CHAPTER TWO ~ ABBY ~ SIXTEEN YEARS AGO
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I say as Drew and I approach the old K&P Railway Station.
“It’s going to be great,” she says as she scans the crowds on the sidewalk. “Brent is a sweetheart, and I’m sure his friend is too. It’s not like this is a set-up or anything. You guys are just...buffers.”
Someone knocks into me as they rush past, throwing an apology over their shoulder.
It’s mid-September, and the streets of downtown Kingston are still as packed as they were in the summer.
While the crowds through July and August were largely made up of tourists, the college and university students descended on the city a few weeks ago, which somehow changed the atmosphere.
The sound of loud voices and laughter mingle with the Ontario Street traffic noise on one side and the shrill cries of seagulls on the other.
“Buffers,” I repeat.
“Yeah. Like I said, no pressure, no expectations. Brent said he made that clear to his friend too.”
Drew met Brent on our first day back at Queen’s.
She told Fern and me about him that night as we ate Kraft Dinner at the kitchen table of our new student house, and has brought him up countless times in the two weeks since.
She claimed she had an out-of-body experience when he finally asked her out, which led to her telling him she wasn’t interested in dating right now.
Apparently, she had mentioned me a few times, so Brent suggested we do something casual as a group, and Drew agreed.
That’s how we’ve ended up downtown on a Saturday evening with what feels like half the population of Kingston.
Drew’s face breaks into a smile as she waves at someone up ahead. I let out a bewildered laugh when she steps in front of me, causing me to stop so abruptly I knock into her.
“What are you—”
“Best friend rules apply tonight, same as always,” she says, gripping my upper arms to steady me. “If you’re uncomfortable or miserable at any point, say the word, and we’re out of there. I’ll make our excuses, and we’ll go home and have a movie night, no questions asked. Got it?”
I swallow hard, bobbing my head when Drew looks at me expectantly.
Growing up in foster care, Drew and I often felt trapped and as if everything was out of our control.
When we moved to Kingston last year for university, we promised each other we’d do our best to never let the other feel that way again. “Got it.”
“Good.” She takes my hand and leads me toward the two guys waiting a few feet away. She greets the shorter of the pair with a hug, while his friend and I exchange awkward smiles.
“Brent, this is my best friend Abby,” Drew says.
Brent offers me his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Abby.” He’s ridiculously good-looking, with glossy black hair, high cheekbones, and dark brown eyes. “This is my friend Brodie.”
“Hiya, Abby, it’s nice to meet you,” Brodie says, surprising me with a Scottish accent.
It sends a wash of nostalgia through me, reminding me of my grandmother and her accent that never faded, despite decades of living in Canada.
Brodie’s handshake is firm, and his sweet smile puts me at ease.
He’s tall and slim, with a gangliness I’ve noticed in a lot of guys our age.
Between that and the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones, there’s something adorably boyish about him.
He greets Drew next, and then the four of us set off down the street. The crowded sidewalks force us to pair off, with Brent and Drew walking ahead of us. They fall into a conversation immediately, their heads bent close.
I dart a glance in Brodie’s direction to find him already looking at me. The golden-hour light catches in his hair, highlighting strands of deep red among the brown. Man, he’s cute.
“Small talk is something I haven’t quite mastered yet,” he says with a rueful smile.
“It’s the worst, isn’t it?” I ask. “Why don’t I start? What part of Scotland are you from?”
His eyes brighten. “Can I start by saying I’m relieved you know I’m from Scotland? You wouldn’t believe the number of people who’ve asked me what Ireland is like.”
I laugh. “My grandma was Scottish, so I’m probably more familiar with the accent than a lot of people around here.”
“Ahh, makes sense,” he says. “I grew up on the Isle of Skye, but my family spent a lot of time in Edinburgh. What part of Scotland was your gran from?”
“She lived in Edinburgh for years before coming to Canada, but she was originally from Callander.”
“Lovely wee place,” he says. I suppress a grin at his use of ‘wee’. “Have you been to Scotland?”
“Not yet, but it’s at the top of my bucket list.”
Up ahead, Drew and Brent pause for us to catch up to them. Brent suggests we have dinner in a nearby pub that’s popular with university students.
“It’s an Irish pub, so you’ll feel right at home,” I say to Brodie when we start walking again. His laugh draws Drew’s attention, and she grins as she glances between us.
The pub is noisy and crowded, as expected, but the conversation flows easily between the four of us.
I learn that Brent and Brodie met last year during Frosh Week, and that Brent is majoring in civil engineering, while Brodie’s focus is business studies.
We tell them about the fun we had running around the city this summer, and how it’s been an adjustment going from dorm life to living in a rental house with Fern and an Italian girl named Paola, who keeps mostly to herself.
Brodie is sweet, funny, and smart, and I’m not the only one who seems to notice.
Throughout the evening, I catch Drew looking at him with a curious light in her eyes.
She even blushes more than once under his attention, and I don’t remember ever seeing my best friend blush before.
I also can’t help noticing the way Brodie’s gaze lingers on Drew or the small smile he wears while she’s speaking.
When we’ve finished eating, Brent excuses himself to use the washroom.
Drew and Brodie fall into an animated conversation about Doctor Who and how they felt about David Tennant leaving earlier this year and being replaced by Matt Smith.
I sit back in my seat and watch in amused silence as I sip my cider.
Neither of them notice when Brent returns to the table. He hovers beside his chair for a moment, looking between them. As he slides into his seat, he meets my eyes and offers me a resigned half smile.
“I think the wrong two people are on a date tonight,” he says without any preamble.
“What do you mean?” Drew asks at the same time as Brodie says, “I have to agree.”
Drew is silent for a few beats before she breaks into delighted laughter. I echo it as I pat Brodie on the shoulder, impressed that he didn’t beat around the bush. I shoot Brent a sympathetic smile, and he gives a one-shouldered shrug as if to say ‘what are you gonna do?’
Brent offers to walk me home so Drew and Brodie can have some time alone, but Drew suggests the four of us get ice cream down the street and hang out for a bit longer.
Despite the noise in the pub, I’m highly attuned to Drew, so I don’t miss her quiet apology to Brent as he helps her into the cardigan she discarded partway through dinner.
“No hard feelings,” Brent says. “Brodie’s the best person I know.”
Brodie shifts at my side, drawing my attention. “I know we were sort of just along for the ride tonight and not on a date, but I hope you don’t think I’m awful.”
Something tells me I could never think of Brodie as awful, but I hesitate to admit that to someone I’ve just met.
Especially when that someone is interested in the person I love most in the world.
“How about I reserve judgement until we see how things progress between you and Drew?” I suggest, pleased with the way his face relaxes.
“Do I need to give you the speech about ‘if you hurt her...’ et cetera, et cetera?”
He chuckles. “Let’s say you did, and I promise to bear it in mind.”
When the four of us walk home a while later, our positions from earlier are reversed: Drew and Brodie walk in front, with Brent and me following a few feet behind.
The two of them move closer together until their shoulders brush as they walk.
If they weren’t both holding cups of ice cream, I have a feeling they’d be holding hands.
Part of me wishes I were attracted to Brent, especially considering he’s quite possibly the most emotionally mature guy I’ve ever met. Despite that, there’s no spark between us. Hopefully we can at least be friends, especially if Drew and Brodie start dating.
When we reach our house, it’s obvious the two lovebirds aren’t ready to say good night, so I invite Brent inside to hang out.
He thanks me, but says he’s going to head home since they just live two streets down from us.
As he hugs Drew goodbye, they have a murmured conversation I do my best not to eavesdrop on.
Brent surprises me with a hug after Drew and Brodie move off to sit on the porch. “Save me a dance at their wedding, will you?” he asks as he pulls away. “I assume I’ll be the best man and you’ll be the maid of honour.”
“Naturally,” I agree. “How do you feel about a choreographed entrance dance with all the attendants?”
He lets out a long, low laugh. “I’ll start putting together a list of songs to run by you. Good night, Abby.” He kisses my cheek and walks away.
Inside the house, I find Fern stretched out on the couch, surrounded by balls of yarn.
Crocheting is her latest hobby in a long line of hobbies.
Before that, it was pottery, and before that, it was scrapbooking.
Despite a rocky start filled with a lot of frustrated, colourful swearing, she’s developed a knack for crocheting and has made a variety of hats, scarves, and even little animals.
“Hey, girly,” she says when she sees me. “How was the group date?”
“Oh, you know, the usual: cute boys, dinner, ice cream. Pretty sure Drew met her soulmate tonight.”
Fern drops the ball of bright blue yarn in her hands, and it rolls across the floor. “Come again?”
I explain what happened, then add, “Drew and Brodie are outside now. They weren’t ready to call it a night.”
“I have to see this!” She jumps off the couch and dashes out of the room. I follow, half expecting her to be at the front door, ready to burst outside, but she’s at the window overlooking the porch.
I peek over her shoulder. It takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the dark.
When they do, I see Drew and Brodie crowded into the largest of the three outdoor chairs.
He’s got an arm around her shoulders and is playing with her hair, while one of her hands rests on the centre of his chest. I can hear the low hum of Brodie’s deep voice through the old windows, followed by Drew’s laugh.
The scene causes a wistful sigh to escape me. Fern gives me a questioning look, but before she can say anything, I wrap my arm around her and steer her back toward the living room. “Why don’t you show me your latest creation?”