I’m deeply regretting adding whipped cream and maple syrup to my hangover, when Mom walks in from the garage.
“She lives,” Mom says, shopping bags dangling from her wrists. At least one of us woke up ready to carpe diem this fine Sunday. “Does sleeping till noon mean you actually had fun last night?”
“You guys are the ones who wanted me to be more social,” I say, pushing my plate away in surrender. “I’m just following orders.”
“And exactly which part of ourorderswere you following when you slipped into this,” Mom says, holding Ro’s hoodie in the air like a smoking gun.
Zola’s eyes go wide. “And you mademeseem like the one keeping secrets! I thought you said the date was a bust.”
“Relax,” I say, yanking the sweatshirt from Zola, mid-sniff. “It’s Ro’s. He picked me up after your guy showed his ass.”
“Hellooo, plot twist,” Zola sings, salivating. “No wonder you didn’t want me calling him.”
Mom, on the other hand, looks like she’s mentally solving for pi. “Wait, this is the tow truck driver, right?”
“Yes!” Zola answers for me. “Kaia’s knight in overpriced streetwear.”
“He picks up cars off the side of the road for a living.” After seeing Ro’s site, I’m not sure this is technically true, but I’ve gone too far to double back. So I double down instead. “Knightly rescues don’t usually come with an invoice.”
“Well, was he working last night when he saved you from the big bad wolf?” Zola says with that same damn smirk.
“We’re friends.”
“So that’s a no,” Zola says, taking the final word.
She can have it.
My stomach is protesting, my head is pounding, and frankly I don’t have the energy to go another round with these two.
By the time Mom calls out, “Don’t leave! We’re just having fun,” I’m already gone.
12
I expected to have to fightharder to push the next date back a week, but when I tell Zola about Ro’s show, she can’t really argue. Ro’s not only helping with her site, he’s cutting his design rates by more than half so Zo can afford him. Sparing me for a night is the actual least she could do for him in return.
“I can’t believe you’re going out of town with a guy you hardly even know,” Liv says that Saturday from my bed.
“We’re driving an hour away,” I remind her. Still disappointed that her beingheremeans she won’t bethere.“It’s not like we’re flying to Bali.”
I’d been so ready for a night with Liv in the city—my excitement had almost been enough for me to forgive her for ignoring myChris HansenSOS. But when I told her that Ro and I would be by her place later, she informed me thatshewas already on her way out. Because of course she was. We’ve been out of sync all summer.
“Still,” she says, texting more than talking. I don’t ask who with. Or who she came to Connecticut for today. If her Instagram stories are any indication, Liv’s entire summer has been spent following Travis from gig to gig. “Quite a leap to go fromcomplaining about driving twenty minutes to meet a guy for dinner.”
“In my defense, I tried to cancel this, too, when I realized you were heading home. I didn’t know I needed to book time with you weeks in advance.”
“Nuh-uh,” she says, holding a finger up to stop me. “Don’t put this on me. You made this plan all by yourself. You want to go. And you’re allowed to wanna go!”
“Well, I can’t say I’m mad he got me out of going on another date. He could’ve sent an itinerary for a night in Poughkeepsie, and I would’ve been immediately down.”
“I bet you would’ve.” Her singsong tone is heavy on an implication that I willfully ignore. “But for the record,” Liv says, rolling over on the mattress to make eye contact. “I wouldn’t be so sure you’re not going on a date. When a guy invites you to—”
“Guys can’t have friends?”
“Don’t be that girl. Of course, guys can have friends,” she says, turning her phone to reveal the archives of Ro’s Instagram grid. If she accidentally likes something, I’m fleeing to Canada. “But guys that look likethisdon’t have friends that look like you.”
“Ro’s the only person I talk to out here who doesn’t remember what I looked like in braces. And with you otherwise occupied in the city, I’m in no position to pass up new friends.”
“With benefits,” Liv suggests, matter-of-factly. Like it’s a given.
