“Just chilling out, I guess.” I shrug and slump further back into the couch. Out of the corner of my eye, Tyler’s tossing the new burnt slices of toast into the trash. “How’s everything over there?”
Dean rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Rachael’s having a mental breakdown because her hair stylist cut off too much of her hair or something like that and so now she’s refusing to leave her house, Meghan gets back from Europe next week, Tiffani’s pretty much living on the beach because she’s convinced herself that the sand here is better than it is in Santa Barbara, some new kid has started at my dad’s garage and he has no idea what a wrench is, my mom says she misses having you over for dinner, and my dad says hey. I think that’s pretty much it.” He exhales, laughing. It sounds odd hearing his laugh rather than Tyler’s for once. It feels even weirder seeing his dark eyes when I’m so used to the emerald of Tyler’s. “Hey, what are you doing for the Fourth of July tomorrow?”
I throw Tyler a glance. His arms are folded across the kitchen worktop as he leans forward, a knowing smirk on his lips. July Fourth will always bring back memories. Tomorrow, it’ll be exactly two years since I realized I liked Tyler in the one way I shouldn’t. Tomorrow, it’ll be two years since we got arrested for trespassing. I don’t even remember celebrating our nation’s freedom that night. I just remember feeling the most confused I’ve ever been in my entire life.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shift my eyes back to Dean. He’s smiling at me. “We haven’t decided yet,” I say, my throat dry. “Tyler wants us to stay in New York, but his roommate wants us to go to Boston. Either way, it’s gonna end up being fireworks over a river. They’ll probably have to flip a coin or something. You?”
“I think we’re gonna check out the display at Marina del Rey.”
I’d reply to him, but I’m suddenly distracted as the video quality adjusts, becoming sharper and much less pixelated. I squint at his jaw. “Is that . . . Is that stubble I’m seeing?”
“Maybe.” Sheepishly, he rubs at his chin and dramatically smolders his eyes at me through the screen. “I thought I’d quit shaving for the summer. I know you don’t like it, but you’re not here, so what the hell?”
My eyes are drawn to Tyler again. He’s raising his eyebrows at me as he touches his own jaw, pointing out his own stubble. His smirk has yet to leave his lips.
I fire him a look that makes it clear I don’t appreciate his distractions right now, especially while I’m trying to talk to Dean. I mute the call for a sec, tell him, “I like it on you,” and then move my gaze back to my boyfriend.
“Hey, I think you cut off for a sec,” Dean says, furrowing his eyebrows back at me from three thousand miles away. “What’d you say?”
“Nothing, I was talking to Tyler,” I fire back. The moment I say it, I’m regretting my words. I shouldn’t have mentioned that Tyler’s here. Over in the kitchen, Tyler has shot upright as he glares at me.
“He’s there?” Dean asks. His face seems to light up again. I knew I shouldn’t have told him. He raises his voice louder and says, “Hey, man, come over.” He’s not talking to me. He’s talking to Tyler, who’s shaking his head in refusal from the opposite side of the apartment.
“Uhh, one sec,” I blurt. This time, I pause both the camera and the microphone and spin around to face Tyler, desperate. “Okay, I know I shouldn’t have said that you were here, but please just come talk to him for a second.”
“No,” Tyler says firmly, using hand movements for emphasis. “No way in hell. No, no, no.”
“Pleeeeeease,” I beg. My eyes crinkle at the corners and I purse my lips at him. “If you don’t, he’s gonna wonder why you’re being such a jackass. You’re his best friend, remember? Act normal.”
“Eden, in case you forgot, I’m the guy his girlfriend is cheating on him with,” Tyler murmurs as he rubs at his temples. With a sharp look, he adds, “I’m not talking to him.”
Groaning, I turn back to my phone and resume the video call. Dean’s waiting patiently. “He can’t talk right now,” I lie. “He’s naked.”
“Naked?” Dean looks at me with an odd expression, and Tyler throws his hands up in exasperation.
“I mean,” I splutter, “he’s getting changed. In the other room. Not here.”
My awkward babbling must be worse to Tyler than the idea of talking to Dean, because he comes striding over from the kitchen and grabs my phone straight out of my hand. He holds it up in front of him, a smile plastered upon his lips. “Hey, bro. Sorry, was pulling on a shirt. What’s up?”
I stare up at Tyler in surprise from the couch as I hear Dean say, “Man! Haven’t seen you in forever! I’m great. Missing Eden a hell of a lot, though.”