Basking

We sit opposite one another in Em's favourite pub/restaurant basking in the low, early evening sun, empty plates and constantly full glasses on the table in front of us. She smiles, pleased after all her nagging, that I ate a decent meal. Tears threaten once more as I realise how comfortable I am in her company, and that if I had merely spent time catching up with good friends, my summer would have been as good as I'd been hoping, with far less tears. She notices my chin trembling and gives my shin a kick under the table, "get a grip - we're in public," she says, feigning embarrassment. Her white teeth stretch into a smile so wide it overtakes all of her facial features, illuminating herself and everyone else in the room with its radiance.
"I've missed you," I utter, almost a whisper.
"I've missed you too!" she clutches my hands across the table, "don't leave it so long next time, missy."
I smile appreciatively at the fact that, however long we go without seeing one another, my oldest friend will always be there in my time of need; acting as though we were never apart.
"Buy me another drink?" I bat my eyelashes in the knowledge that she won't refuse - what's the point in having a nineteen-year-old best friend if she doesn't treat you every so often?
She walks over to the bar, credit card in hand, and I sit, trying to breathe without thinking about my other best friend - the one I've manipulated and punished nonchalantly. My phone lights up then with a text: her name flashes onto the screen.