Our eyes connect, and the storm inside of me awakens. Neither of us says anything or moves, my breath cutting off. Suddenly the weight of Reeve’s arm on my back feels overly heavy, the air around us thick.
“I, uh,” he starts before cutting himself off. “I got you something.” He quickly pulls away, shaking his head to himself as he walks to the couch.
I brush off the moment, unable to fully process what’s happened. I’ve never been afraid to go after what I want in life, but after one rejection from Reeve all those years ago, the risk of another is too much.
“You got me something,” I say, managing to find my voice. After walking to the couch, I grab my wine and take a few big sips. Okay, a few glugs.
“I saw them the other day, remembered you said something about liking this brand.” He looks around the room, trying to act as if it’s not a big deal as he hands me a packet of my favorite watercolor pencils. Pencils I know for a fact are not cheap.
I take them from him, our hands grazing in the process. He steps back as though he’s been shocked, but schools his features.
“Wow, I don’t know what to say. You really shouldn’t have,” I reply, looking over the gift. It’s exactly what I would use, and I’ve been meaning to get another set for months now, but it wasn’t a necessity and wasting money isn’t in my best interest.
“It’s not a big deal. I saw them, knew you’d like them, so I got them.” His voice is light, carefree, as if the act isn’t extremely thoughtful and heartfelt. He sits down on the couch, his attention now on the TV. “So, what are we watching?”
Swallowing a few times, I compose myself before sitting down. I look at him, ignoring his question about the movie.
“Reeve.”
He turns to me, his knee a few centimeters from my own.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice steady and true. He smiles, pleased at how much I love them.
“You’re welcome, Emmy.”
Clearly a bit uncomfortable from my display of gratitude, he refocuses his attention on the TV, pressing Play despite not knowing what I picked. He laughs when Bring It On starts to play, but says nothing. I know he secretly loves these movies.
And that’s how we sit as the movie begins, Reeve trying to hide his laughter while I grin proudly.
The next few months pass in a haze. My new friend Stana becomes a permanent fixture in our previously-a-foursome, her attention quickly shifting to my older brother, much to his chagrin.
Through ups and downs and rights and wrongs, they manage to finally make things work, while Stana quickly becomes my closest friend in London. Despite the little time I’ve known her, her presence radiates a permanence and age-long friendship. She becomes the sister I always wanted and the best friend I never knew I needed.
Along with Stana comes Lottie, her cousin, an absolute spitfire. And slowly, the walls our small group have built around ourselves to keep others out begin to melt, the idea of us having other companions that don’t necessarily know or understand the trauma life has thrown at us not seeming like such a horror.
After that night in January, Reeve and I meet at his place in Bloomsbury on the last Sunday of every month. It’s the night Owen is always out doing Lord knows what.
While never overtly romantic, the little moments between the two of us are hard to ignore, Reeve always managing to slip in some type of gift he’s seen that made him think of me. It’s two friends enjoying the company of one another with good food and wine. We keep it between the two of us, the reasons not really mattering. It probably rings true more to the fact that Ali would question why he and Owen aren’t invited. Well, Owen would kick up more of a stink, probably, hating to miss a good feed. Ali has never been a psycho, overprotective brother, but even he would question why it’s only Reeve and me.
But despite the secrecy of it all, that’s the day of the week I look forward to the most once a month. The day I know it will be the two of us. It’s the highlight of my month…until it isn’t. Until one terrible night in July ruins it all. When the excitement of Sunday turns into a dreaded night alone with cold Chinese food, and nothing to keep me company but the memory of how it all went wrong.
July 2018
“Shit, motherfucking, shit,” I mutter as I attempt to navigate the clusterfuck that is my bedroom. My Hello Kitty alarm from 2004 rings out, shaking violently on my side table. I throw my nearest shoe at it from across the room, hoping if the alarm hits the floor hard enough, it will shut up. That thing has managed to last fourteen years, though, so I doubt a heeled boot can take it down.
After disentangling my feet from my clothes on the floor, I gracefully—okay, haphazardly—kick the clothes into a corner, then grab my beaded handbag, the pearls hanging on for dear life as I bulldoze into my living room.
My orange tabby, Demon, runs out of my way, scurrying for his usual hideout in the corner near the bookshelf. He hates people, even me sometimes, but I love the feisty thing.
“Someone is in a hurry,” Ali remarks as I grab a slice of toast he made me from the bench. I eye my brother, mentally taking him in, something I’ve been doing every day since Stana went back to LA two weeks ago. Her childhood friend, who is a right bitch might I add, was hit by a car and Stana had to go back to help take care of her. Let’s just say I’ve met this girl, Willa, and she’s no one’s cup of tea. Stana is better than most for doing it. Too bad it leaves my brother on the brink of heartbreak at the notion Stana might not come back.
Despite me telling him numerous times she would never leave him, Ali has the same issue as me, always fearing the worst. I think all kids who are in the dead-parents club feel that way, sometimes at least. And if you don’t know what the dead-parents club is, you’re clearly not a member, so thank your lucky stars.
“I told Stana I’d meet Lottie at her flat when she arrived, and I’m running late,” I finally reply to Ali, watching his reaction as I mention Stana’s name. Lottie is Stana’s cousin whose piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend cheated on her for years, and did I mention she moved to Edinburgh for this guy? Yeah, he’s truly the scum of the earth.
“Lottie’s a nice girl, Em. You two will definitely get along.” Ali fakes a smile.
“She seemed cool when I met her. Plus, we love Stana, so I know we’ll love her cousin too.”
Ali catches me staring and raises his brows. “I’m not going to break, Emilia. You can mention Stana’s name around me.”
I grimace. “I know, sorry.”
His lips turn up at the sides, a genuine smile from Alistair Ronan.
“Didn’t you say you were running late?” he says, humor in his voice.
My eyes widen and my feet begin to move before I register what I’m doing. “Shit, I’ll see you later, Ali! Can you feed the cat?” I call out, already halfway out of the flat.
“Already done it,” Ali yells back to me.
Of course he has.
I run out the door as if my arse is on fire, straight to the little flat in Notting Hill I’m so familiar with.
“You know you didn’t have to do all this,” Lottie says between bites of her croissant. I look to the spread of pastries and bread I picked up along the trip here.