Page 66 of Never Not Friends

“Hey.” Blair studies me with her dark eyes. “Are you okay? You seem flustered.”

Flustered? If only. No, I’m spiraling in the most unhinged way.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I shove a bite of cake into my mouth, hoping the chewing hides the chaos written on my face.

“Oh my gosh, you guys,” Juliet says in her signature bubbly voice as she grabs her phone. “While looking for pictures for our wedding video, I found the funniest thing.” She grabs the remote and turns on the TV. “Here, I’ll cast it for you guys to see.” Her eyes swing to me, bright and unsuspecting. “Emma, you are going to die.”

Oh, good.

Love that for me.

Because nothing good has ever followed that sentence.

My brows drop, a slow sense of dread creeping in. I force a small smile, like I’m not already planning my escape route through the nearest window.

“Jules, not everybody wants to see pictures of us,” Vinny says.

I glance at him.

His apologetic smile is etched onto his face—tight, quick, the kind he gives when he’s trying to soften something Juliet’s doing that embarrasses him.

“Oh, stop.” Juliet waves him off. “It’s not pictures of us. Trust me, everyone will think this is hilarious—even you.”

The TV lights up with Juliet’s phone, and we all shift our gazes to the screen, waiting.

My breath holds.

And then my face appears on the television.

I physically flinch.

I’m about fifteen—not my best season of life.

The rest of the friends fill the screen too, frozen in low-resolution nostalgia. We’re awkward, overconfident, still figuring out our hair and push-up bras.

“Wow, you guys look so different,” Hess says, already laughing.

Nate joins in. “Carly has bangs?”

“It was a very impulsive decision,” she defends.

Juliet motions for them to be quiet, practically bouncing. “Just wait. Just wait. It gets better once the video starts.”

No, I don’t like that tone. It usually means one of us is going to be publicly humiliated.

Everyone quiets down, and Juliet presses play.

I lean back slightly, like distance might somehow protect me.

It doesn’t.

I don’t remember this moment, but it looks like we’re all at a sleepover at Juliet’s house. I recognize the leather couch from her basement and my pink-and-white-striped pajamas. “Story of My Life” plays loudly in the background. We’re all dancing and being ridiculous.

Carefree.

Unaware that this moment will play to our future selves.

And then Juliet’s voice cuts through the speakers as she swings the camera toward me.