The air in the house was too thick, Indigo had to get out of there. She snuck off once Harrison stole the attention with one of his many kitchen mishaps. He was a sensational backer, but a lousy cook. Once away from the crowd of neighbors, siblings, and friends, she slipped out of her boots and let the cool grass massage her feet.

She sought refuge in her favorite place at Tate's house, the fire pit. The alabaster gravel pricked her bare soles as she dragged the match quickly across the brick and threw the spark onto the charred logs. The spark kissed the bark and ignited a flame that brightened the night. She slipped back in the Adirondack chair and let the fire hypnotize her with its dance.

Indigo's heart was doing this weird thing. It flooded her psyche with fond memories she tucked in the back of her mind. The most prominent thought that popped in her head was the first time she visited that very property.

******

Pungent ragweed blanketed the brisk spring breeze as she held down her sundress after the Marilyn Monroe moment she had after stepping foot out the car. She bit on her nail, looking away from Tate's eager eyes.

"I don't know." She stopped nibbling on her nail. "Don't you think this house is too big?" She threw her arm up, gesturing to the two-story brick house. "Four beds, four bath. Three-car garage." She rolled her eyes over to him. "I mean, that's a lot of rooms to fill."

"You'll help me." He nonchalantly shrugged, then gave her a pleading look. "Right." He bumped her shoulder with his. "Bestie,"

Indigo exaggerated the impact of his hit, leaning over more than needed. "I guess." She playfully rolled her eyes at him, then let a contented smile claim her face. "You know... if I'm about to waste hours at Bed Bath & Beyond and Pier 1 for you, then you have to do something for me."

"I'll wash your car for a month." Tate meandered over to the fire pit. "And..." He turned around, squinting as the sun leaked into his eyes, thinking hard on what else he could offer.

"And have dinner with me... and," Indigo scratched her scrunched nose trying to relieve the itch her allergies brought on. "Corey."

The blood drained from Tate's face as he stared at her.

"Please." She begged with a sniff.

Tate shook his head with his mouth agape.

"Come on!" She stomped her sandaled foot, crushing the grass. "Isn't it about time ya'll got over it?"

"No." He founded his voice but wasn't the word Indigo wanted. "I can't stand him and you just need to get over it and move on."

"Just get over it and move on." She repeated his words as she flung her hands up. "I want my best friend and boyfriend to get along. I don't understand why ya'll can't just get over it. I mean... yes—" She dropped her head, a smidge lowering her voice. "He broke the neck of your cello... but it was middle school." She slapped her sides, frustrated. "We're adults. Let's act like it?" She tugged at his arm. "With a dinner party."

Tate pouted at her doe-eyes, "I'll... try."

******

A familiar redolence hovered in the still night air interrupted Indigo's quiet time. She peeled her eyes open and took in the sight of the approaching form.

"Hiding?" Tate pulled his hands out his pockets as he stepped onto the gravel.

Indigo pushed up her eyebrows as she watched him slowly sit on the edge of the chair, "Not anymore."

The buzzing of cicadas, spontaneous cracks from the marigold blaze, and the distant bass of music from the house filled the silence between her and Tate. She kept her eyes trained on the vast night sky; counting the stars hung up high as he inspected the lines of his palm, tracing them with his finger. Their chest rose at the same pace, drawing in deep breaths to exhale it in a slow stream.

She rested her left hand on the chair's arm, and the twinkle of the diamond on her ring finger snatched his sight from his hand to settle on hers. The corner of his jaw jutted out as he ground his molars together.

He opened his mouth, moving his eyes up her arm to settle on her face, and then like a shooting star he placed his lips back together and looked back at the flickering flame.

Indigo closed her eyes tightly, "What?"

"What... what?" His eyes bugged out as he wore confusion on his face. "I said nothing."

"I can physically hear you thinking." She sighed loudly. "So... what is it?"

"Nothing." He kept his eyes locked on his hand, pressing the fleshy tips of his finger. "It's just that...why didn't you tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"That you were engaged."

"I don't know..." She shrugged, a little unnerved. "Maybe because ghosted me."

His features went melancholic. "I'm sorry.

"Fuck sorry." She tsked. "I don't need it anymore. I can't believe I actually missed you." She shook her head at herself, sliding her eyes down his form with disgust.

"You missed me?" He asked, and she rolled her shoulders back, hating that she admitted more than she wanted to.

She glared at him; long and hard without speaking.

"What?" He languidly threw up her arms. "Now, I can hear you thinking."

He smirked, and she rolled her eyes.

"You don't know me that well."

"You're a social butterfly that loves staying home. You're a shoe aficionado but take yours off any chance you get." His eyes went to the boots sitting next to her chair. "And you swear you love Now & Laters, but you only eat the green ones. I know you. Very well."

She humphed, refocusing on him. "If that's so; then you would've called me back or replied to the 'I don't know' eight texts I sent you before I took the hint. I don't know what bullshit you're on Tate..." She eyed him sharply. "But I don't have time for it. I'm busy. I still have to find wedding shoes and I don't have a minute to waste on fair-weather friends that breeze back in town with their perky new girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend." He quickly corrected. "We're just friends."

"I should've known." She chuckled with a little humor. "Because Tate Larsen doesn't have time for an actual relationship. He's a busy, famous writer."

His jaw dropped. Did she really just use his words against him? "I'm sorry. Extremely sorry.  Indie! What do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg."

"Try it." She smirked, folding her arms. "It might work."

He thought about bending a knee when he saw it, the fleck of playfulness glinting in her cognac eyes. "I missed you. I really did, but after..." He combed his hand through his hair, the blaze of the fire ignited the gold specks in each strand.

She wondered if he was thinking about that night they shared the same bed and the argument they had the morning after. 

"You know...I thought you needed time and so did I but I let it get away from me. I didn't mean to cut you out of my life." He scooted to the edge of the chair. "I love you, Indigo. Please, forgive me and let me make it right.  You're my best friend."

"Best friend?"

"Friend." He guessed. "At least friendly."

She sighed, pulling her hand from his hold, "Let the past stay in the past and all that jazz. I don't know if it'll be that easy." She shrugged. "But I'll—"

Her phone sung a familiar tune, Jagged Edge  "Let's Get Married".

He smirked, and she matched it without even placing her eyes on him.

"It's cheesy, I know." She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her jumpsuit.

"Huh, yeah." He gave her a nod.

She squinted at him then said. "I'm still mad at you but... let's catch up later, maybe."

"Maybe's good." His smile almost rivaled the flame.

"Don't do that." She shook her head at his smile, then stood up with the phone in hand. "Goodnight, Tate."

"Goodnight, Indie." He returned.

The weak tone of his heavy voice gave her an uneasy sensation like he was holding something back, but that was a Pandora's Box she didn't care to open. She flashed a closed-mouth smile at him and headed back to the house. He could let his non-girlfriend worry about the flecks of sadness in his gaze; that was no longer her job.

Do you think their friendship can get back on track?

Why do you think Tate told Indigo that Abigail isn't his girlfriend?

If Indigo had a specialization ring tone for Tate, what do you think it would be?