Free In Pursuit by Olivia Luck

of my conscious, because I think she unbuttoned the top of her shirt-dress, letting her lacy black bra peek out.
    “You’ve been there?” Harris’ disbelief is apparent.
    “I do some things without you, you know,” Claire says folding her arms across her chest.   
    The rest of the short drive is silent. No music haunts this car ride. Greg and I flicker smiles at each other across the back seat of the car.
    When we enter the restaurant, that does in fact remind me of an upscale shack, I realize why Harris doesn’t believe his sister has visited this place. The restaurant is two large rooms. One has picnic tables and an open kitchen, and the other has round and square tables scattered about. You order your food from the counter, collect a number, and then a waiter brings it over. We order our dinners and drinks (not without a fight; Harris demands to pay for everyone, much to Greg’s chagrin) then move into the second room for chairs with backs.
    We sit boy, girl, boy girl, forcing me in between Harris and Greg. Luckily, this allows me to angle my body toward the male I feel more at ease around.
    “Forgive me for dominating this conversation,” Greg says to the Grant siblings, “but I need to hog Eddie for a few minutes.”
    “What’s going on?” I ask him, leaning forward, remembering Sarah’s earlier unease.
    “Nothing, stop worrying. I just...” He trails off and gazes over my shoulder. For a few beats nothing is said.
    “Spit it out, Greg. I’ve never known you to pussyfoot,” I say and Claire giggles. Even Harris looks like he is fighting a smile at my word choice. “Sorry, that’s a weird word to use in the twenty first century.” 
    “Stop with the old school vocabulary. It dates you,” Greg says.
    “Go on.” I nudge his foot under the table. But when my toes brush against the leather, Harris' eyes dart up to mine. Shoot, that was most definitely not Greg’s foot.
    “I’m proposing to Sarah in a few weeks,” he bursts out.
    “What!” I push my chair back and jump over to my friend, throwing my arms around him.
    “You heard me,” he grumbles good-naturedly into my hug, but I can hear a beaming smile in his tone.
    “It only took you eight years to figure out she’s the love of your life. Not bad, Greggy.” I’m referring to the total time he’s known Sarah and me. Including the two years it took for him to work up the nerve to ask my best friend on a date.
    “Ha, ha. You won’t be laughing when you hear what I have to ask you next.”
    A gangly teenager arrives with our food, saving me from whatever is in store. A plate of pulled chicken arrives in front of me.
    “Does Sarah know you’re planning on asking her soon?” But this is my best friend Sarah that we’re talking about, the one who guesses the ends of movies three minutes in with her intuition. She must know that this is coming.
    “You know, as hard as I try, I can’t hide anything from her. But you are going to help me with one surprise for our wedding day.”
            I know what he is about to say before I hear the words.
    “I want you to sing.”
    “You sing?” Claire interjects, reminding me that she is at the table, too. When she leans toward Greg with wide eyes, it’s hard to miss the pouty lips curled into a slinky smile.
    “Full disclosure,” Greg says, turning to Harris and Claire, a beam of a smile highlighting his cheerful face. “This will emasculate me, but I’m going to say it anyway. Eddie pretty much sounds like an angel when she sings, and she plays the piano, too.”
    Dropping my fork with a clank, my hand shoots across the table and grabs Greg's wrist. “How have you heard me?”
    “Sarah may or may not have recorded you once. Your eyes were closed the whole time, you probably didn’t even realize she was there.”
    “What song?” I ask softly, but again I know the answer, because I did remember her recording it, even though that night mostly remains shrouded in a