“Party’s here!” I call as I open the bright blue door of Adam and Grace’s shingled Craftsman, ignoring the gallery wall displayed above the entry table where I dump my purse. Last time I was here I noticed all the new pictures taken while I was in Seattle, including a group photo of Adam and Grace with their married Marin friends.
I peek into the cozy living room, which is empty but not quiet; a Mac Miller song is pumping through the sound system displayed on a fancy Scandinavian-style media unit.
It’s a much nicer version of the TV stand Eli and I bought for our Upper West Side apartment, a thought I can usually squash before it turns into a memory. But today it splashes out in Technicolor: Eli kneeling on the creaky hardwood floor in front of the brick wall I fell in love with at first sight, muttering to himself while he assembled it. Me cross-legged on the mattress we hadn’t bothered to push into the bedroom yet; the view was better from the living room. I watched him instead of reading the intimidating orientation email from my new company, then laughed when he tackled me, sweat dripping down his nose because we didn’t have an A/C unit yet.
“Look,” he whispered, his mouth grazing mine. “Our first piece of furniture.”
Distantly, I wonder if he still has it, or if he sold it when he moved out. Eli steps up behind me, pulling me from the memory.
“I’m going to drop my stuff in the guest room.” His proximity pushes me into the past again before I shove it away.
“Great,” I chirp, already prepping for the show we’ll put on for Adam.
Eli’s careful not to touch me as he brushes past, which feels unnecessary considering the myriad times he’s already made contact since the airport, but whatever.
I watch him disappear down the hallway. He’s staying at Adam and Grace’s until we go up to Napa next Friday, and I try not to feel lonely that he’s here while I’m flung away in the city by myself. He’s alone all the time.
And you aren’t?
With a sigh, I make my way to the backyard. Adam’s cul-de-sac with like-minded homes is tucked against a densely forested hillside, so his yard is bordered by mature pine and oak trees, which are shimmying in the early evening breeze. A cream sectional and firepit take up most of the patio, and the lawn beyond it is choppily mowed—Adam’s novice craftsmanship. In the city, the only outdoor space they had was a shared, sloping rooftop.
Adam’s frowning down at the grill, but double-takes when he sees me. “Dude, it’s about time,” he says, reaching out for a fist bump. “I thought
you ditched me.”
“When you’re cooking Korean barbecue? Never.” I sidle up to him, peeking at strips of sizzling galbi, then elbow him. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hey, you.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders, squeezing. “How’re things?”
“Great.” A word that doesn’t fit, but the one I use most often. “I almost forgot what your face looked like, though.”
He grimaces, flipping the meat. “I know, it’s been, what, two weeks since we’ve seen you? Three?”
“Five,” I say lightly.
“No way.” His head tilts as he mentally calculates. “Shit, you’re right. Well, you’ll get tired of my face by the time this wedding is done, believe me.”
I let out a hum. “Yours, definitely, but not Grace’s. Where is she?”
“Had to run to pick up a prescription real quick,” he says, poking at the galbi. “She’ll be back.”
I’m about to ask if everything is okay when a voice calls out, “Hey, Kiz, heard there’s a wedding coming up. Thought I’d crash it.”
When I look over my shoulder, Eli is framed by the French doors leading into the kitchen. My heart leaps, even though I just saw him. His
gray T-shirt shows off the tantalizing curve of his biceps and the broadness of his chest, highlighting the way I’d fit right there.
They haven’t seen each other since Adam visited him right after New Year’s, which means I should step out of the way before—
Yep, there they go. Adam pushes around me with a whoop of joy, nearly hurdling over the sectional to wrap his best friend up in a hug. Eli lets out an oof, then a laugh. His eyes close as he claps Adam on the back, something grief-like tightening his features.
Adam’s shoulders drop as he crows happily, swaying Eli back and forth. It’s obvious he needed this. Not just me, but us. It’s moments like this that I’m grateful for the work Eli and I have put into protecting our collective friendship, even though it’s torturous at times. The thought of losing this is worse.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Adam says.
Eli’s exhale is shaky. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here before. For the bach—” “Don’t start that shit again.” Adam pulls back with a frown, smacking
his cheek not-so-softly. “Not kidding, I will smother you in your sleep.”
My heart pings at the expression on Eli’s face, a replica of when he made the speech he must’ve practiced during his six-hour flight. Those wrinkles make sense now.
I saunter closer. “You know it’s legit when Adam threatens murder.” “Exactly,” Adam says, shaking Eli by the shoulders. “Besides, you
covered my buy-in for our fantasy football league this season. We’re good.” Eli gives him a droll look. “Sure, sounds even.”
“It is,” Adam insists. “Your robot brain wins that shit every year and it’s infuriating when it’s my money. You’re saving me the high blood pressure and two hundred dollars. I can put that toward grill accoutrements or something.”
“Or a neighborhood kid who knows how to mow a lawn,” I say. Adam shoots me a glare. “It’s harder than it looks, you dick.”
“To be fair, you make it look impossible,” Eli says, rubbing a hand across his jaw as he slides me a conspiratorial look. I bite back a grin.
“Okay, you know wh—” Adam sighs, keeping one arm around Eli’s shoulders and extending the other toward me, waving his hand. “Shut up and let’s hug it out.”
As I close the distance, I try to assess whether Eli will play along. He’s been so intent on bucking our rules that a wild fear he’ll do it in front of Adam grabs me by the throat.
But I should know better. He’ll do anything for Adam, the same way I will. He lifts his arm, exposing that Georgia-shaped spot. One corner of his mouth quirks into the easy smile I haven’t seen in private for years, executed perfectly.
“Come on in,” he says, like he’s inviting me into his home.
The hug doesn’t last long, but I can feel every point where Eli and I are connected, the way his fingers tighten around my ribs. I swear I feel his breath stutter against my hair, but maybe it’s the breeze. I breathe out slowly, not wanting to inhale any piece of him.
I’m the first to let go, and take two healthy steps back. “How was the DJ call?”
Eli raises an eyebrow at Adam’s groan. “That good, huh?”
“Fucking weird.” Adam shivers. “I don’t want to talk about it. George, any luck on your end?”
“Got a potential list on my phone.”
“I can hel—” Eli starts, but Adam waves him off.
“Nah, let’s put a pin in it. No wedding talk tonight. Grace should be back soon, and Jamie and Blake are on their way.”
Eli’s mouth tightens, then flexes into the approximation of a smile. “Sure.”
“Don’t know what I’d do without you two,” Adam says, shaking his head. “And I don’t want to think about it.”
I know Eli’s response would echo mine: we don’t want to think about it either.
 |
“Your hair! Very dark, luxurious, sex-kitten vibes,” Jamie yelps as she Kool-Aid Mans into the backyard, cinnamon curls shimmying against her fair-skinned cheeks.
“Thanks, suction cup,” I tease as she launches herself at me. My arms go around her waist, squeezing hard so she can’t let me go.
Just like that first time I met Eli, I felt an immediate sense of belonging when I met Jamie. A close high school friend of Grace’s, she’d recently relocated from LA and was looking for a roommate, a welcome coincidence since I’d moved home with nowhere to go. I didn’t want to stay with my dad, even temporarily; I’d just left a workaholic who largely forgot that I lived with him. Thankfully, Jamie opened her door without hesitation.
I miss her so much it aches in my bones.
She pulls back, wide brown eyes fixed on my hair. “You colored it!
When?”
“Last month,” I say as Blake Williams, Jamie’s girlfriend, greets Adam and Eli in the background. It startles me to realize this is the first time she and Eli are meeting. Blake melted into our group so seamlessly that sometimes I forget she and Jamie only started dating eight months ago. Eli’s wearing a contemplative smile as she and Adam laugh. Probably drawing up nickname options.
“Unacceptable,” Jamie sputters. “First, that I haven’t seen you in that long, and second, that you wouldn’t send me a selfie.”
I hold up my hands in defense. “I took a few, but the color difference didn’t show in photos.”
She’s so tied up these days, and I tend to be a mirror anyway; whatever time someone has to give me is what I give back in an attempt to be unobtrusive. I still send her the most important bits of my life, but dyeing my hair two shades darker doesn’t rank.
She presses a finger into my sternum, clearly not in agreement. “Send them anyway. Ten, minimum, from all angles.”
I swat her hand away with a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“She won’t let up until you do, you know,” Blake says as she saunters over. Her locs are pulled back from her architecturally perfect face, and an
intricate collection of tattoos decorates the rich brown skin of her arms. She winds one around my waist, adding in her melting Tennessee twang, “Hey, honey. We miss you.”
“Miss you, too,” I say. My heart squeezes at the we, even though I love seeing Jamie so blissful. It’s just hard to get used to her having another Person, especially because I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye to what had essentially become our long-term platonic partnership. “I’ll send her twelve, just to be safe.”
“I want some commotion for the hair, that’s all,” Jamie says. “It looks amazing.”
I shoot a meaningful look at Adam and Eli. “No one else noticed.”
“It looks brown.” Adam holds his hands up, eyes widening. “Was it not brown before?”
“I noticed,” Eli says, moving closer. “Okay, ass kisser,” Adam mutters.
Eli laughs. “It was brown before, genius.” His finger barely touches my neck as he separates a lock of hair from the rest, but it sets off fireworks in my stomach as if he palmed my throat. I freeze, watch him wind it briefly around his forefinger, then tug, his gaze intent on it. “Now it’s a browner brown.”
Wow. There’s no way he’s noticed my hair despite his oddly avid attention, which means he’s really selling it tonight. His enthusiasm for our show runs on a curve—he’s just as likely to be interrupted by a call or otherwise stressed into distraction.
But right now he’s very present. Maybe Adam’s speech spooked him, too.
I hook a finger over the lock he’s holding, disconnecting us. “Way to nail the technical name of the color.” My gaze flicks up to his hair. “Is that what you asked for, too?”
He rocks back on his heels, putting some space between us. “I went with brownest brown, actually.”
I hum. “A bold move.”
“It looks good.” His eyes make a hard stop where my hair rests at the top slope of my breasts, then rebound.
Good. That word again. He says it now like it means something else, but I don’t know what. What I do know is he’s doing it for the proverbial cameras.
I grant him a sunny smile, saying, “Thank you,” before sliding Adam a teasing glare.
“Oh, Christ,” he mutters. “Can you two please cut me a break on my
wedding week?”
“No,” we say in unison. “Hey.”
We turn at the sound of Grace’s voice. She’s standing in the doorway, a CVS bag dangling from her fingers. She looks stunning in vintage Levi’s and a white tank top that offsets her skin, her black hair waterfalling down her back. Not for the first time, I think about how lucky Adam is. Grace is gorgeous and smart, but she’s also warm and almost supernaturally calm. Tonight she’s glowing, even if her expression is curiously blank.
Come to think of it, so’s the tone of her voice.
“Whatisitareyouokay?” Adam streaks past us, his freckles standing out in stark relief on his suddenly pale face. His eyes move frantically over her. “Is it the—”
“Meadowcrest Ranch called. There was a fire.”
“A fire,” Adam repeats incredulously and with a confusing amount of relief.
“Adam,” Grace says, exasperation weaving through her tone like a stiff breeze. “Our wedding venue caught on fire. It’s gone.”
