“You okay?” I ask.
Erica swallows slowly and presses her fingers to her mouth. After a beat, she nods. “Yeah. Sorry, I think I’m hungover from last night.”
“Another reason why I’m glad I didn’t go,” I say. I expect her to roll her eyes at me or make a jab about how I am so uncool these days, but a dark cloud rolls through the sky, and all the sunlight disappears.
“Yikes,” Erica says. “Apocalypse weather incoming.”
A juicy raindrop plops on my head, and I brace for a downpour, but nothing comes, the clouds lingering above.
Erica reaches into her tote bag, retrieving the digital camera she’s been carrying around all year. “Want to see pictures from last night?” she asks. “Make you feel like you were part of the chaos?”
“Oh my god, I thought you were done with that dinosaur.” She’d spent the whole year documenting little moments on the camera for the yearbook, swearing it captured morerealexperiences than our phones. Though I had to admit the yearbook looked amazing thanks to her.
“I’m good,” I say. “I can picture it—red plastic cups and keg stands! How exciting.”
Erica doesn’t laugh and her face pinches for a moment, like shemight be gearing up to tell me something. Right as I’m about to ask what’s up, the bell chimes on the front door of Scoop DeVille, and I turn to see the back of a tall girl about our age wearing a pretty lavender minidress and platform sandals. Her long blond hair is held in place by a thick gingham headband. A fly lands on her shoulder and when she turns to swat it away, I get a look at her face. My core tenses, and I drop my plastic spoon as the girl heads inside the shop.
“What the hell is Olivia doing here?” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down. I crane my neck to see her through the window, tasting different flavors and laughing with the kids behind the counter. She looks the same as she did when I saw her last, when she broke my heart.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you,” Erica says. “She’s back. Apparently, she’s staying in Billy’s pool house all summer while her parents are in…Switzerland? Maybe France? I’m surprised Ethan didn’t tell you he saw her at Billy’s last night.” Erica picks up both of our empty cups, tossing them in the trash.
“Ethan didn’t go to the party.”
Erica cocks her head. “Yes, he did.”
I peek at my phone and see another missed call from my mom, which I ignore, and head over to my text messages, pulling up Ethan’s thread. Maybe he mentioned the party last night after I’d gone to bed, and I missed it. But when I read our texts, I only see our standard back-and-forth. The good-morning messages exchanged at seven a.m. A question from him ninety minutes later:do you think mango is a morning fruit or an afternoon fruit?His reminder to wear sunscreen (50 spf, Luce!!!) at 10:45 a.m., and mymost recent question:What was that flavor I liked last time at Scoop DeVille?to which he responded,You thought the choc brownie crumble was way too sweet!! Get chocolate moose tracks.
But nothing about the party.
“Anyway, yeah.” Erica leans in. “Olivia was there, and she’ll be here all summer. Are you okay? Now you look like you’re the one who’s gonna puke.”
“I’m fine.” I push back my hair, smoothing the flyaways down over my scalp.
“Please don’t tell me you’re still hung up on her, Luce. That was like two years ago.”
I force a smile on my face and shake my head. “Of course not,” I say so forcefully, I almost believe it.
The door swings open, and Erica looks back at me. “Here she comes.”
I sit up straight and roll my shoulders back. The last time I saw Olivia was at our stepping-up ceremony, an end-of-year tradition at Pelican Island Academy that marks each class’s ascension to the next grade level. She wore a white lace dress and had tied her hair back with a long matching ribbon. I can still remember the breeze winding through her hair, the tail of the fabric floating in the sky, as I wondered if she would come over and say goodbye. She never did, and I spent the whole afternoon trying not to cry, wondering what it was about me that made Olivia not care.
Ethan told me Olivia was a fool for letting me go and promised me he would be by my side that summer. By the start of junior year, when he and I were officially a couple, I realized Olivia’s decisionhad actually been a blessing, even though her rejection made me feel like my chest was collapsing for two whole months.
Now I remind myself of all the things that have happened since then: I’ve been crowned valedictorianandprom queen of Pelican Island Academy, been named to the all-county tennis team, chaired the mock-trial team, landed a plum and totally impressive internship,andgotten accepted to my dream school. I’m Lucy Fucking Gold, and I refuse to let Olivia Godwin make me feel unworthy after all this time.
Olivia steps through the door, and Erica stands up, waving at her. “Hey, Liv. What’s—” But when Olivia faces us, Erica stops talking. Olivia’s dark brown eyes are wide, and she’s clutching her phone so hard, her knuckles are white.
She looks at Erica, then her gaze shifts to me, a flash of recognition crossing her face.
I want to say something—anything—to show her how wildlyoverher I am, how much I truly do not care that she’s in my presence. But before I can, Olivia flings her arms around my shoulders, nearly collapsing on top of me.
Erica mouths the wordswhat the fuck?in my direction. I shake my head and, in the process, get a whiff of Olivia’s hair, smelling notes of jasmine and linen.
“Is everything all right?” I ask. Though the answer is obviously no, because there’s no reason I can think of for my ex-girlfriend to literally throw herself at me.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes. At first, I assume it’s my mom again, but Erica’s dings at the same time. Olivia doesn’t let me go, and so I look to Erica as she glances at her screen, her eyes widening in shock. “Oh my god.”
“What?” I ask as Olivia’s grip gets tighter, her nose pressed against my chest.
