Page 15 of Sugar

My Jeep was a lot more fun than her SUV, but it didn’t have a ton of room. Getting all my boxes inhadtaken some maneuvering, but it was done.

Except for those remaining few things.

I waved her away. “It’ll take like ten minutes in the morning. Fifteen tops. And if it takes longer, that’s fine. It’ll give you guys time to get settled into your places before you have to help me unpack.”

She gave a forced apologetic smile. “Oof, sorry. I’m not available. I have to take my fish for a walk.”

“Your fish lives with me.”

“I have to vacuum my front lawn.”

“The building doesn’t have a lawn.”

“My chia pet needs a ride to the airport.”

I rolled my eyes since her nor her poison thumb would be able to grow a chia pet if all the work had been done for her. “What kind of friend are you?”

“The kind who is smart enough to lock my door when you come crying for slacker help.”

We’d been close our entire lives. And unlike a lot of friendships, we’d never had a falling out. No period where two of us were closer, leaving the third to feel excluded. No growing apart or cliché jealousy. Not that we didn’t disagree. We did. But we valued what we had enough to work through it. We knew that kind of loyal friendship was rare.

And that deep love and appreciation was exactly why the three of us had never—and would never—live together. Because we also knew that we would drive one another insane in less than a month.

Instead, we opted for separate apartments in the same off-campus housing building. Close, but with our own space.

Greer must’ve just caught the tail end of the conversation because she turned in Josh’s hold to gape at me. “You’re not packed?”

I didn’t torture her like I did Wren. Greer would cancel the movie and speed off into the night for my house—a superhero armed with color-coded gadgets.

“I am,” I quickly reassured.

“Mostly,” Wren interjected, very unhelpfully.

At Greer’s exasperated sigh, I crossed my arms. “Not all of us have a love affair with our label maker.”

“I happen to like being able to find things,” she shot back.

“I can find them. Eventually.”

Wren must’ve memorized the schedule because she took the opening to throw me under another bus. “How long did you live out of boxes last year?”

“How long was the first semester?” I asked with an innocent smile.

Greer sputtered her outrage even though I did unpack.

Mostly.

Eventually.

I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “And I can always leave right now to finish packing if that would make you feel better.”

The whole back-and-forth was playful. That I wasn’t fully packed surprised no one. That Greer had her boxes labeled was a safe bet because she’d never met an organizational system she didn’t love.

But at my joking offer to leave our last movie night of the summer, that heaviness that’d been momentarily forgotten pushed in. And not only for me.

Wren pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Much to Josh’s chagrin, Greer dislodged herself from his roaming hold as tears filled her eyes.

There was a somberness to the moment that I wasn’t ready to face.

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