable in a way the protagonists confined to the pages of my books never could be. And that’s a good thing. I’d rather have a relationship off script anyway. I know that now.

  ‘Hey, Max,’ Becky says, her smile soft and kind. She looks calmer now. Lighter for having been able to sort things out with Eve. But what about me? When will I be able to sort things out with her? ‘I’m sorry, but—’

  ‘How is she?’ I interrupt. I don’t give a shit about me right now. I just want to know how Eve is feeling.

  ‘She’s okay,’ Becky sighs. She deserves to be better than okay. To know how wonderful she is. Just as her.

  ‘And the two of you?’

  ‘We’re going to be fine.’ Becky can’t help but beam. My eyes dart behind her, still not knowing whether Eve is going to materialise, what I’ll say to her if she does. ‘Max . . .’

  ‘I guess this is my cue to go home.’ Becky nods slowly. My heart sinks like my stomach. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Sure, her messages meant a lot to me. But she thought she was messaging Tom. Now that she knows she wasn’t, that I don’t look or talk or act like him, I should have realised she’d want to move on.

  That it was too good to be true.

  ‘She just needs some time.’ Becky smiles.

  ‘Time?’ My stomach flips and my heart flutters with hope. ‘Time for what?’

  ‘She’s going to go and see her dad.’ Her smile vanishes. She never should have got in touch with Freddie without Eve’s permission. But people make mistakes. Just look at me. ‘She needs a bit of time to process everything.’

  If I was Eve, I’d need some time too. Even if my messages have got into her head, her dad has been on her mind longer. She owes it to herself to sort things out with him first.

  ‘I get that.’ I nod, giving Becky a little hug, not meaning to grab her so tightly.

  ‘I’ll send your bestie back to you.’ She laughs a little. To think I ever thought her heart was set on him.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, knowing I’ll need Tom’s strength to pick me up tonight.

  ‘Oh, and can I have your number?’ Becky grins. ‘For Eve? She asked me to ask you. My friend thinks you’re pretty cute.’

  ‘Well I think your friend is pretty cute too.’ I can’t help but laugh. After all this time, it feels like just the beginning. I tap the digits into Becky’s phone.

  ‘It might take her a bit of time to work everything through,’ Becky explains again. ‘But she wanted to have it for if she wants to get in touch.’

  I smile back at Becky before turning to leave her behind. And with her, I leave Eve behind too – an Eve who might just message me.

  Emerging from the Tube station, I blink in the last of the evening light. I’m back south of the river – the right side of the tracks – but Eve’s ‘if’ has made its way across the border with me. My phone buzzes in my pocket: Eve? My heart leaps in my chest.

  Tom work: Hey, dude. Back home. You on your way?

  Max: Yeah, just walking back now.

  Tom work: Great, dinner on the go.

  Tom work: Strange day, eh?

  Max: You can say that again.

  Tom work is typing . . .

  Max: Don’t say it.

  Max: How was Eve’s dad?

  Tom work: Freddie?

  Tom work: He’s a G.

  Max: Huh?

  Tom: A gangster, like proper cool.

  Max: Oh Tom, you can’t pull ‘G’ off.

  Tom work: Hey, you tried to pull off being me.

  Tom work: You can at least let me have this.

  Max: Never again, dude.

  Tom work: Never again.

  I look up from the screen, gazing across the common as I walk the long way home. Eve will be back by now. Back with Becky. With her dad. Starting from where they left off? Maybe even better.

  If. If. If. Those two little letters circle in my mind with every step I take towards home. But when it comes to how I feel about Eve, I’m pretty sure they don’t apply. I like her. Maybe even more than that. It was Becky’s words – Eve’s words – that had me hooked.

  I look down at my phone. I want to hear from her, to start again. Or start from where we left off. That part is clear. Whether I’ll actually hear from her? That part isn’t clear at all.

  Putting one foot in front of the other, I walk on. I have no idea what happens next. Just like I had no idea what was coming with my grandma, or Peggy. When grief would hit or loneliness would lift. Life has a way of surprising you like that.

  As I turn onto our street, the sunset lights up the sky: reds bleed into pinks and oranges fade to yellow as the sun kisses the ground. Whatever happens with Eve from here on in, we’ll both be okay. We’ll make mistakes. We’ll pivot. We’ll turn. But the sun will always rise. Reaching for my phone again, I pull up her number and delete it. I’m not going to force things this time. It’s time to let go and let the rest just happen.

  Walking into our living room, I see Tom lying in his usual space on the sofa, beer in one hand, book in the other.

  ‘Tom Hardy?’ I laugh. ‘Who are you trying to impress?’

  My eyes search the room, but he’s dateless. The days of Ruby and Yvonne and Becky are long gone. Now it’s just us. But there will be others for Tom. When the time is right, maybe even when it isn’t. I guess there’s some kind of magic in the mystery.

  ‘Peaky Blinders himself.’ Tom laughs, looking up. ‘It’s actually pretty good.’

  ‘I’ve been telling you that for years.’

  ‘How you doing, buddy?’

  ‘I’m all right,’ I sigh. Been better. But I’m all right. And I’ll be better than all right soon.

  ‘Good.’ He smiles. I know that when I want to talk about it, he’ll be there, but right now, he knows what I need. Distraction. And not the dating kind. ‘Is there a film version of this?’

  ‘I knew you weren’t enjoying it.’

  ‘I am, I am.’ He throws his hands up in protest. ‘Just not enough to read it all.’

  ‘There is,’ I say, reaching between the sofa cushions, feeling for the remote. I scroll through the film options, pretty sure that with these apps we’ll always get a match.

  ‘Tom?’ I say over the flickering of the TV.

  ‘Yeah, mate?’

  ‘Thanks for being there today.’

  ‘What I’m here for.’ He shrugs.

  I reach into my pocket, pulling out his cracked phone, the one that got me into all this trouble – with all this promise – in the first place.

  ‘Won’t be needing this any more.’ I throw it onto the sofa beside him.

  ‘Thanks, dud
e,’ he says, rolling it over in his hand. ‘Barely works anyway, good for nothing . . .’ His sentence fades into the opening scene of the movie.

  It was good for something. I smile as my eyes drift to the screen, remembering all over again why I love this story. The writing. The romance. The fact that the guys are willing to fight for the heart of one girl. That they know what it’s like to find something worth putting it all on the line for.

  I guess sometimes that’s a cause – like loving those with dementia or sharing stories that matter. Or it’s the family you’re given or the family you choose. And sometimes, just sometimes, there’s that one special person who’s worth the wait, worth putting it all on the line – or taking it all offline – for.

  Epilogue

  Unknown: Hey, Max. I’m a journalist hoping to cover Peggy’s Walk today. Could I grab you for a quick interview?

  Max: Hey.

  Max: Yeah, sure, that’s great. Who you with?

  Unknown: I’m freelance.

  Unknown: But I’m a regular contributor to lots of the nationals.

  Max: Great. I’m at the finishing line party on Carnaby Street.

  Max: You’re welcome to join.

  Unknown: Brilliant. I’ve actually just arrived there now.

  Unknown: How will I recognise you?

  Max: I’ll be the one in the orange and pink tie-dye T-shirt.

  Unknown: Bold look.

  Max: Official merch.

  Max: Which thinking about it isn’t that helpful for finding me.

  Max: I know, why don’t I find you?

  Max: What are you wearing?

  Unknown: Bit cheeky.

  Max: Oh God, sorry. No. I didn’t mean anything by that.

  Max: I just don’t know how to spot you in this crowd.

  Unknown: Chill out, Max. I was only joking.

  Max: Oh, right.

  Unknown: Okay, I’m here.

  Max: Great. What am I looking for?

  Unknown: You’re looking for a tall woman.

  Unknown: Like, really tall.

  Unknown: Long blonde hair.

  Unknown: Recently resolved daddy issues.

  Unknown: Often seen with small friend in tow.

  Unknown: Very available.

  Max is typing . . .

  Max: Eve?

  Unknown: And if that doesn’t work . . .

  Unknown: I’m standing behind you right now.

  Unknown: Waiting to kiss you.

  Max: Eve?

  Unknown: Just turn around and kiss me, you idiot.

  Acknowledgements

  This story would not be in your hands without two incredible women: Sallyanne Sweeney and Jess Whitlum-Cooper. From the very beginning, you have both been the greatest champions of this book and it has been a pleasure bringing this story to life with you.

  A huge thanks must of course go to the entire team at Headline Review. Not only have you published this book with diligence and determination, but during a global pandemic no less!

  This book is ultimately about friendship, and I’ve been blessed to have many a friend show me the meaning of the word throughout my relatively short time on this planet. From dancing in the playground at Holymoorside and lounging in free periods with the Brookfield lot, to drinking in Nottingham, adventuring in Sydney and laughing around London, you all know who you are. For this particular story, a special thanks must go to all the friends I have lived with over the years: you have all felt like family. And Nick, thanks for supporting me in a thousand little ways during the writing of this book.

  Then of course there is Mum, Dad, Thomas and Rachel – I love you all so much. To the O’Hagans, thank you. And ‘to him who is able to do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine’ thank you for setting my sights on a story bigger than me.

  Keep in touch with Lizzie O’Hagan

  @LizzieOHagan1

  @lizzie_ohagan