Cole called me the next morning. We settled into a flirty texting routine: morning, noon, and night. Every time my phone buzzed, it was a little zing of pleasure and anticipation. If I thought I’d been like a teenager before, this was a thousand times worse. I was so glued to my next text from Cole that I almost forgot to pick up my friends Lily and Ivan from the airport a few days later. They were returning from their honeymoon and I would have totally forgotten to pick them up if Lily hadn’t texted from their connecting flight to say they were delayed.

“God kväll!” Lily said, slipping into the back of my battered Honda CRV and hugging me awkwardly around the console. Her long-legged new husband, Ivan, joined me in the front seat, looking disappointed and resigned to be cramming himself into yet another too-small space.

“Gesundheit?” I ventured, confused.

“That means good evening in Swedish,” she clarified, her British accent as crisp as ever, even if her orangey-red hair was limp, and her eyes were deeply ringed in exhaustion.

I arched an eyebrow at her through the rearview mirror. “Uh, it’s nine-thirty in the morning, Lily.”

“Not to me,” she said. Her voice was even drier than usual. “The honeymoon was great, but we had the world’s worst return flight.”

“Oh no, crying babies?” I’d never been on an international flight, but I’d flown cross country from Los Angeles to New York beside a teething toddler once. All five hours and twenty-six minutes of that experience were seared painfully into my memory.

Ivan shook his head. “Worse. Teenagers.”

“And not just any teenagers either,” Lily added. “They were East End teenagers.” Then under her breath, “a bunch of bloody loutish chavs is what they were.”

Ivan smirked. “You’re such a snob,” he teased. His wife rolled her green eyes but didn’t deny the accusation. East End? Chavs? Loutish? They were speaking English, but not my English. Damn Europeans. I loved Ivan, who was a Dane, and Lily, who was English (which I’d been informed was quite different than merely British), but they sometimes had conversations I couldn’t remotely follow.

I must have looked confused, because Ivan clarified. “Cockney.”

“Oh, so like a pirate?” I asked. They both now looked confused, so I did an imitation. “Ta talk like a pirate, ye must adopt a scurvy pirate accent.”

They both laughed, but through the rearview, I could see a muscle twitch in Lily’s face. “Please, for the love of god, never do that again,” she begged through her chuckles. “That was the worst West Country imitation I’ve ever heard.”

“But to answer your question,” Ivan continued, “yes, that’s sort-of the accent we’re talking about. It’s associated with people of the lower classes who live in the south.”

That I understood. “Oh, like me,” I said. I’d never thought I had any sort of a southern accent, but I was assured by Emma, who was from the east coast, that I most certainly did. Then again, everyone in Texas had an accent, rich and poor alike.

Lily shook her head. “No, not like you. Not unless you say things like, ‘Oy! Dis maffs fing is a lot of bover’ when what you want to say is ‘this math thing is a lot of bother’.”

I giggled. I wasn’t Winnie the Pooh. I generally didn’t call anything ‘a lot of bother’. “Say that again?” I asked.

“Oy! Dis maffs fing is a lot of bover,” she repeated. It sounded like her mouth was full of marbles. Or bees.

“Yeah, I could see that getting annoying after a few hours,” I admitted. Since I could barely understand it, however, I think I could probably just tune it out. I had to really strain to make myself interpret those sounds into recognizable words.

“It wasn’t so much how they were saying anything,” Lily added, “but the fact that they were saying everything incredibly loudly and just wouldn’t shut up. It was an eleven-hour flight!” Ivan nodded solemnly.

“Oy! Tha’ sounds like a lot of bover,” I attempted.

“Better,” Ivan said, nodding approvingly. I grinned. This whole accent thing was kind of fun.

“Christ, I’ve created a monster,” Lily said. She shook her head.

“Ok, ok, I’ll stop,” I conceded. “How was the honeymoon?”

“Incredible,” Lily said. I’d pulled up at a stop sign so I turned around and looked at her for details, but she just smiled sweetly before adding. “A lady never tells.” From his spot in the front seat, Ivan looked extremely proud of himself.

I wrinkled my nose. “Gross. I was asking about the sight-seeing,” I grumped.

“Oh, that was really good, too,” Lily said. “I brought you back some Swedish chocolates.”

I brightened. “I do like chocolates.” I liked fancy European chocolates even better.

“How did the office reveal for Emma go?” Lily asked, changing the subject. “Was the engagement party fun? I’m sorry I missed it.”

I told an enthralled Lily and half-asleep Ivan all about the recent Emma and Ward wedding news. Lily had taken a long time to come around to Emma and Ward’s relationship, but he had been brilliant to include her in the pre-engagement party surprise office since it went a long way to convince her that Ward really just wanted to make Emma happy.

“…and of course, Ward forgot to take the video of her reaction when she finally saw the finished project,” I finally fell silent. We were now sitting in front of their apartment. In the passenger seat, Ivan had fallen asleep. He was snoring softly against the window. Apparently, my story wasn’t interesting enough to keep him conscious.

Lily, however, was all smiles to hear that everything had gone so well. And she also wasn’t jealous that Emma had selected me as her Maid of Honor.

“It makes sense,” she told me when I asked if she was ok with it. “After all, you’ve known her longer. And I’ve got the whole move to worry about.” Lily and Ivan were moving to Ivan’s native Denmark just after Christmas. He needed a surgery on his knee, complements of a car accident a few years ago, and had been putting it off because of the cost to have it done in the United States. In Denmark, his medical treatment was free. Not to mention the fact that neither European really enjoyed the Texas summers, or the Texas politics.

“What have you been up to?” Lily asked me.

I shrugged my shoulders, playing it cool. “I started sort-of dating somebody,” I said. My voice sounded just a smidge too tight to be casual. Lily zeroed in on my act like a heat-seeking missile. Her eyes narrowed. Emma, I could sometimes fool. Lily? Never.

“You like him, I can tell,” she said. “Tell me.” She wasn’t requesting.

“He’s a friend of Ward’s, from college. He just moved back to Austin,” I started, and then trailed off. I had resolved not to tell Lily or Emma about Cole and me. I had resolved to keep this whole thing a secret to protect myself. That meant not telling Lily the whole truth.

“And you like him?” When I couldn’t suppress my smile, Lily squealed happily and loudly enough that Ivan woke up and hit his head on the grab bar above the window. He swore something in Danish that sounded exactly like a sneeze.

“Oh, we’re home,” he said after a moment, looking around himself in surprise. Lily, momentarily distracted by her husband’s outburst, reluctantly let her questions about that guy wait until she and Ivan were safely tucked into their apartment with their luggage. I was walking back to my car when the first text pinged. I glanced back over my shoulder to see Lily standing at her window, staring right at me with her phone in her hand. She was looking at me expectantly.

Lily: Are you going to see him again?

Kate: Yes, definitely.

I got into my car so she couldn’t see me, but continued texting her.

Lily: I’m happy for you. I hope he’s your great white buffalo.

Lily, Emma, and I all love the movie ‘Hot Tub Time Machine’, although for very different reasons. Emma likes movies about time travel. Lily likes anything about the eighties. I just have a very serious thing for John Cusack.

Lily: Have you sealed the deal yet?

Kate: Someone once told me that a lady never tells.

Lily: That means no.

Kate: We had our first date two days ago.

Lily: Are you in love with him?

Kate: I don’t know. We’re trying to take things slow. Promise you won’t tell anyone I’m seeing someone? I’m not ready for the world to know.

I drove home before she replied again. Part of me had expected her to go sleep off her jetlag, but I underestimated her curiosity. Her text popped up right before I ate my lunch. I reluctantly set down my veggie sandwich to see what the message was.

Lily: Of course. I’ll keep your secret. I’m happy for you. But be careful.

I knew Lily, I’d known her for years. She was the one who always told people to be careful. If humans had slogans, hers would be ‘be careful’. She was protective to a fault, but I also knew she wasn’t wrong. It was Lily who discouraged Emma from dating Ward (although I would have discouraged her from it too, if I’d known). Lily didn’t do it out of malice, though, she never did. She cautioned us because she didn’t want to see Emma—or me—get hurt.

Neither Lily nor Emma had been around during my freshman year to witness my descent into mopey madness over Cole. I’d had no real friends during that period at all, and it had been a very dark time in my life. Ward was busy with his blossoming football career, and Cole was right alongside him, winning every game. Meanwhile, I was skipping my classes, smoking and drinking too much, and making out with every loser that looked my way. Risky behavior became my escape, and I was damn lucky that nothing bad ever happened to me besides a tanked GPA and academic probation. I snapped out of my funk eventually, but I also had no desire to return to that side of myself.

I considered her warning to be careful and knew it was smart. I chewed on my sandwich, which suddenly had become tasteless, and texted her back the biggest lie I’d ever told her.

Kate: I’m being careful. You don’t need to worry about me. I know what I’m doing.