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"You're actually driving me insane," Omar huffed into the phone.

"Hey!" snarled the voice of Stan, Edvin's apparent best friend, "You both asked for my help!"

"Jamie didn't ask you for help, she asked me. I thought it would be a good idea to at least gauge your opinion. And what the hell man, first you send Edvin off to this random place weeks before his birthday and now, you can't even think up a list of things that your childhood friend likes. It was a bad idea to call you as you're literally not helping in any bloody way."

"Firstly," grumbled Stan, "I didn't send him there. I might have suggested, or maybe imposed the idea on him, but I didn't send him. You're talking to me like I'm a fucking gang leader who shipped him off as an assassin on a hit job. And secondly, I'm helping!"

"Jamie can't hire an elephant for his birthday!" Omar snapped.

"You asked me what he likes!"

"And you thought 'elephants' would—"

"Boys!" I yelled, for what seemed like the hundredth time, "His birthday is literally tomorrow and I'm going out on a limb here. My friend Tracy has managed to lend me this really cool cabin for tomorrow and well, Edvin likes parties right?"

"Yeah, he does," said Omar.

"Very much so," added Stan.

"Good. Just making sure. He's met my friends, they're all down for helping out. We can all appreciate a good party. I don't want him to feel lousy on his birthday."

"That's fine and all but I don't get it," said Stan.

"Get what?"

"Why are you, a stranger that he's crashing with, care so much about his birthday?" asked Stan, sweetly. There was heavy implication in his voice.

And just when I thought Omar was going to back me up, the little traitor let out a laugh, "That's an excellent point Stanley! Why is dear Jamie working so hard to make our Edvin happy?"

I scowled but tried to sound nonchalant, "I just want to help out a bit. I obviously feel bad that you guys had so much planned for his birthday and due to universal circumstances, he's stuck here. Also I really like birthdays and parties and celebrating for no reason so can we please ditch this topic and move on?"

"You like him," stated Omar.

"Yes. Platonically," I huffed.

Stan laughed.

"What?!" I demanded.

"J, you've been raving about him this whole call," Omar said.

"J?" I questioned but was obviously overlooked.

"saying that he deserves a good birthday. You went out of the way to get my number—"

"I didn't go out of the way," I interrupted, "I just asked his mom."

But Omar ignored me as he continued, "And you asked his mom what kind of cake he likes so that you could bake it yourself. You might care a bit for a friend but in this case, you don't just care a bit, you care a lot."

"You can care a lot for a friend too!" I exclaimed, not believing the direction these two idiots took the conversation in.

"The lady hath protest too much," mocked Stan.

Omar let out a hearty laugh.

"Please play matchmaker with him when he's back home with you both, don't you dare try and mansplain how I feel for someone."

"We're not mansplaining!" Stan hooted.

"Guys," I sighed, "I literally don't have time for your bullshit. You like Edvin. He's your best friend. You want him to have a good birthday. Just tell me how I can help."

"He really likes Hawaiian pizza," said Stan, finally, "But pepperoni is his favourite."

"He absolutely hates mushrooms," added Omar, "and every other form of fungi."

"Noted," I said.

"He likes tinsel, party poppers with confetti and balloons but not the ones in the shape of numbers, just plain balloons," mentioned Stan, "Loves balloon animals as well."

"And his favourite colours are red and blue. Dark red and blue," clarified Omar, "He also likes fries, pancakes and candy, especially the sour kind—"

"And pretzels, donuts and oh, he really likes Indian food."

"Yeah and nachos, specifically with cheese. And he loves fried chicken and sushi but he won't eat the veg sushi cause it's not really sushi and it pisses him off, y'know cause it's veg?"

I laughed, "Got it. This is good, and alcohol?"

"He'll drink anything but he harbours a fondness for vodka," answered Stan.

"Okay, yeah. Vodka. I'll get some other stuff too."

"Hates mixed fruit juice but absolutely loves grape and apple," added Stan.

"That's enough I think, how much can you possibly arrange for a party?" chuckled Omar.

I grinned, "I'm certainly not arranging everything that yall just mentioned but I definitely know what to get now."

"So, you're sorted?" asked Stan.

I hummed, "Yeah. Also, does he hate surprises?"

"Not really, no. He's neutral on them," assured Omar.

"We should give him a welcome home party when he's back," suggested Stan to Omar.

Omar seemed happy with the idea, "We definitely should! It's just 10 days!"

Then the two went on the discuss his homecoming plans.

And just like that, I was reminded of the sudden reality that he won't be here in ten days.

The thought hit me like a slap on the face.

And the feeling that came after, didn't exactly put me over the moon.

꧁❆꧂

Edvin had lost.

It was as simple as that.

"I clearly won!" he exclaimed with a laugh as I wiped off the counter at Sal's.

"You most certainly did not, I made it way harder for you. We were in a relationship and I was pregnant with your brother's child."

"And I didn't care about it because I was a raging homosexual!" he countered.

There was a woman sitting in one of the chairs, did I mention that?

Calmly enjoying her apple pie.

She looked up at us.

And if looks could scream 'what the fuck', this probably would've been it.

She then started eating her pie faster.

Edvin bit back a laugh and whispered, "Let's never talk about this in public again."

I grinned, "Agreed. Back to the point, I won."

"No, I won. Shall we call Dr. Lamaze and ask?"

"Please. After all we've put her through, she'll have a heart attack if she finds out it was fake."

He laughed loudly as the woman picked up her bags and rushed out of the cafe. I shook my head with a smile and went to wash my hands, "People like us end up in hell."

"You're done here, right?" he asked, suddenly.

"Yeah, I just have to close up," I answered, wiping my hands and re-tying my hair.

"Great. I ate at this pizza place last week and it was by far, the best meal I've had here. I'll buy you lunch."

I smirked, "Does this mean, I win?"

He scoffed mockingly, "No. Get over yourself. I'm not going to let a girl pay."

I swatted him with a cloth, "What are we living in, the 1800's? I, just like most women in the world, can pay for my own food."

"My parents raised me to be a gentleman!"

"And mine raised me to be independent!" I shot back.

He huffed and then looked at me.

I frowned.

And then, because we were us, we broke out into laughter.

"We need to settle this. Quick," he said, decisively.

"Heads or tails?" I asked him, taking out a coin from my pocket.

He scowled at it, "I'm not falling for this shit again."

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