𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐭𝐰𝐨

out in the park,
we watch the sunset,
talking on a rusty swing set
-Phoebe Bridgers

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Summer 2006,

Me and Tenny spent a lot of time together that first summer. We played in the cat-tails near the creek bed. We snuck soda pop out of JD's general store, and sipped on them in the old church yard. We sat on a rusted swing set, and I taught Tenny about pinky promises; I told him it meant he couldn't ever break it. And so, he never did. We ran all over that old town, but we never went to Tenny's house.

We stayed away from mine too.

I think we understood, even then, we had more in common than we cared to share.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

I sip the last drop of Coca-Cola from my glass.

We are sat at Tipper's diner, me beside Dalton, and Bailey squished beside Frankie. She made Khalil pull up a chair, claiming that he loved odd numbers.

Bailey drags a limp french-fry through a puddle of ketchup. "So, this is where everybody hangs out?" he asks, and the four of us nod. Tipper's diner is a total dive. The floor is always sticky, and the service is poor, but they have air conditioning and cheap food, so we keep coming back. "Cool. Are you all from around here?"

"I'm from Tuscaloosa," Dalton says. "Violet's the only one who actually grew up around here, right?"

"Uh, yeah," I say. "I'm from River Bend, it's almost an hour drive east."

"River Bend?" he repeats, and that's when I realize my mistake. "That's where Tens is from...or I think that's what he said..."

"Really?" Dalton wrinkles his nose. "Do you know him? It's not a big place, is it?"

"I guess he is a few years younger," Bailey interjects, and I shrug.

"We must've ran in different circles." There's no reason to lie. And yet, that's what tumbles out. Second nature, maybe. I open my mouth and lies come out. It's all I know how to do, apparently. Lie.

"Well, Violet is a total lame-0," Frankie says. "Did you even have friends in school, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes?" I throw my straw wrapper at her plate. She sticks out her tongue.

"I like my goody-two-shoes," says Dalton, and he puts his arm around my shoulder. I nestle into his side, but I don't relax. Because that's another lie I entangled myself in. Violet, the goody-two-shoes. I wonder if he'd still like me if he knew the truth: that before I met him, Violet and good rarely found themselves in the same sentence.

"You two make me sick," Khalil groans.

"You never could stand to see a couple happy," Frankie accuses, and I have to cover my smile with the palm of my hand. She turns her attention to Bailey, clamping a hand onto his knee. "I think you and me will get along fine, though. You got a girlfriend, Bailey? Oh, please say that you don't." She lays her head onto his shoulder.