Naturally I’d found myself on Morgan’s profile. I hadn’t used my account in years until Morgan and I had started hanging out, but I’d reactivated it recently, checking out her profile every now and then without actually following her. I was scrolling through a carousel of images she’d posted after our trip to Hay that I’d now seen about a dozen times; there was nothing of me, or even her for that matter, but rather just artful shots of the books and shops, and of a box of fudge next to the river. I could almost taste the chocolate and feel it melting on my fingers when I saw it, and I wished, not for the first time, that I were doing something with Morgan this weekend instead of listening to a bunch of drunk guys try to one-up each other with how well they knew the groom. Three nights was a long time, and not for the first time today, I asked myself if the two days of holiday I’d had to use had been worth it.
“Whatcha doin?” Phil asked, staggering over – he’d clearly had a few beers himself – and sinking down into the chair opposite me. I pocketed my phone as quickly as I could. “Insta-stalking Morgan?” he asked, pointing to my shorts where my phone was still peeking out of my pocket.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Phil laughed. “You’re in so fuckin’ deep, man.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes, but he wasn’t wrong. I’d spent most of the week reminiscing about last weekend, or looking at the book she’d bought me, or thinking about the Ren Faire. It was getting closer – we were about two and a half months out, and I knew Phil had been sewing his little fingers off to get us ready.
“How’s it going with you?” I asked, partially because I cared, but mostly to get the spotlight off of me.
“Living the dream, man,” he said, but there was a bit of sadness in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed. I instantly panicked – had I missed something going on with Phil? Had something happened? If he wasn’t okay and I’d missed it because I’d been running around with Morgan too much, I’d never forgive myself.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, and he must have heard the heightened tone of my voice, because he instantly smiled, and it was like the sadness just evaporated.
“Oh yeah, all good,” he said, waving his hands. “I’m just getting sick of being unemployed. I know Ethel needs someone around, but she doesn’t actually like being looked after. So when I’m not doing the three things a day she actually needs me for, I’m either working on a project or watchingEastEndersreruns with her. That’s why I was so excited to have the costumes to work on. I’ve gone through so many audiobooks making Morgan’s chain mail…”
I smiled, but it didn’t escape me how he’d brought the conversation back around to Morgan already.
“How is she?” Phil asked, taking a sip of his beer, looking pointedly at me over the glass.
I rolled my eyes. “We’re just friends, Philip.”
He pointed at my pocket again. “Jack, you’ve barely been on social media of any kind since you and Aria broke up. If you’re casually scrolling through her profile, that’s a big deal.”
“What makes you think I was on her profile?” I asked, but he just pointed to the window behind me. It was dark outside, so the reflection was crystal clear. He’d actually seen me on Morgan’s profile, which meant he’d known I was deflecting. Which, of course, made me look even guiltier.
“Okay, fine,” I admitted. “She posted some pictures from our trip to Hay over the weekend. I just wanted to see them.”
He nodded slowly. “Sure you did.”
“That’s all I was doing,” I insisted.
“I believe you,” he said, in a way that told me he very much did not believe me. I wouldn’t have, either. “But you know, it would be okay if youdidlike her.”
“What does that mean?” I didn’t like his tone; it was the way he talked to his nan when he was trying to help her remember something. Like he needed to beat around the bush so she could figure it out for herself.
“It doesn’tmeananything,” he said. “But it’s been a while. And if she makes you happy, you should go for it.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. It was exhausting, trying to make sense of things with Morgan. I couldn’t even figure out my side of the equation, much less how she felt – and evenlesshow to go about articulating that to someone else.
A roar of “Wheyey!” erupted from the other room, causing us both to jump slightly.
“Beer pong,” Phil said in explanation, and I sighed. It was like a frat house out of some American comedy film.
I was about to suggest I might go for a walk, or at least find a spot even further from the noise, maybe somewhere I could put my headphones on without seeming antisocial. I’d actually brought the bloody book with me, just in case I had time to actually read it – maybe I could flick through it in my room. But before I could suggest it, my phone buzzed.
I took it out of my pocket and tried to control my facial expression as best as I could when I saw the message was from Morgan, but I could feel the corners of my mouth wanting to tug upward.
Hey! I’ve got an obnoxiously long to-do list from Cara’s mum that I have to get done before Monday. If you’re around at all, can I buy you pizza in exchange for doing my work for me? I know you said you’re seeing friends this weekend though, so I’ll text Chloe as backup. No worries.
I’d typed my reply before I could even think twice:
I’m away tonight, but I can be there by 1pm tomorrow. If we don’t get it done then, I can come back on Sunday. That work?
Her reply came almost as quickly as I’d sent mine:
Perfect! See you tomorrow x
