“Right,” I say, sarcastically. “Because that always ends well.”
—
I’d planned for my exit to coincide with Mom and Zola’s gymrun, but as I jam the contents of our kitchen pantry into my crossbody, Mom joins us downstairs wearing a full face of makeup and her favorite jeans. I don’t know what (or who) was worth canceling on Zo for, but I make a mental note to text my sister later to find out if we’re mad about it.
Liv rushes Mom, shouting her standard “Miss Harper!” into their hug, and I’m glad her genuine excitement at seeing my mom overshadows my unease. Liv pulls back. “Wait. Miss? Ms.? You kept Harper last time, right?”
Mom laughs. “Girl, some days, I don’t even know. But you’re grown now. Just call me Angela.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Can you imagine guys having this conversation? Their names and identities legally bound to their relationship status.”
Liv’s and Mom’s matching eye rolls might as well be choreographed.
“She’s like one of those dolls,” Liv says, switching to her infomercial voice when she continues. “Just pull the string in back and she’ll spit out one of ten preprogrammed phrases damning the patriarchy.”
Mom slaps Liv’s arm and they have a quick laugh at my expense, until they feel the heat of my stare.
“You’re no fun.” Mom’s words are as juvenile as her eye roll.
But I’m unbothered—singing, “I never claimed to be,” while shoving a protein bar into my purse for the ride. It’s an easy drive, but Ro’s already seen me drunk. He doesn’t need to see me hangry.
I’m attempting to coax Liv toward the door, when Mom asks, “So what are you up to this summer, Livvie?”
Liv sidesteps me to take a seat at the kitchen island, raising a hand to her chest in feigned disbelief. “Does this mean Kaiahasn’t been complaining about me touring divey concert halls with myboyfriend? I’m shocked!”
She wants me to bite, but I can let one go by. I’m nobody’s windup doll.
Liv’s eyebrows lift gently in approval of my restraint before she turns back to my mom. “Unfortunately, that part of the summer is almost over. My dad lined up a bunch of interviews for me starting Monday. Deutsche Bank, J.P. Morgan, Morgan Stanley. So now I have to at least pretend to be serious.” She says it nonchalantly, as if she didn’t just name-drop Manhattan’s titans of wealth management. “And I’m still waiting to see if I made it to the next round at Goldman Sachs.”
At the same time Mom shrieks something like, “Okkkay, little Livvie,” I yell, “What the fuck?!” But when I see their faces, I wish I would’ve erred more on the side oflittleLivvie.
“Sorry,” I say, indiscriminately. “But—what? I had no idea.”
It’s not the first time since I got home that I’ve felt this distance between me and Liv. It’s not even the first time I’ve felt it today.
“Of course, you didn’t,” she says, and though she’s still smiling, Liv’s tone is more growl thanPOP!Apparently, it’s not her first time feeling the distance either.
It’s only the three of us here, but with the way they’re judging me, I might as well be naked onstage at Madison Square Garden, asking them to useonomatopoeiain a sentence.
“Okay,” I say, physically pulling Liv out of her chair now. “As soon as I get back, I promise we’ll do a lightning round Q&A on our five-year plans and set aside a night to sell band merch at whatever venue Travis has lined up next. But right now, I really do have someplace I need to be.”
“Go on then,” Mom says, standing to see us off at the door.“But Liv’s right. It’s time to get serious. Summer won’t last forever.”
“Promise?” I yell back, as if I’ll have somewhere better to be by fall.
But luckily, the closing garage door drowns out whatever Mom’s saying about me under her breath.
13
The sun glints off theglass lobby door as I pull into Ro’s lot, but its shine is nothing compared to his smile. He’s beaming.
It takes more effort than it should to walk to the entrance like a human and not like a human who knows she’s being watched. I try to focus onnotwondering how long Ro’s been at the door waiting for me like this. Until now, I’d never seen a man gogolden retrieverin real life, but the mental image it conjures—phantom tail wagging and all—lightens the weight of the anvil Liv’s words left lodged in my stomach.
Guys that look likethisdon’t have friends that look like you.
“I still need a few more minutes,” he says, holding the door wide for me.
With each step I take toward Ro, my nerves dissolve a little more. Like just sharing his air makes it easier to breathe. But I meant what I told Liv earlier—a casual hookup with an actual friend is just not a thing. Not a thingI’msigning up for, anyway.
