In planning my trip to return Isaac's t-shirt, I forgot one crucial detail.

Spencer.

Well, Spencer, and Jess, and Matthew, and I suppose me.

What I mean is I forgot our double date. An impromptu, but not wholly unexpected, brunch situation I wish I could avoid. Except I can't, leaving me in a much too frilly white dress with the t-shirt stuffed at the bottom of my favourite canvas bag.

Spencer and Matthew are up ahead, laughing loudly. From the back, they look like brothers. They're both too tall, with too many limbs. Both have thick, wavy brown hair, although Spencer's is a little darker. They both like black jeans, even in the summer months when black is synonymous with sweat, and faded t-shirts. This, compounded with the fact that best friends often merge, has me wondering if Jess and I are total weirdos for liking them. In many ways, it's like liking the same guy, except Matthew would never cheat. He's much too in love with Jess. Not that I blame him, she's an angel.

"Everything alright, Lizzie-bear?" Jess asks.

I take it back. She's a she-devil.

I shove her, causing her teasing laughter to grow, and shake my head. "Don't call me that."

"It's too good not to."

"Oh yeah, Jessica Rabbit?"

"No," she groans, shoving me. "That's just gross."

"Like Lizzie-bear is any better?"

"Fine, they're both shit at nicknames."

"So shit."

We laugh, our arms wrapping around one another, and my head falls onto her shoulder as we slow to a lingering crawl. "If I tell you something," I whisper, my eyes fixed on the back of Spencer's head, "do you promise to keep it to yourself?"

"Of course. Who else would I tell but you?"

"I mean it, Jess."

"I won't tell Matthew if that's what you're worried about," she says, brushing away the curled whisps of hair that fly into my line of sight. "So tell me."

I stare at her, really stare, taking in her unassuming smile and kind eyes, the deep dimples beside her mouth and the light dusting of freckles she's hidden under a thin layer of foundation. I watch as those eyes falter, her long, curled lashes fluttering. As her brown eyes, much lighter than my own, darken slightly. I watch her smile fall, feel her hand tighten, and then sigh.

"It's nothing serious," I say, returning my gaze to Spencer.

"You could've fooled me."

"It's just that I have to go to Isaac's."

"Why?"

"Because." My voice trails off, and I screw my eyes shut for a second. "Because," I say, the darkness making me brave. "Because I have his t-shirt."

"You have his t-shirt?"

I nod.

"You have his t-shirt!" Her voice bounces up the pavement, catching Matthew and, in turn, Spencer's attention.

"Jess," I hiss.

"You alright?" Matthew asks.

"Of course," she says, her smile tight. "Lizzie found this t-shirt I really wanted."

"Yeah, we thought it was sold out, but I guess we were looking in the wrong places."

Matthew rolls his eyes and pushes on, his and Spencer's conversation picking up right where they left it, allowing me to elbow Jess. She lets out a strangled sound that's a cross between a squeal and a groan, then pinches me.

"What was that for?" I wince.

"Why did you elbow me?"

"Because you have a big mouth."

"They don't know what we're talking about."

"Thankfully. I think Spencer might kill me right here if he did."

"What happened between you two?" she asks, her voice far too wistful for my liking.

"Me and Isaac?"

"Yes, you and Isaac."

I swallow the truth and shrug. "We kissed, once or twice. Nothing more, nothing less, I guess."

"You guess?"

"He wanted more," I admit, my hand reaching for hers. "But I want Spencer."

"And Spencer?"

"Doesn't trust me, which is kinda crazy, but I guess I don't blame him. I wouldn't trust him either."

"That's because he cheated on you, Lizzie," she says, squeezing my hand. "But you've never given him any reason to doubt you. If anything, you proved your loyalty the moment you took him back."

"You think?"

"I know."

"So what? Do I tell him that I'm going to Isaac's, or do I lie or omit or...?"

"You do nothing," she says. "As long as it doesn't come up, it doesn't come up."

"But that's lying."

"Like that's ever stopped Spencer."

I blow a puff of air out, watching as it floats into the pale sky, and nod. "You're right. If it doesn't come up, it doesn't come up."

Her lips tug into a beautiful smile. I try to match it.

"Let's go," she says, yanking my arm. "If we walk any slower, we won't be eating till midday."

Eventually, we reach Jess' favourite Starbucks. It's the furthest one in walking distance, coming in after two perfectly acceptable options; that is, they're perfectly acceptable if you're anyone but Jess. Apparently, this one has more natural light and comfier seats. Not that it makes much difference to the rest of us. But then I'd do anything for Jess, including walking an extra ten minutes for a blueberry muffin.

Matthew holds the door open for us while Spencer scouts out a spot. I smile as Matthew steals a kiss, his lips brushing against Jess' in a moment of perfect sweetness. Honestly, if there were ever two people made for one another, it's him and Jess; they're like the living equivalent of a chef's kiss.

Spencer and I, on the other hand?

Well, ever since I've gotten back, something's felt off. Not entirely, just askew. But then I guess that's what happens when you've spent so long apart. I mean, it was almost a month. A month of limited contact, festering hatred and residual anger. A month of other people. People like Isaac.

"You alright?" Spencer asks, his hand finding mine as we sit on the plush bench.

"Of course."

"You seem a little out of it."

"I was just thinking about...that shirt."

"Right, the shirt."

"What's so special about this shirt?" Matthew asks.

"Yeah," Spencer laughs. "I've never seen you two so excited about a top before."

Jess glances at me, the corners of her eyes widening ever so slightly before I jump up. "We should order," I say.

"Yeah." She follows my lead. "You two want your usual?"

"Um, sure." Matthew glances at Spencer. "We'll have the usual."

"Yeah," Spencer only laughs. "Whatever is fine."

"Cool." I clamp a hand around Jess' wrist and tug. "We'll be back."

The queue is offensively short. Thankfully, Jess' order is complex, and Matthew and Spencer have a thing for hot sandwiches, giving me ten minutes of respite from their questioning.

"What are we going to say?" I hiss as we scurry away from the till.

"Nothing. Honestly, they'll have forgotten about it by the time we get back."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"You're paranoid," she says. "Spencer barely remembers his own birthday. Trust me, he's not going to remember this."

Except Spencer seems to remember a whole lot these days.

~*~

Brunch becomes lunch, our Starbucks turning into a Tesco meal deal in the park, Spencer's stomach acting as my pillow while we devour cheap sandwiches and chuck M&Ms at one another. Then my phone rings and the more pressing issue of Isaac's t-shirt is pulled to the forefront of my mind as Henry's name appears and disappears on my screen.

I spring out of Spencer's embrace, my phone clutched in one hand, my bag in the other, and dash towards the gravel path that circles the grass. Henry calls again. I consider ignoring it, then I sigh and press the screen to my cheek.

"Where are you?" He asks, completely skipping some much-needed pleasantries.

"Out."

"Clearly, I thought you were returning Isaac's t-shirt."

"I will, later."

"Later? It's like two o'clock. There isn't much later left."

"I thought you weren't getting involved," I hiss as I collapse onto an empty bench.

"With you and Spencer, but you and Isaac are another matter altogether."

"There is no me and Isaac, Henry."

"For now."

"Ever. Never, ever, okay. There's only me and Spencer, Spencer and me, so please just get off my dick and butt out!"

"Is that how you really feel?" he mutters, his voice suddenly small.

"I don't know, okay. But, if it'll make you feel better, I'll go now."

"Go where?"

"To Isaac's, to give back the shirt. I'll, I'll leave right now." I jump to my feet and march towards the stately entrance gate, the slick black paint shimmering under the delicate attention of the sunlight.

"No—"

"No, Henry, let me just get this over and done with. I'll see you at home."

I hang up before he can say anything else, helpful or otherwise, and shoot a semi-coherent text to Jess. She responds in record time with two thumbs up. I glance over my shoulder as I reach the gate, but rather than catch her eye, it's Spencer's I meet.

He doesn't smile, or frown, or anything. He simply stares at me, then turns away.

For a moment, a very weak moment, the right thing involves me, Spencer and this ridiculously long grass. It involves laughter, the t-shirt long forgotten, and delicious scoops of strawberry ice cream from the stall by the grandstand. It involves Jess and Matthew, the light breeze and the pale yellow of the dim sun. It involves a perfect summer day.

Then reality slaps me across the cheek, and I realise that my perfect day can't come until I've rid myself of Isaac's t-shirt.

Spencer may not forgive me, not today anyway, but in the long run, we won't be alright until I've removed the last vestiges of my holiday. Once they're gone, he'll believe me. He has to.

So I turn away and power on.

Walking to Isaac's is like second nature. The dreary grey pavement is transformed into glittering slabs of yellow brick that wink cheekily, drawing me from the park and towards his house. There's also a mounting sense of excitement.

Not to see Isaac, obviously, I doubt he even wants to see me, but I am excited to get rid of the t-shirt, of the reminders. Not that they remind me of Isaac, more that they remind me of what I did, what I shouldn't have done.

Kissing him was a mistake.

Not at the time. At the time, it was all I wanted.

But now, with Spencer by my side, it definitely wasn't one of my finest moments. Like if we're talking top ten worst decisions, it's definitely hovering around number six, beaten only by that godforsaken hug at the airport.

Gosh, I'm an idiot.

No, not a regular idiot either, but a massive fucking idiot.

A gigantic one.

Why did I hug him?

Why?

Oh no.

I can't do this.

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

I come to a stop. My eyes creep along a smooth concrete path, up to a cherry red door and brown brick house. It has a pointed roof, the tiles pitch black. My eyes falter slightly on a window that sits on the top left.

Isaac's window.

The netting is still singed at the bottom from an ill-advised science experiment carried out when we were eight, and I can just about make out the soft contours of his favourite stuffed bear, which he houses a little too proudly on his windowsill.

The house seems still, peaceful. I feel awful for coming and ruining it, ruining him. Or is that a little big-headed?

I mean, I know he was pissed, but maybe he's gotten over it.

It was one kiss, after all, nothing to write home about.

That is, it was a pretty awesome kiss...no, he's fine. I'm fine. We're over it.

I push open the black gate. It swings seamlessly, giving way to the front door and taking all of my confidence with it.

My finger falters over the doorbell. It brushes against the rubber button, hovering. Just as I'm about to press down on it, the door swings open, and I'm face to face with a blonde.

Not just any blonde either, but his blonde.

His freaking Cinderella. 

***

Why do you think Isaac's ex is there?

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