Page 21 of Friends to Lovers

chapter fourteen

Leo sends a text to everyone to meet in the yard at sunset, and to wear all black.

“Do you think this will work?” I ask, holding up a navy blue tank top I usually wear to Pilates. I brought black leggings, shorts, but somehow, nary a black shirt made it into my suitcase in my haste to pack and get the hell out of New York.

Ren looks up from where he’s tying the laces on a pair of black Vans, all in on the dress code. He gestures at his black hoodie hanging on the last hook above the dresser. “You can wear that.”

“Thanks,” I say, stacking it on top of my folded leggings. “I’ll go change.”

“I’m done.” Ren straightens from the edge of his bed. “I can stand guard?”

I nod. People have a fun habit of using the screen porch as a shortcut from the front yard into the house, often without knocking.

I lock the doors into the mudroom while Ren steps out into the yard. We’ve already closed the curtains, but I can see his shoulder through a tiny slit as he leans against the door frame. We used to do this for each other all the time, talking through the door before swapping places.

“When’s the last time you played capture the flag?” I call as I slip off my shorts. I kick them over to the dresser, then reconsider, bending down to retrieve them and stuffing them into a drawer instead.

“Maybe sometime in high school?” Ren says. “But I honestly couldn’t tell you.”

“It’s one of those games you’re just kind of born knowing how to play, isn’t it?” I pull on my leggings. “Did we ever play together?”

“We were notorious for joining in on social activities in high school,” Ren says.

“ You were a joiner.” I tug his sweatshirt on over my tank top, something sparking in my chest at the familiar smell of it.

“I was on a couple teams,” Ren says. “There’s a difference.”

I grab my sneakers and tap on the door. Ren shifts away and I push out into the cool night air, sit on the steps to put my shoes on.

“Okay, but lots of people wanted to be your friend,” I say.

It’s a skill I envied, his ability to make people feel at ease.

Ren could navigate any crowd, whereas I tended to stick to people I already knew.

He sits down next to me, arm brushing against mine. “That doesn’t mean I liked everyone.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that everyone liked you,” I say, hooking a finger into the heel of my sneaker so I don’t have to untie the laces. “You could have been prom king if you didn’t spend so much time with grouchy old me.”

“Please never suggest that again,” Ren says, a smile lifting his cheeks as he looks out at the darkening sky.

“The prom king part?”

He glances back down at me. “All of it.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, but it doesn’t stop the smile that grows.

Headlights come through the trees, Leo’s brother, Oliver, and bandmates arriving for the game.

Ren stands, holds a hand out toward me. His fingers settle against the underside of my wrist as I take it, his eyes locking onto mine at the contact as he pulls me up to standing.

Leo bursts out onto the front porch a few feet away.

He catches sight of us, raises his fists in the air and shouts, “Who’s ready?

” just as his brother leaps out of the car, whooping and carrying on like we really are at a sporting event.

Ren grins back at me, something so boyish in it I’m dropped right back into so many similar moments when we were kids up here and he was excited to boogie board with Thad or fly a kite on the beach with Sasha, then he runs over to greet the band.

He’s the one who signed them to Sublimity, and I know through Stevie’s grapevine that he’s become good friends with them over the last couple years.

It’s been a sore spot, the continuation of this world I was no longer a part of.

I wanted, more than anything, for Ren to be happy, to get everything he deserved.

But now there’s a whole world I’m only tangentially connected to, as Stevie’s sister.

“Seems like you two made up.” I jump, my hand flying to my chest, and turn to find Stevie, who’s crept up behind me. She’s holding a grocery bag, her eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, we had a lot of time to talk after someone left us to set up tables for a hundred wedding guests,” I say.

“Sorry about that.” She bumps her hip against mine before leaning her head on my shoulder, watching as Ren and Leo laugh with the band, all of them huddled together and bouncing around like a group of overgrown teenagers. I feel the pinch again, of how much I’ve missed.

“It’s just because we all live in Portland,” Stevie says, reading my mind.

“Yeah, I know,” I say. Location isn’t the only thing that matters to a friendship, but I know she’s trying to make me feel better.

“Hey.” I jostle my shoulder. Something has been nagging at me since I learned about Ren and Amanda’s breakup.

That Stevie, in all likelihood, had to have known, and didn’t tell me.

But when she looks up at me, eyes the same green as mine, I can’t bring myself to ask.

Can’t open a can of worms that could make her wedding week anything less than perfect.

I loop an arm around her instead, draw her in closer, like if I hang on tight enough, I might prolong all the good of this week. “Never mind.”

* * *

“The rules are simple,” Leo says.

We’ve all convened around the firepit my dad had installed on the back patio a few years ago.

It’s unlit, and Leo stands on the concrete edge, hands on his hips.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon, the last stretches of light across the sky making it seem like we’re about to embark on some Goonies -style adventure where anything is possible.

“I think we’ve all played capture the flag before,” Sasha says. “Can we just choose teams?”

“I want to hear the rules!” I call. Deep down, despite everyone treating me normally, I can still feel myself searching for that opportunity to be part of things like before, to establish myself in this group.

Leo grins and proceeds to explain rules that, yes, we all probably know. But his energy is infectious, and even Sasha is smiling by the time he’s done.

“First team to get the other team’s flag and make it back to their base camp wins.

If you get tagged by someone on the opposite team, you’re sent to jail, and have to be tagged out by your own team member.

Blue team’s camp and jail is here,” Leo says, waving a hand at the patio.

“Red team’s is the old swing set at the top of the yard.

Blue’s flag is on a tree at the bottom edge of the side yard. Red’s is at the top.”

Stevie holds out her bag, filled with red and blue bandanas.

“You can use the forest for cover,” she says as we all reach in to grab one, Leo hopping down from his post to make sure no one tries to choose a specific color.

“But no one goes farther than where the path turns toward the lighthouse. We don’t want anyone tumbling into the ocean. ”

“One more thing,” Leo says. “Losing team covers the tab at Clyde’s tomorrow night.” Clyde’s is Stevie’s favorite bar in town and our last stop on their joint bachelor/bachelorette party.

We split into groups, red heading toward one side of the firepit and blue staying on this one.

I bounce on my toes, the sound of the ocean crashing invisibly below racing into my veins.

I’ve never been one for organized competition, hate when people offer me tips for sports I’m already well aware I’m bad at.

But something about the fading light, the anticipation emanating off the others, being back in this place , has me excited.

Ren wanders over with the concentration he used to display before his soccer games in high school.

“Hey, teammate,” I say, holding up my blue bandana as he knots one around his neck.

“No way,” Sasha says, tying her red bandana around her arm like she’s headed into battle. I stop bouncing as she waves a finger between Ren and me. “These two can’t be on a team together.”

“Why not?” Leo asks.

“You weren’t around for the great charades debacle of 2014,” Stevie explains.

“I was not mouthing the answers to Joni,” Ren argues. He’s always been offended by the suggestion we cheated.

“What about the poker fiasco the summer after they graduated high school?” Thad adds. “You hid cards for each other.”

“Or—”

“We get it,” I say, knowing this could go on all night. We didn’t cheat, but they’ll never listen. “Who’s trading?”

“I’ll be on red,” Ren says, reaching up to undo his bandana.

“Hold on,” Thad says. “How do we know that isn’t already the plan?”

Ren narrows his eyes at his brother. “What plan ?” he asks.

“I want Joni,” Stevie interjects. I throw her a confused look. No one ever picks me for games like this. She rolls her eyes. “Unless you’d like to keep discussing this.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “Who am I being traded for?”

The band’s bassist takes my bandana, and I head off with the red team, but not before I glance back to see Thad with one hand on Ren’s shoulder, strategizing with him in a low voice. It sends a small twinge of disappointment through me. I wouldn’t have hated to be on the same team as Ren.

I shake the thought away. We have a game to win.

We all break on Leo’s signal, but the first round is a disaster.

Ren, who also ran track in high school, puts almost half the red team in jail in minutes, darting around the woods near silently, paving the way for Leo to sail over me where I’m supposed to be standing guard at the swing set to steal our flag. Blue wins.

“Look at them,” Sasha says, watching Ren and Leo celebrate after. She squints. “Do they have a secret handshake?”