A five pence coin sprang into the air, twirled, flipping once, twice, six times, then settled in the palm of Wes' hand. Miriam held her breath and glanced at it. Heads he drove, tails she did. Usually she prayed for heads, chanting silently until the outcome revealed if her pleas were answered. But to have Wes drive all the way to Daniel's felt like a cruel trick, so she switched her pre-drive ritual and silently screamed tails. But, alas, it was heads. Gleaming, traitorous heads.

Neither Miriam nor Wes said anything, leaving her to shuffle towards the passenger seat while he snatched the keys from the hood of the car and slipped inside. "I really should drive," Miriam eventually said.

Wes shrugged and clipped his seatbelt, rearranging the band of polyester stretched across his chest for a second too long. "The coin has spoken," he said.

"But—"

"The coin."

"I know, it's just—"

"The fucking coin, Miriam."

She froze, locked in place, and slowly came to while Wes dropped the keys into his lap and sighed, almost sucking the shock straight out of the air. "Sorry," he said, plain and simple. "I just don't want to go."

On the one hand Miriam wanted to ask why he agreed to, but on the other she felt guilty enough to let his contradiction rest. So she reached for the keys and said, "Then let me—"

"But you," he interrupted, "do, so we're going to go and we're going to do this right. If that means flipping a coin to decide who drives and stopping at McDonalds even though it's only two hours and playing your stupid road trip playlist, then so be it. And then, when we get to Daniel's, if it means being nice to Ade, I'm game."

Miriam opened her mouth, but Wes raised a hand, forcing her lips to smack shut.

"I'll do it," he said. "If he makes you happy, you know I'll do it." There was a pause, a moment, then: "Does he make you happy?"

Sincerity laced Wes' voice, warming it so much so that the earlier frost collected in a lukewarm puddle at his feet and Miriam was left with the overwhelming desire to tell the truth. Except she couldn't. Wouldn't. At least she didn't think she would.

"He's honest," she said, offering a truth. "It's nice."

"But does he make you happy?" Wes eyes were piercing, insisting. They practically bore a hole straight through Miriam's chest.

"I don't know," she sighed, "we only just met."

"Fair enough." Wes glanced up at the roof. "Could he make you happy then?" he asked.

Miriam bit her lip. It was a trick question. Of course he could make her happy, that is under different circumstances. Ade was charming, funny, sexy as hell; he was the perfect concoction to bring any girl to her knees, including Miriam. But under these circumstances, where a potential caramel macchiato was at stake alongside her reputation, happiness didn't fit in the equation. And yet, Wes said could, not will, or is, but could. A possibility. A maybe. And there was always space for a maybe, so Miriam nodded, and Wes stuck the keys in the ignition, slowly reversing out of the parking space and driving straight towards what Miriam feared would be the weekend from hell.

Wes didn't speak the entire journey save for asking Miriam what she wanted at McDonalds. Even when he insisted on paying for their order, he did so silently, pushing away Miriam's card rather than simply saying something. In turn, Miriam focused on the music, chowing down on her nuggets and texting Abi who sent minuet by minuet updates of the absolute crazy which was unfolding at Daniel's country retreat. She didn't think too hard about the way Wes glared at the road or how he flinched every time she shifted in her seat, she couldn't. Equally she couldn't think strategy for this weekend, somehow doing so made this whole thing between her and Wes feel all the worse.

It was just past seven when they eventually arrived. The approach to the house was pitch black, interrupted by golden beams which seeped out of the windows, unencumbered by curtains, and spilled onto the gravel drive in sweeping arcs. The car's harsh white headlights disturbed the soft glow until Wes cut the engine and leaned back in his seat. "I can't believe we're doing this," he murmured.

"I can't believe this house," Miriam said. It was pure stone, grey and beige melding, with a ruby red door and polished bronze knocker, simple but elegant and reeking of wealth. Old, crusty wealth.

"It's not like you to be impressed by a fancy house," Wes said when they clambered out of the car.

"There are houses and there are houses. This is a house."

"I should hope so." He sounded like he wanted to laugh; Miriam wanted him to want to laugh, but when it never came, she took the baton and laughed for the both of them.

"You know what I mean," she said, joining Wes at the boot. "The house is beautiful. Classic, you know."

"And your parents' house isn't?"

Miriam shrugged at thought of the cream brick, painted at least once every two years, thick with secrets, and square-paned windows. "It's London," she said. "Everything's classic. History. But this is something else entirely."

"I think you're delirious from the drive."

Miriam shoved Wes' shoulder and grinned the moment he tripped. "If you can't keep up with my genius you should just say."

"I think you mean crazy," he corrected.

"Genius."

"Crazy."

"Gen—"

"Miriam!"

The moment, perfect in its absence, shattered and was lost beneath the gravel, leaving only a memory, phantom and fleeting, in its wake. Ade bounded towards them, barefoot, toned legs exposed beneath thin black shorts, calves flexing with each surefooted step. He bundled Miriam into his arms, mouth brushing against her cheek, and said something that might have been I'm glad you came or, worse yet, I missed you. She hummed, as if to return the sentiment, and stepped out of his grasp, shooting towards Wes, and bringing him into frame.

"Hey man." Ade offered a hand.

Wes accepted it instantly, grinning as he and Ade smacked one another on the back. "Good to see you," Wes said almost as if the entire car journey never happened. "It's been a hot sec since I've been here."

"We had some parties," Ade laughed.

"Remember the time Ryan tried to jump down a flight of stairs?"

"He's definitely banned from the Wrays."

They disappeared into the house, quickly replaced by Abi who ran like a maniac and launched herself at Miriam's open frame. "That's weird," she said once they'd disentangled.

"What?" Miriam popped open the boot.

"Ade and Wes."

Miriam glanced at the open door and rolled her eyes. "It's fake," she said. It had to be.

"You think?"

"Obviously. Ade wants to leave a good impression, and Wes." Her voice hung, catching on itself, and tearing a hole. "Well, I don't know what Wes thinks he's gaining from this."

"You."

Miriam whipped around, mouth confused as to whether it should pull down or up.

"Come on." Abi's laugh was taunting. "You must know how Wes feels about you."

"No."

Abi's eyes narrowed for a moment, flitting across Miriam's face with a quickness that left Miriam's skin crawling, then sighed. "Don't worry," she said, hauling Miriam's suitcase out of the car. "It doesn't matter."

"Do you really think." Miriam stopped herself. Of course, she didn't. Wes was her friend, best friend, not an option. She didn't have options, never had, never will. And anyway, they were friends.

"I do," Abi said nonetheless.

"You're crazy." A gurgle of laughter bubbled out, far too loud in the absence of a real joke.

"And you." Abi patted her cheek. "Are in denial."

"Bit—"

"Let me." Ade came bounding out the house and grabbed the luggage from Miriam's hand. He jerked it over the threshold, the tiny wheels squealing against the hardwood floor, and stopped beside a wide staircase complete with a glossy, cream banister.

"Yeah, thanks, I'd love the help," Abi muttered to herself when the suitcase she was holding caught.

"Sorry," Ade laughed good-naturedly and lunged forward to collect the luggage. He then turned to Miriam, expression soft and purposeful, and offered to show her to her room.

"You don't have to," she said, tucking a braid behind her ear.

"But I want to." He then began the tricky assent up the steep stairs, leading her onto the first-floor landing and taking a sharp right into a large room kitted out with an oak framed bed and dark burgundy walls. "Wes is next door," he said. "I'm down the hall."

"Cool."

Miriam half expected him to head back downstairs, ducking out of the room with a slight smile and the promise of more to come, but he plopped down on the bed, hands spread out behind him, and stared up at her without a lick of deserved shame. Under different circumstances, Miriam would've told him to get out, but she forced herself to don a smile, bright and glad, and unzipped her suitcase. A web of intricate black lace slipped out. It fell at Ade's feet, basking in his grin which spread slowly, widening only when Miriam leapt forward and snatched the article of clothing from the floor. She fell to her knees and stuffed it against the wall of her suitcase and silently cursed herself. It was, annoyingly, the only clean bra she owned. It was also her date bra, reserved for someone else's eyes. Anyone else. But he'd seen it, verified its existence, so all she could do was wallow in shame.

"Cute bra," Ade laughed.

She rolled her eyes, struggling to keep the spite out of her voice. "That's all you'll be seeing of that."

"I'm not so sure about that." Ade stood up and took a considered step towards her. In her panic, she froze, limbs rigid and unyielding even as he brushed his hands over her shoulders and urged her up. This was the part she hated, dreaded, but it was a necessary evil, so she stood, sliding her arms around his shoulders, and tried not grimace as he swooped in and kissed her.

It began tame, soft and sweet, almost magical, and then, with the passing minutes came the slight jab of tongue, probing against the plump swell of her lip until it parted, offering admittance. She was lackadaisical, letting him take charge, brushing and swiping insistently, hands curving around her arse until she pulled back, slightly breathless, and pressed her forehead to his.

"We need to go downstairs," she whispered.

He caught her lips in his, kissing her firmly, then stepped back. "After you," he said, gesturing towards the door.

With a quick smile Miriam ducked out and dashed downstairs, vaguely aware of Ade's presence as her ears locked onto Wes' voice. It boomed from further in the house, his laugh thick and warm like her favourite childhood blanket. All she wanted to do was wrap it tight around herself and let the world fade to black. But instead, she made do with the promise of Wes' smile, and the knowledge that in a few days this would all be over, and they would be back to their usual selves.

***

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