Page 46 of This Time Around

“There is a cute little boutique around the corner from the bar. It’s called Lily’s Lace Parlour,” she tells me. “I actually saw April there.”

“Yeah, what was she up to?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I dodged her and left before she saw me.”

I don’t respond. I’m not sure what to say.

She fills the silence with a sudden rant. “I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t sure how she would respond. She would have known I bought this for you, and she is already so feking pis- so ferking mad,” she slurs.

“She will get over it, B. She just needs time,” I reassure her, taking the drink out of her hand and standing, taking her hand. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ve both had too much to drink.”

I usher her to the tent and get her settled in bed. Then I make my way back out to the fire, pick up all of our food and trash, and put out the fire. When I get back to the tent, Blake is fast asleep, her face aglow from the light on her phone screen.

She must have fallen asleep scrolling. So fucking cute.

I pick up her phone and notice her message app is open to a text she just sent to April.

Blake: Don’t worry. I can handle Luke. I know you think we’re not ready, but I think we are perfect.

April: Well, I’m glad you can handle him, whatever that means.

I stare at the text and cringe.

Fuck.

Shame—Fuck Her

“Why can’t we be friends…”

-Smash Mouth

Blake

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper to myself as I scurry around the tent throwing clothes on. I am trying my hardest to be quiet so I don’t wake Luke, but fail.

“What, what happened?” He shoots up and starts running around mimicking my motions, gathering the clothes he wore last night now scattered on the floor next to our blowup mattress.

I chuckle. “I love how you’re matching my energy right now. Blindly, I might add, but it’s fine. Well, it’s not fine.” A ragged breath escapes me. “I sent a drunk text to April last night, leaving a little too much open for interpretation, and it pissed her off. She’s probably more pissed now because I passed out and didn’t see it until this morning. I have to smooth things over.”

“I saw it come through. I texted her and told her you had been drinking, but she didn’t respond.” He laces his arms around me, attempting to comfort me, but this isn’t something Luke and I can work out.

“Were you going to just leave me here?” he asks.

“Obviously not,” I chuckle nervously. “I was going to pick things up.”

“You are such a little liar. You were totally going to leave me here in your panic,” he jokes, catching on to my little secret shameful admission.

Guess my face gives me away.

“I guess I’ll forgive you this time. I know it’s hard to think clearly with a hangover, especially when you’re emotional.”

“I am not hungover or emotional,” I protest.

“Really? The smell of whisky oozing out of your pores tells a different story, and need I remind you I woke up to you in a panic, ready to leave my ass here with no car and no goodbye?”

“Can you please just help me pack up so I can go talk to her?” I began unzipping the tent and stepping out to a dimly lit sky and the chill of the morning air.

“Blake, it’s only 5:12 am,” I hear Luke groan as I zip the tent closed and continue to panic pack and throw things in the car. “She and I are going to a baking class tomorrow. I can talk to her then.”