Brodie:Still no.
I stare at that last text. Brodie's probably hunched over his drafting table right now, designing some masterpiece while judging the rest of us mere mortals. He's got that whole tortured artist thing down. All deep thoughts and meaningful silences. Sometimes, I catch him watching me like he's waiting for me to crack; to finally say something real.
But that's the thing about us, we've perfected this dance of almost-friendship. Beer and football scores. Surface-level bullshit that never cuts deeper than last night's game or which bartender's working tonight. He doesn't ask why I'm really calling, and I don't tell him how much my life is imploding.
My thumb hovers over James's name. Another friendship built on comfortable lies. We're both too busy running from our own shit to call each other out. It's perfect, really. He pretends not to notice when I'm spiraling, and I ignore how he still flinches every time someone mentions Daphne.
Me:WHERE R U ASSHOLE? BOUT TO REPLACE U WITH BRODIE.
Nothing.
Me:BRODIE SAYS HE'LL BE MY NEW BFF. HE GETS ME.
Which is a complete lie since Brodie already shot me down, but James doesn't have to know that. All I want is for him to show up at O'Malley's so I can fake normal for one damn night.
When he doesn't respond, I play dirty.
Me:JAMES. O'MALLEY'S. NOW. OR I START TELLING DAPHNE YOU STILL HAVE A CRUSH ON HER.
James:You wouldn't dare.
Perfect. He won't ask about the Pixel Dreams email burning a hole in my inbox. Won't mention how I keep checking my phone like maybe Ivy will reach out, or how I haven't seen her since the wedding. How I've been avoiding her.
I grab my keys, ready to escape into a night of bad decisions and worse whiskey.
"Going out?" Mom calls just as I reach the door.
"Yeah." I force my signature everything's-fine grin. The one that usually works on everyone except her. "Don't wait up."
"Caleb." Her voice gentles, and something in me pulls taut. When I turn, she's got that mom-radar look. "You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?"
For a second, I nearly crack. Come close to spilling everything.
"Nothing to talk about." I shrug instead. "Just meeting James."
She watches me a beat longer, then sighs. "Be safe."
"Always am."
Tonight can be about bad decisions and worse drinks. About pretending I'm still that guy who doesn't want more than this. The one who isn't terrified of ending up like his dad, realizing too late whathe's been missing.
Time to do what I do best. Pretend everything's fine until it actually is.
Or until I'm drunk enough to forget it isn't.
O'Malley's hits me witha wall of noise and cheap beer. Saturday night means the usual mix of locals and tourists, all bathed in that familiar neon glow that makes everyone look a little less real.
Joey raises an eyebrow as I claim a spot at the bar. "The usual?"
"Double. Actually, make it two and keep 'em coming."
The whiskey hits my system, a familiar lie burning just enough to pretend it's helping. Joey's already lining up another when they appear, the universe tossing me a lifeline I'm not sure I want to grab.
"Is this seat taken?"
Three girls hover nearby, all in curated denim and flawless makeup, radiating weekend getaway. There's a calculated air to them. The kind of girls who post bad decisions online, dressed up in flattering filters. The blond is wearing some overhyped perfume that's working as hard as her smile to get attention.
"I'm Lucy," she says, sliding onto the stool next to me. Behind her, a redhead and a brunette giggle. "These are my friends Kenzie and Charlie. We're visiting for the weekend."
