“Seriously? She stole your sandwich! Claimed it as her own and took credit for the most delicious creation on planet Earth! It’s like an amateur artist claiming they’re the one who painted theMona Lisainstead of Leonardo da Vinci! It’s, it’s…” It doesn’t seem like he’s quite done, so I wait a moment.
“Cheese plagiarism!”
There it is.
“Okay, yes.” I pat his shoulder because he worked himself up pretty good. “Let it all out.” My emotions are all over the place—part of me secretly pleased that Gregory called her out on stealing something of mine to make herself look cool, while another part reminds me I don’t know those people, so why should I care? And I’ve totally destroyed the promise I made her regarding Myles, so. At this point she probably deserves the sandwich.
Gregory opens his mouth to say something, but I hold up a hand. “That’s not even what I’m talking about, though. What’s with the arm around me? The shirt comment? Now they think we’ve, like, messed around at my house!”
Gregory grins. “Haven’t we?”
“No!”
“There are lots of ways to define ‘messing around,’ ” he says, as if the combination of me and Gregory and the term “messing around” doesn’t fluster him like it does me. The image of us in my bed rises unbidden in my mind—hands in hair, breaths mingling,limbs entwined. “I dumped a pregnant stray cat in your garage, toured your room, and left a super sexy selfie on your wall, and then you cooked me the best meal of my life. I think it’s fair to call that ‘messing around.’ ”
I shake myself out of my hormonal state. “That’s not what they’re thinking right now, and you know it.”
“So let’s go do the other thing instead of visiting your mom.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Then they’ll be right.”
I choke on air. “You’re in rare form today, you know that?”
“I blame the festival.”
I would argue, but he’s right. People get a little wild at Summerfest. Two years ago Mr. Sweeney had about five too many Cape Codders and went streaking through the arts and craft tent. And last year Miss Davenport, the elderly librarian, played two Prince covers on her electric guitar during the open mic.
“Okay, look.” He rubs a palm over his head. “I don’t like what she did to you, okay? I don’t know Kat, like, at all, but I know that someone who could leave a friend like you behind without looking back isn’t someone I’ll ever understand. Or anyone I care to get to know.”
I let that land and slowly sink in. It’s an option to correct him and tell him all the times when Katwasa great friend to me. Explain that the last two months shouldn’t be the only measuring stick used for her, and I have years of material to prove she’s actually a good person and someone worth giving a second chance to. But it just feels so good for someone to see me and care enough about me to defend my honor. Or, my sandwich’s honor, but still.I wouldn’t have had the balls to call Kat out, and Gregory doing it on my behalf makes me a little emotional.
I also feel a little unworthy, because maybe someone should call me out too.
“Come on,” he says, pulling my attention back to him. “Let’s go get our faces painted like unicorns and eat our weight in ice cream.”
“Okay,” I say. “Then we have to go find Shelby.”
He nods with a little hum, loops his arm through mine, and tugs me through the crowd.
“So, how many hours do you spend each night staring at my selfie, anyway?”
25PLAYLIST:obviously
TWO DAYS LATER I’Mwalking along the beach to my lunch shift at Pearl’s when Kat FaceTimes me. I’m early as usual, so I pause near a couple of huge boulders and find a smooth section to sit on before I swipe to answer.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hi.” She’s in her dad’s apartment. It’s quiet, which is unusual. The few times we’ve done this throughout the summer, she’s been somewhere outside or with at least two other people. Her smile’s a little off too.
“Make it back okay?” I ask, even though it’s obvious she did. That day at Summerfest, we met back up a few hours after what I’m now calling the Grilled Cheese Incident to watch the volleyball tournament. Shelby was with me, and Ruby and Julian joined us too. Other Kingfisher High classmates continuedto cycle by when they heard Kat was back, but none of them stayed long.
While I’ll admit it was no hardship watching Gregory play volleyball—especially after he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it off to the side, because he’s objectively good-looking and has a nice body—he… How do I put it delicately? He sucked. Bad. Their team was out after two games. My dad was grumpy for three days, but Gregory was completely unbothered. He came right over and sat with us, breathing hard and smiling, ready to cheer on other teams for the rest of the tournament. Felicity tried flirting with him again, and he somehow ignored her while also being perfectly polite about it. It was impressive.
Kat and Felicity went back to Kat’s mom’s after that, and I didn’t see them again before they drove back to Pinecrest the next morning. It was nothing like the visit I’d expected at the beginning of the summer.
“Yeah,” Kat says. “Did you have fun?”
I nod, but say, “It was… different this year, for sure.”
“Yeah,” Kat agrees. “It was.”
