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“Of course. I’ve never seen you be that weird before, and I saw you dress up in full Renaissance Faire garb for decades day, claiming that no one specified which century.” Kevin laughed and messed with June’s curls. “I love you, June. But here’s the reality - you hate your job, you love Colin, and you’re going to have to find a way to make that all work out.”
June finished her beer and played with the glass in her hands, tossing it from one hand to the other, contemplating what Kevin had said. Those were two truths and they weren’t easy to swallow, but they sounded so simple when he put them so starkly. Kevin was on his phone, his thumbs rapidly tapping out a text message before he switched to scrolling through social media, pointedly ignoring June. With a muttered phrase about annoying best friends who fell in love and then helped everyone else do it, she pulled out her phone from her bag and scrolled to Phoebe’s number.
June: Hi. This is a long-delayed text message. It’s June - we met at camp a few weeks ago? Would you like to meet up and get a drink or coffee?
Phoebe: Hey! Of course! I was wondering if you were going to text me! Kevin just said you were going to.
June: That sounds like him. What days work for you?
Phoebe: I work my second job tomorrow morning, but I could meet up for an afternoon beer.
June: That sounds good. Where do you want to go?
Phoebe: Do you know the bar by campus, Next Door? We can go there! It’s our usual post-work hangout.
June: No but I’ll google it.
Phoebe: They don’t have a website. I’ll text you the address tomorrow.
June: Thanks.
June set her phone down and turned to Colin. “I’m meeting up with Phoebe tomorrow.”
“I know,” he said, turning his phone to June and grinning. He showed a series of text messages back and forth between him and Phoebe.
“You’re a menace.”
“You love me.”
“Ugh.”
