Kennedy nods, and they return to talking about Curtis. Ugh. I distract myself with my phone, scrolling through social media, while the girls talk about Curtis and all the fun they're going to have at the beach. At one point, I can't help myself and roll my eyes.
Kennedy catches me and frowns.
Okay, now I feel guilty. I force myself not to roll my eyes again for the rest of the night.
Bonnie and Erin, tired from a long drive, leave an hour later for the spare bedroom to have an early night. Kennedy and I check on my parents, who are tipsy with wine.
"Help me pack until you leave?" Kennedy asks.
I nod because it looks like I'll be here for a while, and we walk to her bedroom. "You haven't finished packing yet?"
"Judge me all you like, but I know you haven't even begun, Liam."
I smother a smile because she's right.
We enter Kennedy's bedroom, with white walls covered in photos and posters and vinyl record covers. She has a bookshelf full of old children's books, as well as boring looking philosophy books by Marx and De Beauvoir and a bunch of Ancient Greek guys. Kennedy sits down on the floor, next to an open suitcase, and I sit beside her and start folding the pile of clothing into neat squares.
"Erin and Bonnie are so nice. Not that I thought they wouldn't be, but it's good we get along," I say.
"Right? The holiday is going to be awesome," says Kennedy.
"Yeah. If only…" I cut myself off.
Kennedy puts down the bikini she's folding and fixes me with a stare. "Liam."
"What?" I blink.
"I appreciate you not hating on Curtis in front of Erin and Bonnie."
"Oh. Er, no worries."
"And I want to keep any antagonism you have towards Curtis to yourself for the rest of the trip."
I sigh. "I understand where you're coming from —"
"Good," Kennedy says with finality. She returns to folding.
"—But you know why I don't like him," I finish.
A memory drifts into my mind, and I see the blurry colours of a high school party. There are yellow fairy lights and rainbow coloured vodka drinks. Crushed up cans on the lawn. Black night, deafening music.
There's Curtis, wearing the same t-shirt every teenage boy wears to a party, which a brand name printed across the chest and sleeves that show off the definition of his arms. His hair is dark gold, almost brown against the darkness of the night.
"I know," Kennedy says, jolting me back to reality. "You think I haven't listened to what you've told me? I have, Liam, but it's my relationship. Trust me and let me make my own decisions, okay?"
"I just… don't want you to get hurt."
Her eyes soften. "I know. But Liam, I'm not going to break up with Curtis. I don't want you to fight with Curtis the whole trip. It'll ruin the holiday for everyone."
I close my eyes, because I know she's right. I don't want to be a pain to her, or Bonnie and Erin.
"So I want you to make me a promise," she continues.
"What is it?"
"On the holiday, I want you to be as nice as possible to Curtis, okay? I want you to be friends."
I open my mouth to protest, then bite my tongue. She wants me to be nice? To be friends with Curtis? That's impossible.
