Page 3 of Tequila Lime and Sunshine

“Uh, we’re landing,” an unfamiliar female voice informs me. I open my eyes and see that I’ve been sleeping on the shoulder of the woman next to me.

I take my time to straighten up, offering her what I’ve been told is my infamous crooked smile. “I’d say I’m sorry, but you’re pretty comfortable.”

Her cheeks blush. “Oh, uh, thanks.”

She’s cute, and if I were on this trip for any reason other than to hang out with my parents, I’d probably ask for her number and take her out. But as it is, I’m here for today only before I, hopefully, fly to Mexico with my family tomorrow. I still have to worry about booking flights to Mexico and the whole hotel room thing—surely that won’t be too much of an issue—so I let the woman pack her things without any more shameless flirting from me.

I’m starving by the time we land and deplane, so the first order of business is to grab a giant coffee and the biggest pastry I can find. I head to the front of the airport and wait for the car service to pick me up. There’s no way I was renting a car for less than twenty-four hours.

I pull up to my parents’ house, and it looks the same as always: perfectly mowed lawn, basketball hoop in the driveway, even though Holden and I haven’t lived at home for at least six years now, red front door because my mom loves a red door, and the sign propped up on the side of the front door that says Welcome—a staple in suburban neighborhoods like this.

I grab my suitcase and make my way to that red front door. I knock but quickly open the door before anyone inside can open it. “Mom? Dad?” I call out into the house.

The first thing I hear is Mom’s screech, which makes me smile. The overnight flight was worth it just for that. “Hawke? Is that you, honey?” She walks out of the kitchen with her arms open for a hug.

“Surprise!” I pick her up and spin her around.

“What are you doing here?” she asks with a laugh once I set her back down.

“My schedule opened up for the next two weeks, and there’s somewhere important for me to be.”

“Aw, honey, I’m so glad you’re here. It wasn’t going to be the same without you.”

My dad comes down the stairs to greet me, and then we mosey into the kitchen, where I mention how hungry I am. She instantly starts making me some lunch. Holden and I have one of those moms that was put on this planet to be a mom. She’s the absolute best. We got to do any activity we seemed interested in, and she always cheered, even if we sucked. From volunteering at our schools to being there to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner because she said her boys deserved the best, she spoiled the shit out of us. But we also got the best childhood we could’ve asked for.

I’d say we turned out ok. Holden is a structural engineer in Birmingham, and I’ve made a name for myself in fashion photography in LA. I know we’re only where we are because of our parents’ undying belief in us. So, of course, it feels right to be here for their big day.

Once I’m seated with my lunch, I pull up the airline app on my phone. They tell me their info, and miraculously, there’s exactly one seat left on the flight. Thank you, luck.

After I’ve showered and napped, Mom asks me to walk down to the Leonard’s with her. I can’t say no to her, so we go three houses down. This house feels like summertime. First of all, it’s yellow, for God’s sake. But I have so many memories of Holden and me running up to the front door, asking if Summer could play. The three of us were thick as thieves until Holden decided he wanted to be more than friends with her. It changed everything. I wish he had talked to me about it first. I would’ve told him. . . well, I would’ve told him a lot of things. Maybe asked him not to. But that would’ve been selfish of me. So instead, I stayed back and watched our friendship crumble. Watched our summer memories fade away.

Mom knocks on the door but quickly lets herself in. We’re met with the sweet scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Summer’s favorite.

My eyes drop to the hot pink suitcase by the front door, so I know she’s here. A slow smile spreads across my face. It’s been at least a year since I’ve seen her, and even then, she kept her distance.

“Summer!” my mom calls when we step into their kitchen. Sure enough, Summer is at the counter, a cookie in hand. The next moments feel like slow motion. She spins on her stool, and a smile breaks out on her face. She’s so naturally beautiful with big, chocolate-colored curls that always seem to bounce with every move she makes, blue eyes that give away every emotion she’s feeling, and a perfect heart-shaped mouth that always has a smile on it. . . except when she looks at me.

Case in point, after she hugs my mom, she looks at me with pure annoyance.

“Hey there, Sunshine.” It surprises me how easily the nickname I gave her so many years ago comes out. I offer her my crooked smile, but she might be the one woman who’s immune to me.

“Hawke,” she says. Her voice is noticeably missing the genuine happiness it had when she greeted my mom. “I didn’t think you were coming.” I do my best to ignore the disappointment in her voice because it stings.

“Lucky for you, my schedule opened up.” I play it cool like always. Cool, calm, and collected Hawke Wilson. Not bothered by anyone or anything. That’s the reputation I’ve gained for myself.

“Yay. . . lucky me.” Our moms are already lost in conversation and completely oblivious to this interaction. I’m pretty sure our parents think we’re all still best friends, which is the opposite of the truth because the woman in front of me can’t fucking stand me. I don’t know when it happened or why it happened, for that matter. All I know is that one day, she started looking at me differently. She started making snarky comments. And eventually, we all drifted apart. I pretended like it didn’t bother me. She was my brother’s girlfriend. I didn’t want to start anything. But losing her friendship was one of the hardest things I’ve had to go through.

“How’ve you been, Sunshine?” Although it bothers me that she isn’t a fan of mine anymore, I refuse to let her see it.

“Good.” She sighs, telling me something isn’t good, but she doesn’t want to talk about it. I’m not in a position to press her for details. “How about you?”

“Just living the LA dream.” I throw my arm around her shoulder and turn her toward our moms. She still smells like coconuts, bringing back memories of camping in the backyard and riding our bikes through the neighborhood during the summer. Her scent was always my favorite.

“Hawke, honey, do you want a cookie? They’re fresh from the oven,” Denise, Summer’s mom, offers.

I pull Summer in tighter to my side. “I’d love one. Thank you.”

Summer pinches my ribs as I grab a cookie, forcing me to release her. “Don’t waste all my cookies on this guy.”