"Pikachu, Charizard, and . . ." She taps her chin thoughtfully. "Oh, that blue turtle you were obsessed with freshman year. Before Stuart Thompson told everyone Pokémon cards were for fifth graders and you suddenly became 'too cool' for your collection."
"Squirtle," I correct automatically. "And those cards were vintage."
"My favorite was always Jigglypuff."
"Because it was pink?"
"Because it was the only card you ever gave me." She smiles at the memory. "Your very heartfelt apology for dropping your gum in my hair during the spring assembly. Pretty sure that card's still in my old diary somewhere."
"That was a collector's item, you know."
She snorts, but then looks away from me. "Virginia seems like more of a Candy Crush girl, anyway."
"Exactly. Deal breaker." I tug on a strand of her hair, letting it curl around my finger. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Nothing." She leans into my side. "Just tired. And wondering how I got roped into being a bridesmaid at the wedding of the century."
"You could still say no."
Her head drops to my shoulder, blue hair fanning over my arm. "I would feel bad, plus, I want to do it. I like Sarah."
"It's not too late to run," I offer. "I know all the back roads."
"Only if there's snacks in the getaway car." She smiles, and for a heartbeat I forget about all the other bullshit. "And you're driving. I've seen what happens when you try to give directions."
"That was one wrong turn."
"We ended up in another state!"
"It was an adventure."
She laughs into my shoulder, the vibration shooting straight through me. "Is that what we're calling your complete inability to read a map?"
"Google Maps was having an existential crisis."
"Of course." She pushes up from the grass, the sundress inching dangerously high up her thigh. My eyes track the path of bare skin, following the curve until I drag my gaze up to find her staring somewhere past my shoulder. "I should head back." Her fingers smooth down the fabric. "And I'm pretty sure Virginia will hunt you down now that lunch is over."
I should say something. Tell her Virginia could do a striptease on this dock and I wouldn't give a shit. But my tongue's taken a vacation to fuck-up town, and all I can do is track Ivy disappearing down that fancy-ass path, while I sit here like the world's biggest idiot.
"And the entire yachtclub had to be evacuated," Virginia giggles under her breath. She's perched on the arm of my chair, all tanned legs, and designer perfume that's giving me a headache.
"Fascinating," I mutter. But I'm not listening because across the room, Carter's telling some story about his trip to Greece, and Ivy's laughing. He's leaning closer than necessary, all smooth confidence in his tailored shirt, and a hot knot forms low in my stomach.
"God, that soundssobeautiful," Ivy says, and I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or not. But Carter grins like he won the lottery, and I force myself to focus on Virginia's yacht story.
"That must have been terrible," I cut in, flashing her my best charming smile. "All those trust funds floating away."
"You're awful," she giggles, touching my arm. "I love it."
From the corner of my eye, I catch Ivy glancing over. Carter's saying something that makes her smile again, but it doesn't quite reach hereyes this time.
"You know what's really awful?" I lean closer to Virginia, pitching my voice loud enough to carry. "This one time, at the pizza shop . . ."
The story's not even that funny—some drunk college kids trying to pay in Monopoly money—but Virginia loses it, falling into my lap with theatrical grace. I catch her out of reflex, my hand landing on the bare skin of her thigh.
Across the room, Ivy stands abruptly. "I should call Amelia and Vinnie."
"Want me to find you later?" Carter offers, and a band seems to cinch tight across my ribs.
