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"We can just have this party in the apartment. Save us travelling anywhere." Kirsty was scrolling down the pages of a website, looking for the perfect dress once again, as if she didn't already have enough. If shopping was an addiction, Kirsty needed rehab.
"I don't mind," Emi replied casually as she reorganised her desk, wishing Kirsty wouldn't put her shoes on the fresh bed sheets. "You choose what's best."
"It's your birthday, not mine," Kirsty tutted, wagging a finger at her. "So, are we having this banger of a party here or somewhere else?" She asked.
Emi sighed, sitting down into the desk chair. "I don't care."
Kirsty sucked in a breath and swung her feet onto the floor, sitting up as she looked at Emi. "That's the problem: You don't care. I'm starting to wonder whether you want this party at all," She snapped, losing her temper, which had always been short regardless.
Emi just smiled, toying with the loose thread on the back of the chair's pastel cushion. "That's just it," She said, "I don't want a party, you want a party."
"You think I'd be so selfish?" Kirsty mumbled, clearly hurt. "I see how it is," She said in the wake of silence from Emi, who just looked right at her as she stood from the bed, shoved her phone into her pocket and huffed before leaving the room.
Emi groaned, leaning her weight into the chair. Ruffling her hair, she wished she hadn't even told her long-term best friend why she didn't care about what decisions they made in preparation for her birthday celebrations.
In reality, all she wanted to do was go out for a nice, relaxed meal, drink some wine and eat a little too much. Parties were her thing, not Emi's. Sure, she would go to them, but it wasn't often that she was over the moon about going to one. In fact, the prospect of an entire party dedicated to her was her worst nightmare.
She was glad Kirsty knew now, but it was just unfortunate how it happened. Kirsty had a short fuse, yes, but she cooled quickly.
For now, she needed space to calm down. Then, and only then, would Emi attempt to approach and smooth things over with her. Even edge around the idea of spending a lovely night together in a bustling Italian, eating pasta, drinking wine.
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Emi held the mug of steaming coffee tight in her hands, sleeves pulled to her knuckles. With a light knock on the door, she pushed Kirsty's door open and entered.
When she walked in, the girl was alone. She sat at her desk, trying to look busy with a textbook and barely looked at Emi as she came in, sitting down on the corner of her bed. It was neat, for once, and her room pristine to match.
"I brought you coffee," Emi said, offering the coffee out in a peace offering of sorts.
Softly, Kirsty put her pen down and turned around. She took the coffee and mumbled a quiet thank you. Her hair was bundled atop her head, strands falling down into her face as she scowled down into the swirling coffee.
"I'm sorry I wasn't interested in the party planning," Emi apologised, sincerely, wrapping her hands together. "I don't think having a party for my birthday is really my thing."
"I know," Kirsty admit. "I just thought I was doing something nice for you."
"And you were," Emi reassured, putting a hand on her knee. "But I'd rather do something simpler."
"Like what?"
"Like... Go for a meal down in that Italian. You, me, Sarah, Lucy. It'll be a lot more relaxing for me than partying would be." Emi smiled at the thought of such an evening.
It would be wonderful just to sit back and relax, to let the world go on around them while they laughed the night away. Too often Emi found herself trapped in parties she didn't want to be at, feeling as if time was running away from her, slipping through her fingers like sand.
"Have you spoken to the others about it?" Kirsty asked after a moment of thought and deliberation. She set the coffee mug on the table, interested enough to look Emi in the eyes now as she pushed her glasses back up her nose.
"Not yet," Emi replied. "I wanted to ask you first."
Kirsty hummed a sign of approval. "If this is what you want, then we'll go for a meal instead. I'm sure it'll be delicious."
"Thank you so much, Kirst, I'm glad you understand," Emi said with a smile bursting across her mouth. "And, no, I don't think you're selfish at all."
She watched as Kirsty's face flooded with relief, flooding with colour and happiness as a smile slid across her expression. She was a lucky girl with a smile like that. It could change its meaning in an instant. Fake to genuine, cold to warm and friendly. Emi was glad she was receiving the warmest smile she thought Kirsty had ever held.
