Page 22 of Don't Be in Love

Being around James was easy. Settling into hishellosand listening to his melodic voice was easy. We only talked once a week, but it was never not full of laughs.

I knew about the books he was in the middle of reading, how he made his tea, his plan to work in publishing after university, how Dorian had dared him to dye his hair platinum years ago and hadn’t stopped since. I even knew the chips he brought to campus every day.

“Chip?” I angled the bag of elbow macaroni-shaped chips toward him.

“Crisp,” he corrected me, putting his hand in the bag. “You’re starting to sound like a tourist.”

Brina leaned over Mia to grab a chip. “I’ve tried, she’s hopeless,” she added on.

“We’re going to add that to the list of things you need to work on. Townsen traditions first.” He took another chip. “You must be going Saturday.” He looked to Brina, but her eyes were wide with confusion. “Unless you’re new to Townsen too …” He hesitated.

“No, I just tend to avoid social gatherings.” She smiled awkwardly.

“Free food guys, comeon,” he said it like it pained him. “It’s my favorite event, you’re all coming then.” He nudged my shoulder as if to threaten me, but it only made me laugh.

An echo ofShhhsended our conversation. The gray screen at the front of the lawn sparked to life singing “Big Girls Don’t Cry” as a car flew down the highway.

The sky’s deep pink glow quickly shifted to a midnight blue. My head fell back. The one thing I missed that London couldn’t offer was the stars. My mom used to look out the kitchen window after cooking dinner to point out the constellations in the sky.She had an easier time remembering the stars than the street names in town.

“Addy.”

I flicked my gaze to Sabrina. She gestured for me to lean over behind Mia.

“I didn’t realize that the James in your class was James Breyer,” she whispered with wide eyes.

I stared at her, waiting for what that was supposed to mean.

“James Breyer—Dorian Blackwood’s friend!”

My heart lurched. Physically threw itself against my chest as if someone directed a confetti cannon at my eyes. Except this was the worst surprise ever.

“They’re always seen together at pubs and events. Their families even holiday together,” she explained. “They’re practically brothers. It’s well known that he’s Dorian’s closest friend. If James is going Saturday, Dorian might be too. Wehaveto go.”

“I don’t know, I have a lot to get done. Why don’t you and Mia go? I can even help you get ready beforehand. It’ll be like I’m going with you! Getting ready is the best part anyway,” I tried to argue my case. I could not be in the same room as Sabrina and Dorian, at the same time,again. That was like putting a candle in a ballroom with gunpowder and waiting to see who tipped the candle over first. No matter what, the night would end in some type of bonfire.

“You have to come; you never stop working. I missed out on so many of your and Mia’s outings. This is the only time all three of us will be in university together. This could be our only chance,” she pleaded.

There was an anxious puttering in my stomach. It was split in half, pulling me in two different directions. One was urging me to stand my ground and say no. To stay away from Dorian and get my work done.

The other was telling me to please my friend so that she wouldn’t grow to resent me. It was rash. An irresponsible decision. But the idea of letting her down more than I already had made me sick. I didn’t have anyone else.

So I said, “Alright.”

10

Don’t Get Competitive — Dorian

“Summer away make you rusty?” James asked as he hit the ball to my side of the court. “They do have tennis courts abroad.”

The force of the ball hitting my racket went up my arm and down my torso as I hit it back to his side.

“Oh really?” I winked as I watched it sail past him satisfyingly. His racket slumped at his side.

“I stand corrected.” He jogged to the fence where the courts divided us from the students practicing on the football fields.

We used to play tennis in secondary school and even during sixth form. We probably could’ve played on the university team, but James had no interest. He was more dedicated to a career in journalism, and it wouldn’t be worth playing if he wasn’t there. We had to fight for time to play between my trips abroad, his coursework, and now, the jacket-wearing weather the autumn would bring in the coming weeks.

He grabbed the ball and bounced it off the court before tossing it high and thwacking it to my side. Thewhackechoed through the acres, behind the academic buildings. I waited for the ball to bounce off the ground before I took a few quick steps backward to slice my racket under it and send it back him.