“So, are you going to class at all or is being a rebel your new thing Miss I-Want-To-Have-Fun?”
She rolls her eyes. “My GPA is perfect, thank you very much. And look who's talking?”
I shrug and grab a piece of her Pop-Tart and toss it into my mouth. “I schedule classes for later in the day so I can sleep. You know, like normal people.”
“Easton has morning classes, too,” she argues.
The corners of my mouth raise. “I said normal.”
That manages to pull a giggle out of her that I wouldn't mind hearing every damn day of my life.
She finishes up her food and throws the wrapper into the trash before checking her phone. “How many classes do you have today?”
“Two, why?”
The devious grin that appears on her face should scare me, but I only find it mesmerizing. “I'll skip if you will.”
And, well, who am I to turn down that offer?
THE TWO OF US spend the day going out to breakfast, watching a movie in an empty theater that may have broken out in a popcorn war, and talking about just about anything we can think of. She tells me about how Kennedy tried to act like there was nothing going on between her and Easton while sporting a massive hickey on her neck, and how a kid in one of her law classes who snorts every couple seconds tried to ask her out. Needless to say, that one makes me tease her with how they're clearly going to get married one day.
By the time we both get back home, Easton's car is parked outside, and the sun is starting to set. We walk inside and she smiles up at me.
“I had a lot of fun today,” she tells me.
“I did, too.”
We're about to go our separate ways when I remember something I found a couple weeks ago while going through a few of my things. Something I wanted to show her at the time, but couldn't because any time I opened my mouth within five feet of her, she was telling me to go fuck myself.
“Come with me?” I ask. “I have something I think you want to see.”
With an intrigued expression on her face, she follows me upstairs and into my room. I open the desk drawer and pull out a stack of pictures. They're all from when we were younger.
A few of me and the guys.
A few with Amelia there.
And my secret favorite, one of just Amelia and me.
“Oh my God, is that the igloo?” she asks, and I nod.
There was a snowstorm one night while I had slept over, and when we woke up, there was at least four feet of snow on the ground. Amelia had mentioned she always wanted to build an igloo but never knew how. I didn't know either, but I looked it up online for a couple hours, and when I finally had a basic idea, we went outside and got to it.
Easton got cold after about an hour, and honestly, so did I. But there was no way I wasn't finishing that thing. She watched me like I was the best person in the world as I molded the snow and built the perfect igloo for her.
By the time Mrs. Donovan came out to take our picture, both of our faces were red and our lips were purple, but we're both smiling from ear to ear.
I nudge Amelia with my elbow as she stares down at the photo.
“And you said we were never friends.”
So, it may have taken a little bit longer than acceptable...okay, a lot longer than acceptable...but I think I finally have a handle on this bartender thing. I don't know how Paul hasn't fired me yet. I swear, that man has more patience than a monk. Then again, he might say the same thing about me as he walks by and hears Kennedy chewing my ear off.
“You have no idea, Amelia,” she whines. “This girl is the absolute worst. Can't I just kick her out and have you back?”
I chuckle as I fill a customer's beer. “Ken, she was there first. You can't kick her out of what's technically her room.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. “Why not?”