Page 29 of Dream On, Liar

Even the commute had been worth it.

After our first year, Samyra and I knew that we’d be living together, but renting out private student accommodations meant we got kicked out every summer. Officially, it was for “contract reasons.” Unofficially, it was so our borderline criminal landlords could turn their flats into ‘Holiday Rentals’ for triple the price. Still, it meant we spent the better part of six years bouncing around different corners of London. Which, frankly, I loved. At least when I wasn’t experiencing rage blackouts during moving week. Regardless, with Samyra moving up from Bristol and me down from Manchester, somewhere between terrible oven setups, unreliable boilers, and at least two flats with deeply suspicious mould situations, the city slowly became ours too.

But after Samyra finished her post-grad while I still had another year left of mine, we started looking for somewhere more permanent—because living alone in this economy was just not feasible. We’d picked somewhere closer to her work, considering my part-time role gave me flexibility—my work spread across the city with the Women’s ODI team, and my private clients.

So for an entire year during my post-grad, I’d spent over two hours travelling to Greenwich nearly every day and by the time graduation came around, I hated the idea of ever having to step inside the tube again, and gave in to buy my own car last year once my role became more permanent with the Women’s team, and especially Manchester's Hundred Team.

Though it did give me uninterrupted reading time, which between my uni work, and job felt rarer than affordable rent. So, at least there was that tiny advantage.

My phone buzzed against the bedside table again.

Another notification.

Another headline about Rihaan’s bold move.

I resisted the overwhelming urge to throw the device directly into the Thames, and forced myself into my bathroom to get ready for my first day. Somehow, by the time I’d finished, my mood had curdled even further, sinking past irritation into something heavier and more hopeless.

By the time I walked back out, though, I wasn’t met with just my best friend sipping on her coffee, like she usually did every morning—but her old friend, Ishaan Patel.

While spread across the counter sat an assortment of my favourite things from my Tales & Lattes. Pastries still warm in their paper bags, and three steaming coffees sending curls of heat into the freezing January air of the flat. The smell alone felt like someone trying to stitch my unravelling mood back together with caffeine and sugar.

My best friend must have seen the news earlier that morning and decided I was one emotional inconvenience away from a full systems failure before my first day.

“Did you teleport yourself to Mayfair and back?” I grumbled, walking towards them, still not ready to let go of the irritation that settled deep inside me.

Told you, I liked holding grudges.

“No,” Samyra replied, amusement flickering beneath the edge of care in her tone. “Ishaan was on his way, and I politely asked him to make a pit stop. For your sake.”

Ishaan and Samyra had been friends since grammar school, despite him being a year younger than her. Somehow, the friendship had survived awkward teenage years, university applications, terrible haircuts, and Ishaan’s painfully obvious crush on her.

Well, obvious to me, anyway. From the first time I’d met him, I’d been fairly certain Ishaan had a crush on her. Samyra, however, had never let on whether she noticed, and I wasn’t about to bring it up just to make their friendship awkward. Because unfortunately for him, one thing I was absolutely certain about was that she viewed him with the same fondness she would reserve for her younger brothers, if she had any.

Love and Samyra existed on completely different train tracks, always running parallel, never quite crossing.

“How come you’re here this early?” I asked quickly, deflecting before my best friend could poke at me the way her expression suggested she wanted to. “I thought Mondays were basically reserved for spending the day with your parents.”

“Just my Dad,” He corrected, his voice strained before he forced himself to clear his throat. Before I could pause and wonder what that was about, he promptly added. “I’m on my way, I just was stopping to drop by my proposal for Samyra,” He pointed to the folder that sat in front of her.

I nodded, giving him a smile as he pushed himself up. “Thanks for these. I owe you.”

He smiled back, some of the tension easing from his expression. “I’m happy to collect now if you can convince this one,” he said, pointing accusingly at Samyra, “to actually look at my proposal and get on board.”

Curiosity sparked instantly inside me. “You got it,” I said with an eager nod.

Ishaan looked at Samyra then, and something unspoken passed between them in the quiet beat that followed. One of those entire-conversation-inside-a-glance moments that always made me feel like I’d walked into the middle of a scene without a script. I turned around, giving them whatever privacy I could in the small space as I grabbed the yogurt and cream cheese out the fridge.

From the corner of my eyes, I noticed Samyra’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly before she waved him off with a sigh. “Just go. You’re gonna miss your train.”

He sighed, shaking his head, and walked to the front door. He gave me a small smile. “Good luck for your first day.”

“Thank you!” I replied back, turning around to face my best friend.

The second the door shut, Samyra reached for one of the fresh bagels, splitting it open with mechanical efficiency before slathering the cream cheese I’d placed on the counter. “You want one too?”

Naturally, I ignored her attempt to distract me and reached for the folder.

“What exactly am I convincing you to approve?” I asked, flipping it open before she could stop me.