It only takes around five minutes for Sabrina to show up, her light brown hair trailing behind her as she walks through the doors.
“Hi. I heard Nick’s being a douche?” she says, sitting down.
I shake my head. “Nah. He’s just…I don’t know, beating himself up a little too much.”
When Sabrina tilts her head, I continue, filling her in on what went down.
“So, yeah,” Claire says, “it sounds like someone needs an intervention.”
Sabrina shakes her head. “He isn’t here, so what’s stopping him from moping around and hanging up on us?”
She has a good point.
Turning to me, Sabrina asks, “what does your finals schedule look like?”
“I don’t have one for the next two weeks.” I shrug. “Before yesterday, I was thinking about visiting him, but?—”
“Do it,” Claire and Sabrina say at the same time.
“Nick needs something to jolt him out of his funk, and a nice little visit from you would do just the trick,” Sabrina continues. “But only if you can swing it.”
“I was even checking prices yesterday, and they aren’t too high,” I mumble. “But I’m a little concerned about him thinking this is yet another example of me making sacrifices for his sake.”
Sabrina clasps her hands together. “Has he told you about?—”
“His parents? Yeah.”
“He hasn’t told me,” Claire says. “I can step out if you need to talk about it.”
“I’ll just be vague,” Sabrina says. “So basically, this poor guy thinks he doesn’t deserve love because his parents blamed him for blowing their marriage up. You can prove he does. Trust me, he’ll respond well, and if he doesn’t…well, he won’t.”
Nodding in agreement, I offer a small smile. “I kind of got that impression. I can book something.”
My fingers race through my phone, pulling up a list of flights to Phoenix. It’s cheaper if I fly out of Manchester with a connection, and it doesn’t cost anything extra if I leave tonight. Hotels aren’t looking too bad, either.
So I book them, throwing my phone on the table once I’m done. The confirmation screen flashes blue for everyone to see.
Claire and Sabrina nod in approval, grinning.
“Attaboy,” Claire says, slapping my shoulder. “We gotta get you packed and out of here, and I’ll drive—” She cuts her sentence short, her face molding into a frown. “Fucking Oscar has the car. I can’t take you to the airport.”
I wave her off. “I can take care of myself.”
“Sure,” Sabrina says, standing up and pulling her phone out. “I’ll see what I can do to get you a ride.”
The three of us part ways, and I dash back to my apartment so I can pack. I have six hours before my first flight leaves, the drive to the Manchester airport takes a little over two hours, and…yeah. I’ll be fine.
My phone pings with a text as I’m halfway through digging my summer clothes out of a box.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Yo, it’s Nick’s friend Ian.
I smile, adding his contact.
Ian
Sabrina filled me in on the cute lil plan and I’m so down to drive you to the airport.
