𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙋𝙊𝙑:
I couldn't shake it.

Running into Avery today had completely thrown me.

I'd spent four months trying to convince myself that avoiding her was the right move. That it was easier to let whatever happened that night stay in the past instead of dragging it into the present. But seeing her again? Hearing the frustration in her voice, the hurt behind her words?

Yeah. I'd been a complete dick.

I knew it then, and I knew it even more now as I sat in a bar with George and Arthur, nursing my third—or maybe fourth—drink of the night.

"You've been weird since we got here," George pointed out, sipping his pint. "What's up?"

"Nothing," I muttered, swirling the whiskey in my glass.

Arthur raised a brow. "Chris, mate, you look like someone's just told you football's been banned."

I huffed out a small laugh, but it wasn't exactly convincing.

George narrowed his eyes, studying me for a moment. "Wait a second..." He smirked. "This isn't about a girl, is it?"

Arthur's brows shot up. "Oh, it definitely is."

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. "It's not— It's just—" I ran a hand through my hair. "I ran into Avery today."

There was a beat of silence before George let out a low whistle. "No way."

Arthur blinked. "Avery as in wedding Avery?"

I nodded, rubbing a hand over my jaw.

"And how did that go?" George asked, grinning like he was far too entertained by this.

I scoffed. "She literally bumped into me, fell over, then told me off for ghosting her."

Arthur winced. "Oof."

George laughed. "Yeah, sounds about right." He took another sip of his drink. "And you just let her walk away?"

I shook my head. "No. I bought her a coffee, and we talked."

Arthur's brows lifted. "And?"

"And she still thinks I'm a dick."

George shrugged. "Well... to be fair, you did ghost her after the wedding."

I sighed. "I know."

Arthur tilted his head. "Why did you, anyway? I remember you were all over her that night. Thought you'd have been buzzing about it the next day."

I stared down at my drink, running my finger along the rim of the glass. "I don't know," I admitted. "I think I convinced myself that maybe she didn't care as much as I did."

George frowned. "And did she?"

I let out a breath. "She was pissed enough about it today, so... yeah. Maybe she did."

Arthur hummed, then smirked. "So, what's the plan?"

I furrowed my brows. "Plan?"

"You clearly still care," he said, shrugging. "So, are you just gonna leave it at that, or are you actually gonna do something about it?"

I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but nothing came out.

Because the truth?

I didn't want to leave it at that.

I'd spent four months avoiding Avery for no reason other than my own stupid pride. I'd missed my chance to do things right the first time but maybe I didn't have to miss it now.

I pulled out my phone.

George's eyes widened. "You're texting her now?"

Arthur grinned. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

I ignored them, already typing.

Me: I'm sorry. I'm actually a massive dick. Like, genuinely. Proper, full-on, massive dick. Not literally. Just... in general. Anyway. I should've texted. I don't have an excuse. I was just an idiot. But I swear it wasn't because I didn't care. I've always thought you were cool. Like, really fucking cool. Just never told you. Also... I was really pissed off when you moved away without warning. Just thought you should know that.

I stared at the screen, debating whether or not to actually send it.

Maybe I should wait. Maybe I should text her when I was sober. Maybe—

George leaned over, grabbed my phone, and pressed send.

My eyes widened. "Mate!"

George grinned, sliding my phone back to me. "Too late now."

Arthur laughed. "Oh, this is either gonna go really well... or really badly."

I groaned, running a hand over my face. "I hate both of you."

But as I glanced back at my phone, at the message now sitting in our chat, a small part of me hoped that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of fixing things