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I twirled my French fire in the air before dipping it in my banana milk shake and popping it in my mouth. Garrett immediately pulled a face from over the table.

“I hate it when you do that,” he said.

“I think that’s a case of the pot calling the kettle black, Garrett - I hate it when you mix mayonnaise and ketchup,” I teased, pointing to the mess of condiments he was dipping his fries into.

He chuckled. “Fair play.”

I grinned at him and dipped another fry, purposefully looking at him as I swallowed. He rolled his eyes and went back to his burger.

In between bites we made conversation; about new movies that had bombed at the box office (Garrett was lamenting the terrible effects in the latest zombie slasher – I asked him whether it was realistic to ask any zombie film to have good effects. He got annoyed.) We moved on to the top five worst film ever made (Garrett decided on Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel – “It was so bad I almost want to watch it again, just to make sure. Completely burnt the first film to he ground. Yikes.”) I thought Mean Girls 2 was another testament as to why sequels always failed, and Garrett laughed and admitted to liking the original.

“Dude, I know. Remember that time we had a film night and you actually asked to watch it?”

He threw a fry at my head, looking embarrassed. Only I ducked and it sailed past my head, hitting the old couple in the booth behind us straight in the back. They turned round and glared at us disapprovingly, and I hastily apologised, whilst Garrett tried to hide his explosion of laughter in a napkin. I kicked him in the leg under the table before the old woman said anything, her beady eyes fixed on Garrett’s face, but it just turned his laughter in chokes of surprise and pain. Eventually the couple just left, sighing dramatically and complaining about ‘the youth of today’. Garrett shot them the finger behind their back, before turning back to me and smirking. I couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“Where were we?”

We talked about loads of stuff, conversation trailing off to pick back up again. Eventually there was a lull and Garrett started to pick at the empty food container in front of him.

“Brandy, we haven’t talked about what happened at the party…”

I blinked. I figured we were both purposefully ignoring the subject, considering we were having so much fun not talking about it. I really didn’t want to discuss with Garrett what an enormous fool I’d made of myself. The mood of our conversation dipped immediately, and whereas a minute ago I’d been laughing and comfortable, suddenly I was crossing and uncrossing my legs, unsure of myself.

“What do you want me to say, Garrett?” I asked finally.

“You didn’t actually sleep with John, did you?” He sounded worried.

“I uhh…” Eventually I settled on the truth, “No, we didn’t.”

Garrett visibly relaxed, his hands withdrawing from fiddling with his empty burger box, a smile spreading across his face. It irritated me how easily he was just able to let it go, just because I hadn’t actually done anything with John.

“Good,” he said.

My eyes flashed.

“Why’s that good? Am I not allowed to sleep with people now? I get that John’s your friend, hell he’s practically your brother, but we were both technically single, you know.”

Garrett’s eyes widened at my attack, looking confused. “Brandy, woah. I just mean that…. - that I’m not sure John’s in a great place right now, and I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret.”

“I’m a big girl, Garrett, I think I can make those kind of decisions myself, thanks,” I replied scathingly. I couldn’t help it. I was ruining our day together, but his attitude towards John and I was rubbing me up the wrong way.

He frowned at me. “Brandy you’re my best friend, I was just looking out for you.”

“What, by keeping tabs on who I have sex with?” My tone was biting.

Garrett recoiled. “I didn’t mean it that way, I—“

“Well, that’s the way it comes across. My sexual relationships are none of your business unless I ask them to be, Garrett, got that?”

His mouth open and shut like a trap, fumbling for words.

“I’m sorry, Brands.”

I leant back in the booth, my arms crossed, but now slightly embarrassed at my outburst. “Sorry, I’m done now,” I mumbled.

“Right…Uhh, you wanna go?”

I nodded and Garrett pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slid a couple of bills across the table to me.

“I said I’d pay for your food, and I’m really sorry about what I said.”

I looked at the money for a second and then shrugged and stuffed the money in my pocket. Maybe I’d feel bad about taking it tomorrow, but not then. “Okay,” I said.

“Okay?” He looked at me carefully.

“Yeah, Garrett, alright. You’re forgiven, for now.”

As we were leaving In-n-Out Garrett slipped an arm across my shoulder.

“There’s another party this weekend – you’re gonna come right?”

“I don’t know – am I allowed?”

Garrett shrugged. “Look you have other friends beside me, most of which are in the crew. She can’t stop you from turning up.”

I rolled my eyes. “How gracious of her highness.”

Garrett acted like I hadn’t spoken. “Actually it’s not really a party, just the usual gang are hitting the clubs. You’re up for that right?”

I hesitated, thinking about the amount of alcohol I’d have to drink before going clubbing, and what that might amount to with Garrett around, but he was looking at me with his bottom lip jutting out, big baby blue eyes, and I succumbed.

“Alright.”

“Great! I’ll text you details. Come on, we’ve got the rest of the day, remember?”

I nodded and he dragged me over to his car. I slid into the passenger seat and leant to flick the radio on. Garrett harrumphed, preferring to have control over the audio, but I ignored him. Maybe I was still punishing him. Just a little bit.

“Where we headed?”

“Actually I was thinking about heading over to Gilbert and to my folks’ place. I haven’t had a chance to check in with them recently.” He looked over at me apologetically. “That okay? I mean, they’re always asking after you, you’re very welcome.”

“Uh, okay, sure.” I agreed.

Garrett grinned at me, and even let me keep the radio on, which is saying something. The drive through the suburbs from Tempe to Gilbert was pretty quick. We passed Mesquite High, the big block white building reflecting the sun’s glare as we drove past. Garrett looked over his shoulder before we left it totally behind.

“Fond memories huh?” he said sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was a living hell, but whatever.”

“Only because you spent your time avoiding math homework and hating most of the kids there.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, probably. Still there were some assholes for sure.”

“They weren’t all bad.”

Garrett looked at me pointedly. “Michael? The nine month boyfriend in junior year who ended up cheating on you? Definitely an asshole, Brandy.”

Apparently today was going to involve lots of dipping into my love life. I shrank into my car seat, away from Garrett and his reminders. Michael had cheated on me with a senior at a stupid end of year party, locked in the bathroom, whilst I was busy trying to get him a drink. What a cliché. He’d begged me to forgive him afterwards, spun the whole ‘it was a stupid mistake’ charade, but I had left him anyway. He broke my naïve little 17 year old heart. Garrett had actually been my rock after that had happened, taking me out and distracting me, letting me yell when I wanted to.

“Wow, thanks for digging up the past, Gare.”

He looked over at me and sighed. “Sorry, that was kinda insensitive, I didn’t know you were still hung up on that.”

“I mean, I wasn’t, but it’s not nice to be reminded, you know?”

Garrett gave my knee a squeeze, reaching across the console and looking apologetic. “He was an asshole, Brandy. You wouldn’t have stayed together anyway. I could never talk to you when you were with him.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. And you could have talked to him, you just didn’t want to,” I pointed out. “There’s a difference.”

Mesquite disappeared from the rear view mirror and Garrett watched it go.

“I never understood why he did it. I mean, it wasn’t as if you weren’t hot in high school.”

I turned to face him, my eyebrow raised. “I was hot in high school?” I tried to tease him, but in reality my heart had started to speed up, fluttering in my chest.

His eyes flicked off the road to me, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks at what he’d let slip.

“Uh, sure. You were really hot in high school. All my friends said it.”

All his friends. Right. I sighed, and Garrett noticed, thinking he’d messed up again. His hands flexed on the steering wheel.

“I mean, I knew you were hot, too,” he started hesitantly. “It really confused me when he did that to you. If I was him I’d have never made that mistake, like ever. I’m pretty sure I said that to you back then, but I’m saying it again now. Like I thought you two were gonna be ‘it’ you know? Because you seemed so in love with him, and he really seemed to really like you. And I remember thinking back then, how do I get that? How do you become the sort of person that you -- or anyone other girl wants to date? I’m not sure I ever actually figured that out, but I mean I met Rhiannon and I must have managed it, but I still think about that. About you and Michael. I dunno, I just do. I don’t understand.”

When he was done rambling I sat in the car seat, a little stunned. I hadn’t thought about Michael in about a year, and Garrett had? I didn’t know what to make of it.

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

“No problem.”

At that moment we pulled into Garrett’s parents drive, and Garrett parked the car all slanted on the drive. I feel like our conversation wasn’t finished somehow, but Garrett jumped out without bothering to straighten up and I had no choice but to follow him and stand with him on the porch as he rang the bell.

“They’re probably gonna be annoyed I didn’t ring ahead,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d get the chance to see them.”

I was just about to ask him to explain when the door opened and Mrs Nickelsen looked a little shocked to find us both on the door step.

“Garrett! And Brandy! I didn’t expect to see you, son. You should have called!”

Garrett stuck his hands in his back pocket and bit his lip. “Sorry Mom.”

She shook her head at him and then gestured behind us. “Well don’t just stand there, come in! Your brother is here, too, it’s like you knew, although he did notify us first!”

Garrett lit up at the mention of his brother and stepped into the house eagerly, pressing a kiss to him mother’s cheek before moving into the hall. As he kicked off his shoes I gave Mrs Nickelsen a wave.

“I don’t mean to intrude, Sarah, Garrett kind of dragged me along.”

Garrett’s mom smiled down at me and pulled me into a short hug. She’d always been fond of me, I think. Probably because I’d been around so long.

“Don’t be silly, dear, it’s always a pleasure to see you. Come on in!”

I thanked her and kicked off my own sneakers and followed Garrett into the lounge. Mr Nickelsen was sat with his feet up, watching a game on TV, but as soon as I entered he shut it off and clambered up. “Brandy! How nice to see you!”

Mr Nickelsen wasn’t really one for hugs, so I laughed and stuck out my hand for him to shake. He did so, beaming at me, and Garrett stood beside me, smiling at his father’s reaction.

“Hi Dad. Just your youngest son here, no biggie.”

Mr Nickelsen just lifted a hand and ruffled Garrett’s hair, making it even more messy, if possible, and chuckled.

“It’s good to see you, Garrett. You kids want some lemonade?”

Garrett nodded and his Dad left for the kitchen. There was the sound of someone on the stairs, the squeak of floorboards that even I remembered from sleep-overs in high school, and Trey, Garrett’s brother, came tumbling into the room.

“Bro!” he yelled happily, “you’re home!”

“I sure am!” The two hugged it out for a second and then Trey turned to me.

“Long time no see, little sis,” he said, smiling.

“Hiya Trey.”

“Aww, c’m’ere! Give your best brother some lovin’!”

I rolled my eyes but moved to hug him anyway, snuggling into his shoulder like I remembered doing before.

Garrett and Trey had always been close, and as result, so had Trey and I. He acted like my stand in big brother during high school, since I was an only child. Actually I seemed to remember something about Trey and Michael starting something after he cheated – that was how fiercely protective of me Trey got. It always felt comforting, to know that someone like Trey, so cool, but so kind, had my back. Often when I hung out with Garrett, Trey would join in, whether we were playing video games, or jamming out. We joked that we’d start our own band – Trey on guitar, Garrett on bass and me on vocals. ‘Brandy and the Babes’ Garrett always called it. And hey, we did some mean Ryan Adams covers. It could have happened.

Trey let go of me and turned to Garrett, suddenly looking serious. “So Gare, we haven’t see you around recently. You been busy or something?”

“Yeah, sort of. Sorry I didn’t mean to abandon you or anything.”

Trey shrugged. “It’s not me you have to worry about, bro. I see you at 8123, or at the very least I can talk to someone there who’s seen you recently. Mom and Dad get nothing and you only live across the way.”

Garrett sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “I know, I’m a piece of shit, I get it.”

“I’m just saying you should make more of an effort.”

Trey looked like his little lecture was over, and he sat down on the couch and patted the space next to him. I dropped next to him and Garrett settled himself next to me. Mr Nickelsen came back in with a tray of lemonade and chuckled at the sight of the three of us lined up “like old times, hey?”

I was starting to wonder just how long Garrett had apparently being avoiding his family. I looked to my right, but Garrett was trailing his eyes along the old cd case next to him. He leant over and pulled out a red hued album and showed it to me. It was Third Eye Blind’s first album; an album that Gare and I had spent countless afternoons driving along to or jamming out to, or just putting on in the background. The soundtrack of our adolescence. I could probably still remember all the lyrics if he played it now without even having to think at all.

“Wow. Memories, huh?”

“Wouldn’t it be great, just being sixteen again? Sometimes I think it would be the best thing.”

I nodded and took the album from his hands, flipping it open to look at the battered lyric booklet, the sharpie marks from where Garrett had doodled on it. Things were sure a hell of a lot simpler when we were sixteen. Trey glanced over and saw what we were looking at.

“God, you two were like, obsessed.”

Garrett laughed and slotted the cd back in itss space, just as Mrs Nickelsen came bustling back in with some cake. Both the boys pounced on it immediately with “thanks Mom” hardly being muttered before they dug in.

“Brandy dear, could you just, umm, help me with the plates in the kitchen a second?”

I looked confusedly at the plates in Garrett and Trey’s hands but Mrs Nickelsen looked flustered, smoothing her hands on her jeans, so I got up without a complaint and followed her down the hall. She headed to the cupboard and lifted an entire stack of plates down. I stared at her.

“Umm, Mrs N, are you okay?”

She looked at the plates for a second and then pursed her lips.

“I didn’t really want help with the plates.”

I’d figured as much.

“I didn’t expect to see you here today,” she commented.

“I didn’t expect to come. Garrett suggested it and I agreed. Like I said, I hope it’s okay.”

She waved me off. “It’s not that. I didn’t expect to see Garrett either. He hasn’t been home in over a month now, did you know? And now he just shows up out of the blue! Brandy, do you know if he’s alright?”

I squirmed. I didn’t know how comfortable Garrett would be with me talking about his relationship with his parents. I shrugged. “I know he’s having some problems with Rhiannon. I don’t know what that has to do with you, though, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware he wasn’t visiting, otherwise I probably would have bugged him about it.”

“Problems with Rhiannon?”

I nodded.

“Is he okay? Should I talk to him?”

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, much like Gare did when he was uncomfortable.

“I don’t know, Sarah,” I sighed, “I think it’s pretty bad.”

Mrs Nickelsen’s face crumpled. “Oh my poor baby. What is that girl doing to him? You know I’ve never liked her, but if she made Garrett happy, I was more than willing to deal with her. But now…”

She slowly put the plates away again and swung round to smile sadly at me. “You know, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I always thought you and Garrett would become an item.”

I’m pretty sure my face flushed beet-red. “Yeah, well…” I managed, unable to curb my embarrassment. People assumed that Garrett and I were a couple all the time when we were younger, or they used to suggest that we should be, and it never used to bother me. Until recently when I started to develop these damn feelings. Talk about being a late bloody bloomer.

Mrs Nickelsen’s eyes popped open as she looked at me, obviously writhing in embarrassment. “Oh honey, I didn’t know, I promise.”

She paused and looked at me with so much sympathy that I waited to melt on the spot. Just right up and disappear. It was mortifying.

She glanced towards the kitchen door, thankfully shut. “Does he know? That you like him that way?”

I shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t know. I haven’t told him if that’s what you’re asking.”

She frowned at me. “Brandy honey, you have to tell him. He thinks the world of you, you know that, and I’ve said it before, but Rhiannon is just not right for him. Maybe it’ll take you to make him realise that.”

I sighed. “I can’t, Sarah. Not when he’s so fixed on Rhiannon. You raised him right –“ I joked sadly, “he doesn’t give up on people easily.”

Mrs Nickelsen just shook her head and pulled me into a hug. Her soft cardigan brushed against my face, and it reminded me of my own Mom, who I hadn’t seen recently, after she moved back to New Jersey with her new boyfriend. It made me ache to be able to hug my own mother again, and I sniffled a little into Sarah’s shoulder before I could help myself.

The bang of the kitchen door made me jerk my head upwards, and Sarah released me. Garrett stood in the doorway, his phone in his hand, staring at the both of us, his forehead creased.

“Brandy? You okay? Mom?”

Mrs Nickelsen floundered so I stepped in. “Yeah, we’re fine Gare. I was just saying how I missed my Mom.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Oh.” Garrett looked sympathetic. Then his phone sounded with a text alert and he glanced down at it, looking agitated.

“Hey Mom, I’m really sorry, but I have to go now. I promise I’ll be back on Sunday for lunch of that’s okay?”

Mrs Nickelsen nodded. “Sure, son, if you need to go. Maybe ring us between then, yeah?”

He nodded, and then looked at me. “You ready to go?”

‘Sure.”

Mrs Nickelsen looked like she wanted to say something, but I shot her a look and she obviously changed her mind. “Think about it, honey.”

I nodded and left, calling out a goobye to Trey and Mr Nickelsen from the doorway to lounge. Trey got up to hug me goodbye, and then Garrett was driving us both back home. Nobody switched the radio on.

“Gare, you Mom said you haven’t been home in over a month?”

His hands flexed on the wheel. “No, I haven’t, it’s true.”

“Why?”

“Rhiannon. She doesn’t like visiting my folks because she says it makes her uncomfortable, so I just kept putting it off, hoping she’d change her mind, and then I started avoiding going by myself because I knew they’d ask about her.”

“Wow. Garrett that’s kind of awful.”

“Thanks, I think Trey already pointed that out.”

Silence dropped over us.

“What was that with you and my mom. You’re okay, aren’t you, Brandy? You’re upset about your mom?”

I bit my lip, feeling bad about having used that as an excuse now, but it didn’t make my feelings any less real when I admitted to them.

“I just haven’t seen her in a while, you know. Talking on the phone isn’t the same, and I miss her. And I know she can’t stay around Arizona with my Dad here, but really? New Jersey? I can’t afford tickets to go see her right now and it sucks, Gare.”

He looked across at me, his eyes full of sympathy. ‘That kind of puts my family problems to shame, huh?”

I choked out a laugh, trying suddenly not to just sit there and cry about everything and anything.

“Yeah, it kind of does. Let me guess, we’re going home because Rhiannon wants to know where you are?”

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly.

I closed my eyes and let my head fall against the headrest. Why were people so afraid to leave a relationship, even when they know that something is wrong? What it is about us that makes us cling to things even when we start losing hope?