She laughs, but it’s weak.
“Nah. I mean”—I swipe a hand through my hair and try to sound more confident than I feel—“yeah, there’s girls, but no girlfriend. Not right now at least.”
“Oh,” she says, and is that disappointment I hear? That I’m single and she isn’t? “What about Rory? You always talk about her when you email.”
“Gross.” I scoff and then backpedal because that came out harsher than I intended. “I just mean that I think of her like a sister.I can’t imagine dating her, that would just be weird. No, we’re just friends.”
I never even considered keeping the stories about what Rory and I get up to out of my emails. It’s the stories with the other girls I never shared. There’s never been anything between me and Rory.
“We’rejust friends.” Avi’s gaze holds mine when she says it, like she’s challenging me. Because she’s right, wearejust friends, but Avi has never felt like a sister. Never.
“Yeah… but it’s not the same.”
She tilts her head. “How so?”
“It just isn’t. We’ve… kissed.” The words are out before I can think better of bringing it up and I instantly regret it. Her cheeks turn that perfect shade of pink I love and her eyes bounce away, unable to hold mine any longer with the remembrance of our kiss sitting between us. I scratch my jaw and move us back into safer territory. “So, other than the boyfriend… Isaac? How is school?”
“Ian…” she says, exasperated, and rolls her eyes. Those brown eyes that I think of more often than I should.
“Yeah, right.” I don’t care what his name is. That probably makes me an ass, but it’s true.
“School’s good. Not much to tell you beyond what I mentioned in our emails.”
Our emails were pretty few and far between, both of us busy with our own lives on different continents, so when we would catch up, it was a lot about school, our friends, and any adventures we’d had… which are never as good as the ones we have together.
“What about the restaurant? Still working with your mum on weekends?”
She brightens at this, her smile growing wide on her face. She doesn’t have on all the makeup she was wearing last summer, like maybe she finally realized she doesn’t need it… Not here with me, anyway.
“Yeah, when I can. I’ve started researching culinary programs for when I finish school. The one that Mum did in Paris will likely be accepting applicants, but I don’t know if I want to leave Scotland.”
“I get that,” I say, and then hesitate before continuing. “And if you’d asked me two years ago if I thought I’d leave Scotland for uni, I would’ve said no. But now—”
“What?” Her eyes bore into mine.
“Now, after having left the bubble of Skye—having seen more of the world, seen other things—I don’t know. I love Scotland, but there’s so much more out there.”
“You don’t think you’ll come back?” she asks, her face falling.
I reach out and brush her knuckles with my fingers before I pull back, remembering I can’t just touch her because I want to.
She’s not mine to touch.
“I’m not saying that. I’m just glad I’ve had the chance to see what else there is. It’s opened my eyes to other opportunities.” I shrug again, and this timeshereaches for my hand. I don’t stop her when she laces her fingers through mine.
“I guess venturing out isn’t so bad. I just think Scotland will always be home for me.” She’s zoned in on our hands. “It can be for you too.”
“I know,” I say, dipping my face to her level so our gazes lock. We stay like that, and it’s a staring contest I don’t want to lose. I could get lost in those eyes.
She breaks first, looking away across the garden. “So, what’re you going to study at uni then, wherever you go?”
The change of subject breaks the tension I’d sensed growing between us. “Creative writing, maybe journalism too. Give myself options. But I know I want to write in some capacity.”
“Like books?” she asks, her lips parting and then closing again before tilting up in a wide smile. “I can see it now, Jameson Liam Murray, award-winning novelist. What do you want to write about?”
“Adventure mostly.”
“Like with the adventures of Jamie and Avi?” she asks, nudging my shoulder with hers.
