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When Garrett was done coasting down the aisles on the back of the shopping cart and I was done running around after him (and then pushing him so he yelped and had to jump off to avoid careering into a shelf full of cans) we loaded the groceries back in the car. Garrett had apparently sneaked in several bags of chips without me knowing and he pulled one out, looking triumphant, and settled in to eat them. I coughed pointedly and he handed them over.

“God, sometimes I forget how good Doritos are, you know?” he said, in between blissful chewing.

We were still sat in the parking space, but I crammed a handful into my mouth and almost moaned in agreement.

“So good.”

“I, like, never get to have them anymore. There’s never any chips in the house.”

I turned to pull a horrified face at him and he nodded viciously. “Exactly. It’s like denying humans their rights or something. Rhiannon doesn’t like them so she just doesn’t buy them when she goes out shopping. She’s on a real healthy eating kick.”

“Why? She’s like stick thin anyway.”

“Exactly!” He shoved a few more chips in and together we finished the bag, before Garrett balled it up and shoved it into my glove compartment.

“You better remember to take that out.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Xxx

Garrett leant over my shoulder and frowned. The saucepan I had boiling on the hob was full of thick yellow sauce – supposedly home made cheese sauce for the pasta I was making – but the wooden spoon I was using to stir was quickly collecting the congealing sauce to make a think lumpy mess. I continued to stir it frantically, praying it might miraculously thin out, but of course, it didn’t. It appeared my culinary skills were severely lacking that night.

“Maybe you should add some more milk,” he suggested, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. I threw my wooden spoon down and pushed my elbow backwards instead, colliding straight with Garrett’s stomach. He let out an ‘oof’ of pain but straightened up and chuckled at my exasperated expression.

“It’s not funny!” I cried. There was flour stuck to my clothes, and the sauce was beginning to spit at me. I jumped back as globules went flying towards my face.

Garrett swooped in and grabbed the saucepan off the hob and turned the gas off before more angry sauce droplets could attack us both. He threw the saucepan into the sink and turned the tap on while we both watched the remains of my disaster float down the drain.

“Maybe I should just cook it out of a pack,” I sighed.

Garrett regarded the mess in the sink sadly and nodded. “Yeah, maybe you should, Brands.”

“Oi!” I protested half-heartedly, but I knew Garrett was right. Cooking had never been a particular strength of mine. I sighed and checked my watch. Tayla would be home in about twenty minutes and I had not cooked dinner yet. Excellent.

“Remind me why you’re still here again?”

“To save you from burning down the kitchen and getting caught in the flames?”

“Ha-ha” I replied sarcastically, shutting off the tap and throwing him an eye-roll over my shoulder.

Garrett just grabbed at the tea towel and slung it over his shoulder, trying to look all professional-cook like. “I think the better question is how are we gonna fix this?”

I surveyed the kitchen; the piles of discarded pots and pans, the flour spilt over the counter, the empty milk cartons and cheese, and I shuddered. “Can we just order take-out?”

The tea towel got pulled off his shoulder immediately and Garrett looked relieved, his eyes lighting up. “Heck yeah, I could kill for pizza!”

“Who says you were invited?” I teased, but honestly I was wondering why he wasn’t starting to head back home. Of course Garrett staying was more than fine by me. If I was telling the truth, the last day and a bit was the most amount of we’d spent together for ages, for various reasons – studio time, and yes, his girlfriend, and it made me happy. It was fun to have someone to tease and laugh with. I loved spending time with my girlfriends but Tayla spent a lot of her time talking about her job (which was understandable) and Jess spent a lot of her time talking about Kennedy (which was also understandable seeing as they just moved in together I guessed) and my friends from work were okay in small doses, and basically what I was trying to say is that I missed having Garrett around, his stupid shaggy hair and the easy company. I just missed him. Sure.

Garrett pouted at me. “Aww come on, Brandy. Tayla won’t mind!”

I shoved my phone at him, the number of the local pizza delivery place already pulled up. “I’m joking, I wouldn’t deprive you of pizza Gare. As long as you order.”

He grinned at me, and a second later he’d ordered ham and pineapple (mine & Tayla’s) and pepperoni (his) and was looking extremely pleased with himself.

“Congratulations to the cook,” I told him flatly.

“I try.”

The sound of the front door opening made us both swivel our heads and Tayla tumbled into the hallway, kicking off her heels. She looked in a rush for something, tugging off her light cardigan and dropping her bag at the foot of the stairs.

“Hi Tay,” I called out down the hall. She looked up at my voice and paused for a fraction of a second. Garrett moved into view behind me and waved. “Hiya Tayla.”

“Shoot,” she burst out. “I was meant to have dinner with you, wasn’t I?”

“Uhh…”

She ran into the kitchen and swept me up into a hug, giving me a squeeze before letting go and looking at me apologetically. “Look I’m really sorry, but I forgot about our dinner plans and Ben offered to take me out to dinner, and I already said yes—“

Oh. Okay then. At least I recognised the name – Ben was someone Tayla had her eye on for a while, and as usual what Tayla wanted, Tayla got. You could try to hate her for it, but actually it was always just impressive.

I waved a hand and pretended it was fine. “Don’t worry. Garrett’s here, I’m cool.”

Tayla flashed him a smile. “Hey Garrett, nice to see you. Sorry I can’t stop.”

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s cool, go have fun kid. I’ll look after Brandy.”

Tayla winked, “I’m sure you will,” and I nearly hit her. Instead I pushed her gently out of the kitchen, if just to cut the conversation short.

“Go – go get ready. You looked like you were in a hurry.”

She twisted to look at me gratefully and proceeded to run down the hall, sweeping up her bag. “He’s given me fifteen minutes, can you believe it? Oh my god!”

She practically jumped up the stairs and I could hear her ripping drawers open upstairs, the wardrobe doors banging. I turned to face Garrett and shrugged.
“More pizza for us, I guess.”

He clapped his hands together, rubbing his fingers together greedily, and adopted a creepy guy voice. “Ahhh, exactly as I planned.”

The pizza guy arrived just as Tayla tripped out the door, her thin scarf streaming out behind her as she jumped into the car. The pizza guy’s head swivelled as he watched her go, of course. The short skirt she was wearing revealed her long pale legs and just like everyone else, the guy’s jaw dropped. I shoved some dollar bills into his hand and tugged the pizza boxes out of his grip.

“Don’t even bother asking me for her number,” I told him seriously. I didn’t feel bad about shutting the door in his face.

We didn’t bother with plates; just spread the pizza boxes out on the kitchen table. As usual Garrett wrinkled his nose at my ham and pineapple – “Who eats fruit on a pizza? Gross!” but that didn’t stop him stealing a slice when he thought I wasn’t looking.

“Garrett, you’re not slick, you know that right? There’s literally only two of us here, I’m going to notice when you steal my pizza.”

“I was hoping you’d think you’d eaten it yourself!”

I laughed. “No chance, I’m afraid.”

He sighed and pushed his pepperoni towards me. “Here, have some of mine.”

“Nah, it’s cool, it just made me laugh.”

We ate our way through the pizza pretty steadily and by the time we were done I tossed the pizza box into the trash, completely beaten.

“I don’t think I could eat another bite in my life,” I moaned, leaning with my back against the kitchen counter as I watched Garrett discard of his rubbish. “I think I’ve developed a food baby.”

Garrett chuckled and crossed the kitchen towards me, reaching out to poke me in the stomach. “Nah I think you’re good.”

I squirmed away from his fingers too quickly, and caused him to fall forward and lose balance, and once again that day, I found Garrett’s face precariously close to mine. His body pressed up against my own, and way he had fallen caused his lips to brush the shell of my ear, and the counter was still pressed into my back. It felt too much like something it clearly wasn’t, but neither of us moved for a second, both holding our breath.

Eventually Garrett coughed and righted himself, stepping back. His hand came up to rub at the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Well, that was awkward.”

“Yeah it was,” I agreed, averting my eyes quickly. I laughed, trying to cover my blush. “You’ve got two left feet Nickelsen. It’s all that jumping around you do on stage, it affects your balance, I’m sure of it.”

And suddenly, with my joke, the awkwardness was gone. Garrett laughed and flicked his fringe out of his eyes, smiling at me. “You know, it probably does.”

I turned my attention to the making of drinks. “Do you want something, coffee maybe?”

“How about some wine?”

I turned around and narrowed my eyes at him. “You’ll be drinking alone – I’ve got to drive you home remember?”

“Aww come on Brands, you can have one glass - I trust you.”

A glass of wine did sound appealing, if just to ease the hyper awareness I had of Garrett and his proximity to me just then. I was super conscious of exactly how far away from me he was, and how different it had felt when he was so close to me, and I had a feeling it really wasn’t going to help me get through the rest of the night.

I poured out two glasses of white wine and handed him one before cradling my own between my fingers. Garrett moved into the living room and sprawled out on the sofa, throwing his free arm over the back of it. I looked to the armchair opposite for a place sit, but Garrett patted his hand on the space next to him. The sagging material of my old beat up couch pushed me closer to Garrett as I sat down, but Garrett just shifted himself so I was tucked against his side, half lying on his chest.

The clock above my TV told me it was getting on for ten o’clock and I told Garrett as much, but he just shrugged and squirmed even further into the cushions.

“Eh. This is nice. We haven’t hung out like this for a while, have we?”

I shook my head. “You’ve been busy, on tour and stuff, I get it.”

Garrett sighed and brought his free hand up to fiddle with the ends of my stick straight brown hair. “No, it’s okay, you can say it. I’ve been a shitty friend over the last couple of months.”

I started to protest but just ended up mumbling some pathetic excuse. I sighed and took a sip of my wine. “Yeah, you kinda have. You were so MIA until the party last night. I barely saw you.”

I looked up at Garrett to find him frowning, his face all scrunched. “Things have been weird, Brands.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Weird how?”

“Like my head’s been all over the place recently.”

I straightened up and moved to the end of the couch so I could look at him properly when we were talking. “If I’m gonna play your therapist this evening, Garrett, you’re gonna have to be a bit more explicit.”

He made a face and raised his wine glass to his lips before draining it completely, and I stared at him. Maybe something really was wrong and I just hadn’t noticed, hadn’t bothered checking up on him – and that made me the bad friend. I had just figured that recently Garrett was off doing his own thing, with the band, with Rhiannon, with himself. I wasn’t needy or anything, we were just adults living our lives, so I wasn’t particularly pro-active in keeping in touch either. Perhaps we were both to blame.

“Things have been hectic, you know with 8123. Getting the studio ready for recording, making sure all the legal stuff was cool. John’s been a fucking mess with she who must not be named…”

He looked at me pointedly and I nodded. Everyone knew John’s last break-up had really messed with his head – something that everyone had seen coming. The lads had a hard time picking up the pieces. “But he’s with Hannah now, so he’s okay, right?”

Garrett sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, they’re great, most of the time. She’s exactly what he needs – down to earth, won’t take any of his bullshit.”

I nodded. If there was one thing I liked about Hannah, it was her relentless honesty. You always knew where you stood with her. “So?” I prompted.

“Well, you’ve heard Forever Halloween right? Do those lyrics sound happy to you?” I shook my head. “Well Imaginary Numbers is even worse! John seems to be still hung up on her, and he’s dumping all this emotional baggage into the songs, and I know Hannah’s heard them and it’s not pretty – you’ll see tomorrow when we record together. John’s still hurting, and he’s not talking to Hannah about it, he’s telling the band.”

“Shit. That’s gotta hurt for Hannah,” I said. There are definite drawbacks to dating musicians. Quite often the only way you get to know their real feelings is through their songs. (Been there, done that.)

Garrett nodded. “Right, so that’s going on, and I’m telling him to end it with Hannah if he can’t give her what she deserves, which okay, is harsh, but totally needed and then – get this – Kennedy looks at me and tells me I should start thinking about what I deserve!”

I nearly choked on the wine I was drinking. “What the hell does Ken mean by that?”

“He thinks Rhiannon isn’t right for me, basically. I’ve been with her for over a year! You can’t just turn around and say something like that to a guy!”

I struggled to swallow the wine I’d nearly inhaled and tried to straighten out my answer. Apparently I had an ally in Kennedy, although I’d had no idea he shared my distaste for Rhiannon. I couldn’t believe he’d actually called Gare out on it though, and I wasn’t sure if I could back him up talking to Garret now. It was too complicated.

I paused and bit my lip. “Well what do you think?”

“About what?”

“About Rhiannon and what Kenny said,” I prompted. I figured questioning him about it was safer than giving my own opinion.

Garrett reached for the wine bottle and topped up his glass. “I don’t know! I mean, I love Rhiannon!”

I tried not to flinch. Garrett kept on talking.

“She’s beautiful, my parents love her. And she’s so committed to everything, she’s got so much ambition and drive, which I really admire—“

I thought about my own crummy PA job compared to Rhiannon’s journalistic career and cringed internally.

“—and she’s never been anything but good to me. And Jesus, when we’re in bed—“

I coughed pointedly and Garrett cut off and looked at me awkwardly. “Sorry, too much information. Anyway, she’s great, she is…”

He trailed off and for once I detected an element of doubt in his voice. It was really hard not to pounce on it - I couldn’t believe we were actually having this conversation, after so long. Was Garrett actually starting to think twice about his relationship?

“I’m sensing a but somewhere in there…”

Garrett looked at me for a second, and then his shoulders slumped. He looked like all his energy had just been sapped from his bones and I instantly felt bad for pushing it, even though I wanted to hear what he thought. There was something he wasn’t telling me, brewing just under the surface, but I really didn’t want to push it.

“But… But I don’t know if Kennedy is right. Sometimes I just feel like she’s too heavy you know? Like she can be really suffocating at times, and whenever I bring it up with her, I just upset her, and I always feel like shit afterwards.”

He looked so conflicted, sitting there on my couch, sipping his wine. His eyebrows were drawn right over his eyes, and I desperately wanted to smooth out the creases in his forehead with my fingers. But I didn’t because I’d already filled my quota of weird for that week with my dancing at Ken’s party.

Instead I crawled towards him and lay back down on his chest, knees curled up. I ended up trying to comfort him the only way I knew how, by being his friend.

“You wanna watch the X Files and forget about it for a bit?” I asked.

He gave me a water smile, looking grateful. “Thanks Brands.”

I pulled myself from the couch to go find the box set. We’d been trying to burn through all 9 seasons together, but I knew Garrett must have watched a few episodes himself while we’d been missing each other. Turns out he’d watched an entire season.

I slipped on the next episode for him anyway and returned to my position on the couch where Garrett tried (and failed) to explain what had happened. It all sounded so confusing, just aliens everywhere apparently, so I made him shut up and just let me watch the episode. Garrett groaned every time Mulder and Scully were on screen together.

“They have no concept of personal space! Look how close they are when they’re talking! It’s season four and they’re not together yet – why?!”

It amused me how passionate Garrett always got about their relationship. I patted his chest in an effort to placate him and told him there were still five seasons left to go, which just made him groan louder. I thought about our concept of personal space too, what with Garrett’s arm around my shoulders, and me tucked against him. I mentally shrugged – we were best friends, personal space had been abandoned a long time ago, right?

Eventually I drove Garrett home at half one in the morning. One episode had turned into three; we were both so engrossed in the plot. Garrett was a little tipsy after having finished off the wine, but I was perfectly sober, thank goodness.

He leaned across the gearstick to press a slightly damp kiss to my cheek before he got out. “Thanks for the ride, Bey. See you in the studio tomorrow yeah?” He’d talked to me about details for the recording earlier that evening. I nodded and hoped he couldn’t see me blush in the darkness of the car, that the lights on the dashboard wouldn’t give me away.

“Sure thing,” I told him. “I hope Rhiannon doesn’t mind you being so late.”

He glanced towards his house, the widows of which were all unlit. She was evidently already in bed. He shrugged. “She’ll understand,” he answered, “or she won’t. I don’t care. See you Brandy.”

“See you Gare.”

I left him still standing on the curb, waving at my car, while the streetlight behind him left him in silhouette. I wondered how long he stood there before turning to go inside, too. Not an insignificantly sized part of me hoped it was a while, though. That was me being horrible, I knew, but now that I had acknowledged my crush on Garrett was back, there was no denying it – I really couldn’t help myself.