“Thought you said I couldn’t handle my booze.”
“Not as in you vomit all over the place—you can’t handle it in the sense of how much you drink. That’s your problem.” She takes a sip from her mug, sighing contentedly as the coffee hits her system. “Speaking of tonight, where are we going?”
“Probably Lorde’s, that place that plays their music too loud but has really good drink specials. It’s where we pretty much always go on these nights out. The boss loves it.”
Another groan. “I thought you said we were going to be alone.”
“I’ve been thinking about that actually. We can’t go out alone.”
Her mouth drops open. “Because I saw you naked?”
“What?” I shake my head. “No. We’re over that already.” Lie. “I meant we can’t go out alone because then it’s going to look like we’re on a date. And if it looks like we’re on a date…”
“Then I can’t get laid.” She nods and takes another drink. “That makes sense. But—”
“No!” I point at her. “No. When you say but like that, it means you’re going to follow it with—”
“Counteroffer.” She says it like I never spoke. “How about instead of going out with your douchebag co-nerds, we invite River and Dean?”
As much as I would prefer that… “Then we’ll look like we’re on a double date.”
“Ugh. True.” She huffs. “Fine. We’ll just go out with your friends.”
“You say that like I want to go out with them or something.”
“You say that like you’re not friends with them.”
“I have to be friends with them. Boss’s orders.”
“Your boss is so weird, forcing you all to go out and be social.”
“It’s called being normal. You should try it sometime.”
She taps her chin, pretending to think it over. “Hmm…no, thanks.” She takes another drink, smirking at me over the rim of her mug. “What are you making me for breakfast?”
I bark out a laugh. “Making you for breakfast? I’m the one who gave you a free show last night. You owe me breakfast.”
She glowers. “Are you going to hold this whole thing over my head for the rest of our lives?”
“Yes. In fact, I’m marking it on the calendar as a special occasion. We’ll commemorate this day for years to come.”
Back in high school after Caroline got her first boyfriend, she—like every other teenage girl with a boy on her arm—became obsessed with arbitrary dates and anniversaries. For a moment there, she reminded me of Leslie Knope from Parks and Recreation, having a special date and anniversary for every little thing.
The first time Bobby John took me to get ice cream.
The first time Bobby John winked at me.
The first time Bobby John picked his nose and didn’t eat the boogers.
Okay, fine. The last one might be made up.
But it doesn’t detract from how real her weird fascination was.
Being the good best friend I am, I relentlessly made fun of her and made a calendar just for us. Whenever I started to remind her of our anniversary of the time she accidentally farted when she laughed too hard watching Shrek, she quickly got over her obsession.
It was too late because it was way too much fun to stop.
So, we didn’t.
We’re a little pickier about what we add to our calendar, but we still continuously update it and celebrate each day accordingly.
This one is definitely going on there.
She sighs defeatedly. “I hate how quickly you answered that.”
Taking another big gulp from her coffee, she hops off the stool, lifting an eyebrow my way. Her hand is on her hip and she’s staring at me with those Don’t test me eyes, reminding me of all the times she called me an ass for stealing her books when we were kids.
“Fine. I’ll buy you breakfast and drinks tonight, but starting at midnight exactly, it’s in the past. Got it?”
I tap my heels together and stand ramrod straight, saluting her like a soldier in formation. “Yes, ma’am.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll get dressed. Breakfast in twenty?”
I nod, and she skips from the room, looking much happier than she did when she first entered.
I exhale the breath I feel like I’ve been holding since she walked in and scrub a hand through my hair.
We’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.
I pluck my phone from my pocket and navigate to the calendar.
Everything will be fine. I’ll make sure of it.
4
Caroline
I’ll never tell my boss this to her face because I’m about seventy-five percent certain she’d fire me on the spot, but I much prefer cake to pie.
That said, even though The Gravy Train, an old train depot turned restaurant, is famous for its pie and twenty-four-seven breakfast-only menu, it’s still one of my favorite spots in the city solely for their waffles.
When Cooper said I owed him breakfast, my stomach growled at the thought of stopping by The Gravy Train.
Standing here waiting in line to place our order is making it roar even louder.
It’s a welcome distraction from all the thoughts of last night trying to barge their way into my brain.
I will not think about last night. I will not think about last night.
I have that sentence on permanent repeat, scrolling through my mind front and center like a movie marquee.
“Was that your stomach?”
“I’m starving. I ate dinner super early last night and then was too scared to creep out of my room for a snack.”
His smirk makes me regret bringing it up.
But it’s not a lie. I was too nervous to leave my room last night. I lay awake for hours trying to forget what happened. It was no use. The whole incident was burned into my brain.
And when I wasn’t awake thinking about it, I was dreaming about it until I forced myself awake.
The cycle repeated.
“You act like such an old lady sometimes, eating dinner at four. Wheel of Fortune isn’t even on then.” He shakes his head, thankfully not commenting on our hallway mishap. “Let me guess, you had soup for dinner, didn’t you?”
“It was cold in our apartment!”
“Old lady.”
“Soup is not an old-person food.”
An actual old man in front of us turns around with a grin.
“Did someone say soup? I have a bowl of some great homemade vegetable at home.” He pats his belly. “I already can’t wait for dinner.”
I give him a smile, and Cooper—poorly—hides his laugh with a cough.
As soon as the old man turns back around, I smack my idiotic best friend.
It sends him into a coughing fit, drawing the eyes of many patrons, several of whom happen to live in our apartment building.
It’s in the heart of the city, and we’re aware every day just how lucky we were to score it. Almost all the occupants are older and come to The Gravy Train for breakfast every day.
Which also unfortunately means whatever happens around the apartments becomes the hot gossip at the diner.