PROLOGUE
VALERIA
Two years ago
Being here should feel nostalgic, comforting, and easy, but it doesn’t.
Valeria and her four best friends have spent the past weekend in a secluded cabin, checking off a long-forgotten item from a bucket list they made as teenagers. However, since they arrived yesterday, she and Brooke—her girlfriend of more than four years—have been bickering nonstop.
By the time evening on their last day rolls around, Valeria isn’t looking forward to sitting by the bonfire and hanging out with her friends; instead, she’s counting down the hours until she can fall asleep, wake up, and leave—hoping she and Brooke can drive home and pretend this entire weekend never happened. Which sucks, because Valeria had been looking forward to this weekend with the girls. It’s been years since the five of them have beentogether like this.
The moment the movie they’ve been watching ends, Isabella rises from the couch and stretches, her unruly curly hair springing in every direction as she says, “I’m going to bed. The hot springs wore me out.”
From the kitchen, Alejandra calls, “Already?” with the faintest edge of disappointment in her voice.
“Yeah, I’m exhausted,” Isabella replies, adding a yawn so dramatically fake that Valeria can’t help narrowing her eyes at her.
“Me too,” Lily says quickly, nervously tucking a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear, her voice far too bright and eager for someone claiming to be tired.
Valeria shifts her gaze to Alejandra and Clara, widening her eyes in a silent plea to bookmark this moment for them to discuss later.
Lately, Isabella and Lily have been acting strangely around each other. Not in a bad way, but in a way Valeria can’t quite decode. They lean in a little closer than before, exchanging smiles over things only they understand, and look at each other as if the rest of them aren’t there.
It reminds Valeria of when Isabella and Lily were close, before the mysterious argument that has hung over them for the last decade and, in turn, cast its shadow across the whole group.
The five of them had been inseparable since middle school, but sometime during their senior year of high school, Lily and Isabella had a falling out, and their once-inseparable group split a little. Lily and Isabella each stayed close to the rest of the group but stopped talking to each other entirely, despite the rest ofthem trying to figure out what had happened.
While Valeria is trying to piece together what could be going on between them, Alejandra is completely failing at playing it nonchalant, her eyes as wide as her smile, leaving all three struggling to contain their laughter. Valeria presses her lips together, careful to hide her excitement from Brooke, who looks profoundly uninterested—practically carved from boredom. Valeria forces herself to rein in her curiosity, not wanting to set off another argument with her girlfriend.
Brooke’s ex cheated on her with her best friend. As if being betrayed hadn’t been bad enough, Brooke walked in on them right in the middle of a ... heated moment. Since then, anything that smells even faintly of friends teetering into more puts her on edge. This thing between Isabella and Lily has her extra tense, especially with how badly Alejandra and Clara want them together.
As soon as Isabella and Lily disappear down the hall and out of earshot, Valeria and Clara hurry into the kitchen with Alejandra. Speculation sparks immediately as Clara mixes fresh drinks.
“They are one million percent hooking up,” Alejandra declares.
“No way.” Valeria shakes her head. Not because she doesn’t believe it, but because it seems like so much more than that.
“Val, you didn’t see them at the lake last week. They were eye-fucking each other,” Clara replies, handing her a vodka cranberry.
Alejandra nods so aggressivelythat the ice in her glass rattles.
“I hope so!” Valeria blurts out, excitement slipping through. She can’t remember the last time either of her friends looked this happy. Even though they’re trying to hide it, their attraction toward each other is obvious.
Brooke scoffs from behind them. Clara and Alejandra roll their eyes and choose to ignore her, but Valeria cringes, and her shoulders tense. She hadn’t realized Brooke had walked into the kitchen.
“Fuck,” Valeria cusses under her breath. She should have known where Brooke was, should have heard her walk in, or at least kept her mouth shut. She knows how much Brooke hates that she’s rooting for them, too.
“I should—” Valeria points over her shoulder.
Clara and Alejandra give her a reluctant nod before Valeria turns to follow Brooke back to the couch, trying to prepare herself for the argument she knows is coming.
Brooke plops onto the couch, and Valeria stands between her legs, combing her fingers gently through her hair, brushing it away from her face. The living room is dim, lit only by the amber glow of the stone fireplace across the room and the flicker of the TV, but Valeria can easily see the tension in Brooke’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” Valeria whispers, kneeling in front of her to press a soft kiss to her cheek in a fragile attempt to soothe her.
“Don’t.” Brooke leans back.
The rejection lands square in Valeria’s chest. Heat creeps up her neck, and her whole chest tightens in response. Her breath hitches, a sharp intake of air that does little to ease the pressure.
