She starts to shrug off my jacket, but I catch her wrist. "Keep it. You're still shivering."
Our fingers brush, and in that instant, I catch the tiniest crack in her careful expression. Like maybe she's not as okay as she's pretending to be. But then she smiles, and whatever I imagined was there disappears.
"Don't stay out here too long," she says, as I watch her disappear back into the reception.
"If you don't stopreorganizing those sprinkles, I'm stealing your ice cream," Amelia threatens, pointing her spoon at me from across our corner booth at The Sugar Spot. She's rocking her usual thrifted-but-make-it-fashion look—a cropped vintage band tee, paired with jean shorts that showcase her new belly ring. "And don't think I missed you trying to dodge the wedding recap."
I abandon my assault on the mint chocolate chip, my stomach twisting with the story I'm about to sell. The same story I've been feeding myself all week, hoping that if I say it enough times, it might start to feel true. "There's nothing to dodge. Kristal ran it like a military operation in tulle. The chicken was dry. Caleb did the electric slide barefoot. The end."
"Bullshit," Vinnie coughs into her strawberry scoop, earning an approving smirk from Amelia. For someone who knows me less than a year, she's gotten terrifyingly good at calling me on my crap. Must be all that artist's intuition. Or it's just that she's dating the most observant man in Hallow's End.
"The chickenwasdry," I insist, focusing on my ice cream because looking at them would mean admitting too much—like the fact that I can't stop thinking about that kiss.
Daphne watches me over her butter pecan. She's different since coming home from Cresden. Softer edges, less pristine scrubs and perfect ponytails, more like the girl who used to split sundaes with me after failed math tests. "You know that's not what they're asking about."
My spoon scrapes ceramic. "Nothing happened with Caleb."
"Wait, nothing?" Vinnie's eyebrows shoot up. "Like, at all?"
"Nope." I keep my voice casual, ignoring the hot flush creeping up my neck. "Not even a moment."
"I was sure something would happen." Vinnie leans forward, hair falling into her grey eyes.
The girls exchange glances, and I focus on my ice cream instead. They'd never understand why I can't tell them. It's not just embarrassment. It's that telling them would make it athing. A crisis. A situation that needs fixing.
And I can't handle their well-meaning intervention. Amelia would immediately go into protective mode, ready to verbally eviscerate Caleb. Daphne would analyze it to death, trying to find some logical explanation that makes me feel better. Vinnie would give me sympathy, seeing right through my fake smiles.
I shrug. "We danced. We drank. He complained about Kristal's playlist lacking sufficient punk-rock. That's the whole story."
What I don't say is how deeply I've fallen into the shame spiral since that night. How I've spent hours replaying every touch, every look, every word, wondering how I got it all so wrong. If I can't even read the energy between me and my best friend, what the hell am I doing selling crystal kits and manifestation journals to tourists? It's not just about Caleb rejecting me. It's about my entireidentity crumbling.
And there's this other thing. This tiny, fragile hope I can't quite kill. That maybe he just panicked. That if I give him space, he'll figure it out. Telling my friends would mean watching that hope die in real time as they gently explain reality to me. I'm not ready for that kind of clarity yet.
"Honestly," Daphne says, twisting her delicate gold bracelet. "I honestly wasn't sure you'd all still be this close. Especially you and Caleb." Her ocean-blue eyes find mine. "After I left . . . I was sure I'd broken everything."
I reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You didn't break anything, Daph."
"Yeah, though I still stand by calling you both idiots. Mostly James," Amelia adds.
Daphne rolls her eyes. "Thanks for that stellar assessment."
"Have you talked to him at all since being back?" Vinnie asks.
"He's mastered the art of pretending I don't exist." She attempts a laugh that doesn't quite land. "So . . . no, not really."
"He's processing," I offer gently. "Six years is a long time to hold onto something, then suddenly have it standing in front of you."
"It's weird being back," Daphne continues. "Like everything's the same but I'm different."
I know exactly what she means. Because yeah, some things haven't changed. The Sugar Spot still serves the best mint chip in three counties, and Amelia still steals bites of everyone's dessert. But we're not the same girls who used to cram into this booth after football games, dreaming up futures that look nothing like the lives we're living now.
I stare at my melting ice cream, wondering why Caleb hasn't shown up at my place once since we got back. I figured I'd at least get ahow's Duckytext. Or a meme. Or anything.
Guess not.
"Anyway," Daphne says, her smile turning mischievous. "You and Ethan, huh?"
Vinnie blushes. "He's a good guy. Smart. Quiet. Weirdly into stargazing." She ducks her head, grinning. "He's just . . . perfect?"
