Who, ME?!
I scowl as best I can with my face semi-paralyzed. “Ih nhot.”
Macy snorts, adjusting her camera angle so I can see she’s lying on her stomach, kicking her feet. “You sound possessed.”
I glare. “Now you’re the one being dramatic.”
We sit in companionable silence, falling into the same easy rhythm we always do—silent but still “together.” It’s one of my favorite things about our friendship. We don’t need to fill everysecond with words. Just existing in the same space, even virtually, is enough.
After a few minutes, Macy’s video goes black.
I frown. “Macy?”
Silence.
I narrow my eyes. “Knock it off.”
Still nothing.
I know the brat can hear me. She’s probably checking her messages or scrolling TikTok, completely zoning out. So annoying.
“What are you doing?” I demand. I hate that I’m being momentarily ignored.
“Relax a second—I’m checking something.”
Checking what?
I press my fingers against my skin, testing the moistness of my mask. Half of it is already mostly dry and nearly ready for the trash.
Macy laughs, her face back on my screen, animated and excited. “Okay—wehaveto go to the rink. Like, right now.”
“The rink? Like the hockey rink?” I blink. “What?Why?”
Her mouth drops open. “Because! The guys are practicing! I just saw Easton Westermann’s story—literally just now. Marcus will be there, and I want him to see me watching.”
I hesitate, glancing at myself in the mirror. “Macy, I currently look like a wet napkin. I have asheet maskon.”
She rolls her eyes. “Take it off, put on some mascara and a hoodie. We aregoing.”
My pulse quickens.
I’ve never gone to the ice rink to watch the guys practice like other girls at school do—I get secondhand embarrassment for those girls! It’s too obvious!
“I am not that girl. And neither are you!”
Macy snorts. “Oh please. Youwantto be that girl.”
I huff, peeling off my sheet mask and tossing it in the trash. “You are soah-noy-ing.”
Macy grins. “Yet here I am, the only one of us with a plan to get you a prom date.”
I freeze. “Mace. Stop. I thought this was about Marcus?”
Macy props her chin on her hand, her smile growing. “I mean, it ninety percent is. But also, Harper, Easton isliterallythe perfect option. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. He’s Marcus’s best friend, so we could go in the same group. Plus he’s hot, and single, and didn’t you just tell me last night he signed up to be on the decorating committee with you? Why would he do that, unless—news flash—helikesyou.”
Of course, I agree. Easton is hot, and single. But he doesn’t like me—not the way she thinks he does. And Macy also does not know that Easton wasforcedto be on the committee with me.
Nor does she know Easton has already agreed to ask me to prom on a technicality, i.e., extortion.
